Chapter Twenty Two
Sydney
My cable won’t be connected until next week.
My eyes hurt from reading too much, and maybe
also from crying. I finally put a down payment on
a car with my leftover student loans, but until I
get a job, I can’t really afford the gas. I’d better
find a job soon, because I’m pretty sure I’ve fic-
tionalized how great living alone is. I’m tempted
to try to get my job back at the library, even if I
have to beg. I just need something to keep me
busy.
I’m. Freaking. Bored.
So bored that I’m looking at my hands, count-
ing random things that make absolutely no sense
to even be counting.
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One: the number of people constantly on my
mind. (Ridge . )
Two: the number of people I wish would con-
tract a sexually transmitted disease. (Hunter and
Tori.)
Three: the number of months since I broke up
with my lying, cheating bastard of a boyfriend.
Four: the number of times Warren has checked
up on me since I moved out of the apartment.
Five: the number of times Warren has knocked
on my door in the last thirty seconds.
Six: the number of days since I last saw Ridge.
Seven: the number of feet from my couch to
the front door.
I open the door, and Warren doesn’t even wait
for me to invite him in. He smiles and slips past
me, holding two white bags in his hands.
“I brought tacos,” he says. “I was driving by
on my way home from work and thought you
might want some.” He sets the bags on my kit-
chen counter, then walks to the sofa and plops
down.
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I close the door and face him. “Thanks for the
tacos, but how do I know you aren’t pranking
me? What’d you do, switch the beef out with
tobacco?”
Warren looks up at me and grins, impressed.
“Now, that’s a genius prank idea, Sydney. I think
you might finally be getting the hang of it.”
I laugh and take a seat next to him. “Figures,
now that I have no roommates to prank.”
He laughs and pats my knee. “Bridgette
doesn’t get off work until midnight. Want to go
catch a movie?”
My head sinks into the back of the couch al-
most as quickly as my heart sinks into my stom-
ach. I hate feeling as if he’s only here because he
feels sorry for me. The last thing I want to be is
someone’s worry.
“Warren, you don’t have to keep coming by
here to check on me every day. I know you’re
trying to be nice, but I’m fine.” He shifts his
weight on the couch so that he’s facing me.
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“I’m not coming by here because I feel sorry
for you, Sydney. You’re my friend. I miss having
you around the apartment. And I might be coming by here because I feel a tad bit remorseful for
treating you like complete shit the night Maggie
was admitted to the hospital.”
I nod. “Yeah. You were quite the a*shole that
night.”
“I know.” He laughs. “Don’t worry, Ridge
hasn’t let me forget it.”
Ridge.
God, even hearing his name hurts.
Warren realizes his slip-up when he sees the
change in my expression. “Shit. Sorry.”
I press my palms into the couch and stand up,
wanting to escape the awkwardness of our con-
versation. It’s really not a subject I need to be
talking about, anyway.
“Well, are you hungry?” I ask as I head to the
kitchen. “I just spent hours slaving over the stove
to make these tacos, so you’d better eat one.”
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Warren laughs, walks into the kitchen with me,
and takes one of the tacos. I unwrap one and lean
against the bar, but before I even bring it to my
mouth, I become too nauseated to eat. In all hon-
esty, I haven’t slept or eaten very much in the six
days since I moved out. I hate knowing that I had
a part in causing so much hurt in another person.
Maggie didn’t do anything to deserve how we
made her feel. It’s also hard as hell not knowing
how things have turned out between the two of
them. I haven’t asked Warren about it for obvi-
ous reasons, because whatever the outcome, it
wouldn’t change things. But now it feels as if I
have this huge, gaping hole in my chest from the
constant curiosity. As much as I’ve wished for
the last three months that Ridge didn’t have a
girlfriend, it’s nothing compared to how much
I’ve hoped she could forgive him.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
I glance up at Warren, who’s leaning against
the counter, watching me think. I shrug my
shoulders and set my uneaten food aside, then
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hug myself and stare down at my feet, afraid that
if I look directly at him, he’ll know what I’m
thinking.
