It Ends With Us (25 page)

He’s really laughing now. He pulls me to him and kisses the side of my head. “She won’t talk about Jesus. She already loves you, based on what I’ve told her. All you have
to do is be you, Lily.”

I start nodding. “Be me. Okay. I think I can pretend to be me for one evening. Right?”

The doors open and he walks me out of the elevator, toward Allysa’s apartment. It’s funny watching him knock, but I guess he technically doesn’t live here anymore. Over the
last few months, he just sort of slowly began staying with me. All of his clothes are at my apartment. His toiletries. Last week he even hung that ridiculous blurry photograph of me up in our
bedroom, and it really felt official after that.

“Does she know we live together?” I ask him. “Is she okay with that? I mean, we aren’t married. She goes to church every Sunday. Oh, no, Ryle! What if your mother thinks
I’m a blasphemous whore?”

Ryle nudges his head toward the apartment door and I spin around to see his mother standing in the doorway, a layer of shock on her face.

“Mother,” Ryle says. “Meet Lily. My blasphemous whore.”

Oh dear God.

His mother reaches for me and pulls me in for a hug, and her laughter is everything I need to get me through this moment. “Lily!” she says, pushing me out to arm’s length so
she can get a good look at me. “Sweetie, I don’t think you’re a blasphemous whore. You’re the angel I’ve been praying would land in Ryle’s lap for the last ten
years!”

She ushers us into the apartment. Ryle’s father is the next to greet me with a hug. “No, definitely not a blasphemous whore,” he says. “Not like Marshall here, who sank
his teeth into my little girl when she was only seventeen.” He glares back at Marshall, who is sitting on the couch.

Marshall laughs. “That’s where you’re wrong, Dr. Kincaid, because Allysa was the one who sank her teeth into me first. My teeth were in another girl who tasted like Cheetos
and . . .”

Marshall doubles over when Allysa elbows him in the side.

And just like that, every single fear I had has vanished. They’re perfect. They’re normal. They say
whore
and laugh at Marshall’s jokes.

I couldn’t ask for anything better.

Three hours later, I’m lying on Allysa’s bed with her. Their parents went to bed early, claiming jet lag. Ryle and Marshall are in the living room, watching sports. I have my hand on
Allysa’s stomach, waiting to feel the baby kick.

“Her feet are right here,” she says, moving my hand over a few inches. “Give it a few seconds. She’s really active tonight.”

We remain quiet while we both wait for her to kick. When it happens, I squeal with laughter. “Oh my God! It’s like an alien!”

Allysa holds her hands on her stomach, smiling. “These last two and a half months are going to be hell,” she says. “I’m so ready to meet her.”

“Me too. I can’t wait to be an aunt.”

“I can’t wait for you and Ryle to have a baby,” she says.

I fall onto my back and put my hands behind my bed. “I don’t know if he wants any. We’ve never really talked about it.”

“It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t want any,” she says. “He will. He didn’t want a relationship before you. He didn’t want to get married before you, and
I feel a proposal coming on any month now.”

I prop my head up on my hand and face her. “We’ve barely been together six months. Pretty sure he wants to wait a lot longer than that.”

I don’t push things with Ryle when it comes to speeding things up in our relationship. Our lives are perfect how they are. We’re too busy for a wedding anyway, so I don’t mind
if he wants to wait a lot longer.

“What about you?” Allysa presses. “Would you say yes if he proposed?”

I laugh. “Are you kidding me? Of course. I’d marry him tonight.”

Allysa looks over my shoulder at her bedroom door. She purses her lips together and tries to hide her smile.

“He’s standing in the doorway, isn’t he?”

She nods.

“He heard me say that, didn’t he?”

She nods again.

I roll onto my back and look at Ryle, propped up against the doorframe with his arms folded over his chest. I can’t tell what he’s thinking after hearing that. His expression is
tight. His jaw is tight. His eyes are narrowed in my direction.

“Lily,” he says with stoic composure. “I would marry the
hell
out of you.”

His words make me smile the most embarrassing, widest smile, so I pull a pillow over my face. “Why, thank you, Ryle,” I say, my words muffled by the pillow.

