Page 134 of Untying the Knot
“Tell me what happened.”
I explain the class to her, how we both didn’t know what to expect, but when the moment came down to it, I thought that maybe it would be nice to see what he had to say about me.
“This is Ryot, Myla. Of course he’s going to say sweet things. He always has. What did you think he was going to say? That you’re a rotten bitch, and he hopes you burn in flames?”
“No, I just . . . ugh, I don’t know. What he appreciated about me was really sweet, but it was his confession that destroyed me, and the way he held on to me, like if he loosened his grip even a little, that I might float away.” I let out a sigh and press my hand to my forehead. “Remind me why I asked for a divorce.”
“Hey, I was never a super supporter of the idea, but if you need to know, it was because after he retired from baseball, you were supposed to spend your life together, accomplishing goals together, and having a life post sports. Then he started a business, ignored everything you said, moved you to California, and made your life miserable—even after you tried talking to him multiple times and he ignored you. One-track mind really kind of blew up your marriage.”
“Wow, thanks, Nichole.”
“You asked. Is there any way you could see yourself changing your mind?”
“I mean, possibly, but that doesn’t change the fact that we’re in a place in our lives where we want different things. He’s so attached to The Jock Report and everything it represents that I couldn’t imagine him ever giving it up. And I don’t want to be in California. I don’t want to be away from you.”
“I’m not the reason you are breaking up your marriage. Stop bringing me into it.”
“I’m not using you as an excuse, Nichole.”
“You better not be, because who knows what’s going to happen to me and where I will be a year or five from now? You need to want to move back to Chicago because that’s where you want to be, not because of me.”
“I do believe it’s where I want to be.”
“Why?” Nichole asks. “If I was out of the picture, why do you want to be in Chicago?”
“Because . . .” I say softly. It’s where I had a purpose. I had a job, a role in Ryot’s life that I loved. Dates were difficult because of his popularity in Chicago, but not impossible. He made time for me. Our downtime was spent relaxing, watching movies, catching up with friends, and having fun. We talked. We argued. We made up. He heard me. It’s where I felt seen by Ryot. “Because it’s where I have my best memories. It’s the one and only place I’ve ever truly felt like I was home.”
“Do you know why?” Nichole asks. “Because you were with Ryot out here. You have your best memories in Chicago because of Ryot. Not because of me, not because of your job, and not because you love the weather—which remember, you hate. You have the best memories here because of Ryot. So do you think you would still like it here if Ryot wasn’t with you?”
I ponder on that for a second as I stare at the carpet. “I . . . I don’t know.”
Just then, Ryot pokes his head out of the hotel room and glances down the hallway.
“Oh, I think I have to go. He’s looking for me.”
“Okay, well, think about what I said, okay? And whatever happens, just keep pushing yourself to understand more, to put all the pieces together, because if I know one thing for certain, it’s that Ryot Bisley might have lost your trust and broken your heart, but he very much could be the only one who could put it back together. Love you, girl.”
“Love you,” I say as I hang up the phone. I stand from the carpet and head toward the door.
“Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just wanted to give you a twenty-minute warning. I can head down, though, if you want, tell everyone you have a headache or something.”
God, he’s annoyingly sweet . . . and handsome. So freaking handsome. He’s wearing a pair of gray Chino pants and a light blue shirt along with the watch I got him two Christmases ago, and his hair is still dewy from his shower but styled in that cute messy way that he always has. And oh my God, does he smell like a dream.
“No, you don’t need to fake anything for me. I’m starving, and I could use some wine after today.”
“Same.” He rocks back on his heels. “So you want me to wait?” God, this is awkward, no thanks to the events in the pool from earlier.
“Yeah, just give me a second to change, and I’ll be right out.”
I move toward the closet where I hung up my clothes and choose a black peekaboo back, strapless romper that I know will pair well with my black heels. I wasn’t sure what the events were for this wedding week, so I chose outfits I could dress up or dress down. Based on what Ryot is wearing, I’m going to assume this is a dressing-up dinner.
I slip into my romper, tie it tightly behind my back, and then check myself in the mirror. Looks pretty decent. I’ve gained a few pounds since I last wore this, so I wasn’t sure if it would work or not, but it seems fine. I brush my hair out and slick it down into a low, tight bun at the nape of my neck, put on my gold Marin Knot earrings, and then do a five-minute face of makeup. My focus is on evening out my complexion and then tons of mascara to make my eyes pop.
I look in the mirror and smile. Not too bad for a few minutes to get ready. I slip on my strappy black heels, and I’m about to head out into the bedroom where Ryot is waiting when I consider Nichole’s question. Is she right? Did I only love Chicago because of being with Ryot? Because if that’s the case, then it would suggest that I’m happiest when I’m with him. Wherever we are, as long as it’s together.But I hate California.Do I? Or do I simply hate what it represents? Now isn’t the time to dive into this, but her question was a valid one, and something I need to give more consideration. I hated feeling unheard, invalidated, and irrelevant. Ryot’s choices were selfish.But am I wanting to flee the man I love or flee the feelings of inadequacy and unworthiness that his decisions triggered?
I take a deep breath and head toward Ryot, who is sitting on the edge of the bed.
When he looks up, I watch his expression morph from neutral to appreciative while his eyes roam up my body.