“Look,” he says, dipping his head to try to get
me to look him in the eye. “I know you haven’t
asked about him because you know as well as I
do how much you need to move on. But if you
have questions, I’ll answer them, Sydney. I’ll an-
swer them because you’re my friend, and that’s
what friends do.”
My chest rises with my deep intake of breath,
and before I can fully release it, the question
spills from my mouth. “How is he?”
Warren clenches his jaw, which makes me
think he wishes he hadn’t given me the opening
to ask about Ridge. “He’s okay. He’ll be okay.”
I nod but instantly have a million follow-up
questions to ask.
Did she take him back?
Has he asked about me?
Does he seem happy?
Do you think he regrets me now?
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I decide to take it one question at a time, be-
cause I’m not even sure his answers will be good
for me at this point. I swallow nervously, then
look up at him. “Did she forgive him?”
Warren is the one who can’t hold the eye con-
tact now. He straightens up, turns around with his
back to me, and places his palms flat on the
counter. His head hangs between his shoulders as
he sighs uncomfortably.
“I’m not sure if I should be telling you this.”
He pauses for a moment, then turns back around
to face me. “She did forgive him. From what he
told me, she understood the situation between
you and Ridge. I’m not saying she wasn’t upset
about it at all, but she did forgive him.”
His answer completely slays me. I slap my
hand over my mouth to muffle my cry, and then I
turn away from Warren. I’m confused by my re-
action and confused by my heart. I’m immedi-
ately consumed with relief to know that she for-
gave him, but the relief washes away with grief at
the realization that she forgave him. I don’t even
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know how to feel. I’m relieved for Ridge and
grieving for myself.
Warren sighs heavily, and I feel awful for al-
lowing him to see me react this way. I shouldn’t
have asked. Dammit, why did I ask?
“I wasn’t finished, Sydney,” he says quietly.
I shake my head and keep facing the opposite
direction while he gets out the rest of what he
wants to say.
“She forgave him for what happened with you,
but what happened with you was also an eye
opener about why they were even together in the
first place. It turns out she couldn’t find a good
enough reason to take him back. Ridge said she’s
got a lot of life left to live, but she can’t live it to the fullest when he’s constantly trying to hold her
back.”
I bring both hands to my face, completely per-
plexed by my heart now. Just seconds ago, I was
grieving because she forgave him, and now I’m
grieving because she didn’t.
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Just three months ago, I was sitting outside on
my suitcases in the rain, believing I was experi-
encing what it felt like to be heartbroken.
God, I was wrong. So damn wrong.
This is heartbroken.
This.
Right now.
Warren’s arms wrap around me, and he pulls
me to him. I know he doesn’t want to see me up-
set, and I’m really trying my best not to appear
that way. Crying about it won’t help, anyway. It
hasn’t helped for the past six days I’ve been do-
ing it.
I pull away from Warren and walk to the
counter, where I tear off a paper towel. I wad it
up and wipe my eyes with it. “I hate feelings,” I
say as I sniffle back more tears.
Warren laughs and nods in agreement. “Why
do you think I chose to be with a girl who has
none?”
The Bridgette diss makes me laugh. I do my
best to suck it up and wipe away the rest of my
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tears, because, as I told myself before, the out-
come of Ridge and Maggie doesn’t matter to my
situation. No matter how things turn out between
them, it still doesn’t mean anything for Ridge and
me. Things are entirely too complicated between
us, and nothing but space and time can change
that.
“I’ll go watch a movie with you,” I say to
Warren. “But it better not be a porn.”
Ridge
“Give me my damn keys, Ridge,” Warren signs.
I calmly shake my head for the third time in
five minutes. “I’ll give you the keys when you
tell me where she lives.”
He glares at me hard, still refusing to budge.
I’ve had his keys for most of the day now, and
I’ll be damned if I’ll give them back before he
gives me the information I need. I know it’s only
been three weeks since Maggie broke up with
me, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about
how everything I’ve done to Sydney has affected
her. I need to know if she’s okay. I’ve gone this
long without contacting her simply because I’m
not sure what I’ll say when I eventually do see
her. All I know is that I need to see her, or I’ll
more than likely never sleep again. It’s been
more than three weeks since the last time I had a
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full night’s sleep, and my mind just needs
reassurance.