“That’s really sweet,” I hear Allysa say. “My brother is actually sweet.”

The pillow is pulled away from me and Ryle is standing over me, holding it at his side. “Let’s go.”

My heart begins to beat faster. “Right now?”

He nods. “I took the weekend off because my parents are in town. You have people who can run your store for you. Let’s go to Vegas and get married.”

Allysa sits up on the bed. “You can’t do that,” she says. “Lily’s a girl. She wants a real wedding with flowers and bridesmaids and shit.”

Ryle looks back at me. “Do you want a real wedding with flowers and bridesmaids and shit?”

I think about it for a second.

“No.”

The three of us are quiet for a moment, and then Allysa starts kicking her legs up and down on the bed, giddy with excitement. “They’re getting married!” she yells. She rolls
off the bed and rushes toward the living room. “Marshall, pack our bags! We’re going to Vegas!”

Ryle reaches down and grabs my hand, pulling me to a stand. He’s smiling, but there’s no way I’m doing this unless I know for sure he wants it.

“Are you sure about this, Ryle?”

He runs his hands through my hair and pulls my face to his, brushing his lips against mine. “Naked truth,” he whispers. “I’m so excited to be your husband, I could piss
my damn pants.”

“It’s been six weeks Mom, you gotta get over it.”

My mother sighs into the phone. “You’re my only daughter. I can’t help it if I’ve been dreaming about your wedding your whole life.”

She still hasn’t forgiven me, even though she was there. We called her right before Allysa booked our flights. We forced her out of bed, we forced Ryle’s parents out of bed, and then
we forced them all on a midnight flight to Vegas. She didn’t try to talk me out of it because I’m sure she could tell that Ryle and I had made up our minds by the time she made it to
the airport. But she hasn’t let me forget it. She’s been dreaming of a huge wedding and dress shopping and cake tasting since the day I was born.

I kick my feet up on the couch. “How about I make it up to you?” I say to her. “What if, whenever we decide to have a baby, I promise to do it the natural way and not buy one
in Vegas?”

My mom laughs. Then she sighs. “As long as you give me grandchildren someday, I guess I can get over it.”

Ryle and I talked about kids on the flight to Vegas. I wanted to make sure that possibility was open for discussion in our future before I made a commitment to spend the rest of my life with
him. He said it was definitely open for discussion. Then we cleared the air about a lot of other things that might cause problems down the road. I told him I wanted separate checking accounts, but
since he makes more money than me, he has to buy me lots of presents all the time to keep me happy. He agreed. He made me promise him I’d never become vegan. That was a simple promise. I love
cheese too much. I told him we had to start some kind of charity, or at least donate to the ones Marshall and Allysa like. He said he already does, and that made me want to marry him even sooner.
He made me promise to vote. He said I was allowed to vote Democratic, Republican, or Independent, as long as I made sure to vote. We shook on it.

By the time we landed in Vegas, we were completely on the same page.

I hear the front door unlocking so I flip onto my back. “Gotta go,” I say to my mother. “Ryle just got home.” He closes the door behind him and then I grin and say,
“Wait. Let me rephrase that, Mom. My
husband
just got home.”

My mother laughs and tells me goodbye. I hang up with her and toss my phone aside. I bring my arm up above my head and rest it lazily against the arm of the couch. Then I prop my leg over the
back of it, letting my skirt slide down my thighs and pool at my waist. Ryle drags his eyes up my body, grinning as he makes his way over to me. He drops to his knees on the couch and slowly crawls
up my body.

“How’s my wife?” he whispers, planting kisses all around my mouth. He presses himself between my legs and I let my head fall back as he kisses down my neck.

This is the life.

We both work almost every day. He works twice as many hours as I do and he only gets home before I’m in bed two or three nights a week. But the nights we actually do get to spend together,
I tend to want him to spend those nights buried deep inside me.

He doesn’t complain.

He finds a spot on my neck and he claims it, kissing it so hard it hurts. “Ouch.”

He lowers himself on top of me and mutters into my neck. “I’m giving you a hickey. Don’t move.”

I laugh, but I let him. My hair is long enough that I can cover it, and I’ve never had a hickey before.

