I open the door and walk into the living room.
I pause.
Turn around, Sydney. Turn around and go back to your room.
Ridge is standing at the bar. However, it isn’t the sight of Ridge that’s rendered me completely immobile. It’s the girl he has his arms around. It’s the girl he’s pressed against. It’s the girl he’s looking directly at, as if she’s the only thing that has, does, and will ever matter to him. It’s the girl who planted herself between me and my maybe someday.
Warren exits his bedroom and sees them standing together in the kitchen. “Hey, Maggie. I thought you weren’t coming for a couple more weeks.”
Maggie spins around at the sound of Warren’s voice. Ridge’s eyes move from Maggie over to me. His body tenses, and he stands up straighter, putting a slight distance between the two of them.
I’m still immobile, or I’d be putting distance between myself and all three of them.
“I’m about to leave,” Maggie says, and signs simultaneously, facing Warren. Ridge steps away from her, then quickly breaks his gaze from mine and refocuses his attention on Maggie. “My grandfather was admitted to the hospital yesterday. I got here last night.” She turns and gives Ridge a light peck on the lips, then heads for the front door. “It’s nothing serious, but I’m staying with him until they release him tomorrow.”
“Oh, man. Sorry about that,” Warren says. “But you’ll be here the weekend of my party, right?”
Party?
Maggie nods and takes a step back toward Ridge. She circles her arms around his neck, and he wraps his arms around her waist—two simple movements that completely shatter entire sections of my heart.
He rests his mouth against hers and closes his eyes. He brings his hands to her face, then pulls back and leans in again to kiss her on the tip of her nose.
Ouch.
Maggie exits the apartment without ever having noticed that I was standing here. Ridge closes the door behind her, turns around, and brings his eyes back to mine with an unreadable expression.
“What are we doing today?” Warren asks, moving his head back and forth between Ridge and me. Neither of us breaks our stare to respond to him. After several seconds, Ridge makes the slightest movement with his eyes, motioning toward his bedroom. He turns to Warren and signs something, and I walk back to my room.
It’s amazing how many reminders I’ve had to give my organs in the last three minutes that should be basic, common knowledge.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Contract, expand.
Beat, beat, pause. Beat, beat, pause.
Inhale, exhale.
I walk to the bathroom and head for Ridge’s bedroom. It was obvious he wants to talk, and I still think confronting it now is better than waiting. It’s definitely better than not confronting it at all.
The journey across the bathroom is only a few feet and should take no longer than a few seconds, but I somehow stretch it out for five whole minutes. I place a nervous hand on his doorknob, then open it and walk into his room.
He’s walking in at the same time as I’m closing the door to the bathroom. We pause and stare at each other. These staredowns are going to have to end, because my heart can’t take much more.
We both walk to his bed, but I pause before sitting down. I assume we’re about to do some serious talking, so I hold up my finger and turn to get my laptop out of my room.
He’s sitting on his bed with his laptop when I return, so I sit, lean against the headboard, and open mine. He hasn’t messaged me yet, so I type something to him first.
Me: Are you okay?