Warren sits across from me at the table, and I
return my attention to the computer in front of
me. Despite the fact that I want to blame my en-
tire past few weeks on computers, I know it was
all my fault, so I sucked it up and bought a new
one. I still have to rely on a computer for income,
unfortunately.
Warren reaches across the table and slams my
laptop shut, forcing me to look up at him.
“Nothing good will come of it,” he signs. “It’s
only been three weeks since you and Maggie
ended things. I’m not giving you Sydney’s ad-
dress, because you don’t need to see her. Now,
give me my keys, or I’m taking your car.”
I grin smugly. “Good luck finding my keys.
They’re in the same spot I hid yours.”
He shakes his head in frustration. “Why are
you being such a dick, Ridge? She’s finally on
her own and making a life for herself and doing
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well, and you want to barge in and confuse her
all over again?”
“How do you know she’s doing well? Do you
talk to her?” The desperation in my question sur-
prises me, because I didn’t know until this
second just how much I need her to be okay.
“Yeah, I’ve seen her a few times. Bridgette
and I had lunch with her yesterday.”
I fall back against my chair, slightly annoyed
that he didn’t tell me this but relieved to know
she’s not holed up in her apartment, devastated.
“Has she asked about me? Does she know
about Maggie and me?”
He nods. “She knows. She asked how things
went with the two of you, so I told her the truth.
She hasn’t brought it up since then.”
Jesus Christ. Knowing that she knows the truth
should relieve my worry, but it only intensifies it.
I can’t imagine what she must think about my
lack of communication with her now that she
knows about Maggie. The fact that I haven’t con-
tacted her at all probably has her believing I
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blame her. I lean forward and look pleadingly to
Warren.
“Please, Warren. Tell me where she lives.”
He shakes his head. “Give me my keys.”
I shake my head.
He rolls his eyes at our matched stubbornness
and pushes himself away from the table, then
storms off to his room.
I open my texts to Sydney, and begin scrolling
through them as I do every single day, wishing I
had the courage to text her. I’m afraid it will be
easier for her to shut me out through a text than it
would be if I were to show up at her front door,
which is why I haven’t texted her. Despite the
fact that I don’t want to agree with Warren, I
know that nothing good will come from my con-
tacting her. I know we’re not in a place to start a
relationship, and seeing her in person would only
exacerbate how much I miss her. However,
knowing what I should do and abiding by what I
should do are two completely different things.
? ? ?
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My light flicks on. Seconds later, my shoulders
are being violently shaken. I smile through the
grogginess, knowing by Warren’s presence alone
that I’ve got him right where I want him. I turn
over and look up at him.
“Something wrong?” I sign.
“Where are they?”
“Where are what?”
“My condoms, Ridge. Where the hell did you
hide my condoms?”
I knew that if stealing his keys didn’t work,
then stealing his condoms would. I’m just glad he
thought to put on shorts before leaving Bridgette
in his bed and storming into my room.
“You want your condoms?” I sign. “Tell me
where she lives.”
Warren runs his palms over his face, and from
the looks of it, I think he’s groaning. “Forget it.
I’ll go to the store and buy new ones.”
Before he turns to walk out of my room, I sit
up on the bed. “How do you plan on driving to
the store? I have your keys, remember?”
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He pauses for a second, and then his face re-
laxes when he’s hit with a new epiphany. “I’ll
take Bridgette’s car.”
“Good luck finding her keys.”
Warren stares at me hard for several seconds,
then finally slumps his shoulders and turns to-
ward my dresser. He grabs a pen and paper and
writes something down, wads it up, and throws it
at me. “Here’s her address, a*shole. Now, give
me my keys.”
I unfold the paper and double-check to make
sure he actually wrote an address down. I reach
behind my nightstand, and grab his box of con-
doms, and toss it to him.
“That should do you for now. I’ll tell you
where your keys are after I confirm that this is
really her address.”
Warren pulls one of the condoms out of the
box and tosses it at me.
“Take this with you when you go, because
that’s definitely her address.” He turns and leaves
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the room, and no sooner is he gone than I’m up
and dressed and heading out the front door.
I don’t even know what time it is.
I don’t even care.