His lips remain in the same spot, sucking and kissing until I can no longer feel the sting. He’s pressed against me, bulging against his scrubs. I move my hands and shove his scrubs down
far enough so that he can slide inside of me. He continues kissing my neck as he takes me right there on the couch.

• • •

He took a shower first, and as soon as he got out, I jumped in. I told him we needed to wash the smell of sex off of us before we had dinner with Allysa and Marshall.

Allysa is due in a few weeks, so she’s forcing as much couple time on us as she can. She’s worried we’ll stop coming to visit after the baby is born, which I know is
ridiculous. The visits will just grow more frequent. I already love my niece more than any of them, anyway.

Okay, maybe not. But it’s close.

I try to avoid getting my hair wet as I rinse off, because we’re already running late. I grab my razor and press it under my arm when I hear a crash. I pause.

“Ryle?”

Nothing.

I finish shaving and then wash the soap off. Another crash.

What in the world is he doing?

I turn off the water and grab a towel, running it over myself. “Ryle!”

He still doesn’t respond. I pull my jeans on in a hurry and open the door as I’m pulling my shirt over my head. “Ryle?”

The nightstand by our bed is tipped over. I move to the living room and see him sitting on the edge of the couch, his head in one of his hands. He’s looking down at something in his other
hand.

“What are you doing?”

He looks up at me and I don’t recognize his expression. I’m confused by what’s happening. I don’t know if he just got bad news or . . . 
Oh, God.
Allysa.

“Ryle, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”

He holds up my phone and just looks at me like I should know what’s happening. When I shake my head in confusion, he holds up a piece of paper. “Funny thing,” he says, setting
my phone on the coffee table in front of him. “I dropped your phone by accident. Cover pops off. I find this number hidden in the back of it.”

Oh, God.

No, no, no.

He crumbles the number in his fist. “I thought, ‘
Huh. That’s weird. Lily doesn’t hide things from me
.’ ” He stands up and picks up my phone.
“So I called it.” He tightens his fist around the phone. “He’s lucky I got his fucking voice mail.” He chunks my phone clear across the room and it crashes against the
wall, shattering to the floor.

There’s a three-second pause where I think this could go one of two ways.

He’s going to leave me.

Or he’s going to hurt me.

He runs a hand through his hair and walks straight for the door.

He leaves
.

“Ryle!” I yell.

Why did I never throw that number away?!

I open the door and run after him. He’s taking the stairs two at a time, and I finally reach him when he’s at the landing of the second floor. I shove myself in front of him and grab
his shirt in my fists. “Ryle, please. Let me explain.”

He grabs my wrists and pushes me away from him.

• • •

“Be still.”

I feel his hands on me. Gentle. Steady.

Tears are flowing and for some reason, they sting.

“Lily, be still. Please.”

His voice is soothing. My head hurts. “Ryle?” I try to open my eyes, but the light is too bright. I can feel a sting at the corner of my eye and I wince. I try to sit up, but I feel
his hand press down on my shoulder.

“You have to be still until I’m finished, Lily.”

I open my eyes again and look up at the ceiling. It’s our bedroom ceiling. “Finished with what?” My mouth hurts when I speak, so I bring my hand up and cover it.

“You fell down the stairs,” he says. “You’re hurt.”

My eyes meet his. There’s concern in them, but also hurt. Anger. He’s feeling
everything
right now, and the only thing I feel is confused.

I close my eyes again and try to remember why he’s angry. Why he’s hurt.

My phone.

Atlas’s number.

The stairwell.

I grabbed his shirt.

He pushed me away.

“You fell down the stairs.”

But I
didn’t
fall.

He pushed me. Again.

That’s twice.

You pushed me, Ryle.

I can feel my whole body start to shake with the sobs. I have no idea how bad I’m hurt, but I don’t even care. No physical pain could even compare to what my heart is feeling in this
moment. I start to slap at his hands, wanting him away from me. I feel him lift off the bed as I curl up into a ball.

I wait for him to try and soothe it out like he did the last time he hurt me, but it never comes. I hear him walking around our bedroom. I don’t know what he’s doing. I’m still
crying when he kneels down in front of me.