It Begins With Us

24.

"Gotchu." I mumble quietly against him, but I'm so sure that they all heard.

After a shocked moment his lips curve into his usual smirk and I pull away. Ryle crosses his arms smugly and settles back into his chair. I turn to the others, Alyssa's staring past our heads the corner's of her lips twitching. Marshall is grinning like the Cheshire himself, Atlas is awkwardly watching Lily as she stares at us, appalled. I feel a veil of heat fall over my face and I press my lips together.

"Yeah, so I'm thirty five, how about you?" I ask calmly and nonchalantly.

Marshall's absolutely loving my take and attitude. I could tell by the way he openly wiggles in his chair, leans forward planting both elbows on the table, and watches us. His eyes ping ponging between Lily and I.

"Same as Ryle." She says her eyes flicking over to him, lingering on him.

My eyes turn to Ryle as well and he doesn't look at her, looks straight past her head. She could have just said she's thirty three, she didn't have to put it in likeness to Ryle.

'If she realizes and accepts that she's not completely over him, will Ryle go back to her?' I think and just the thought of it makes my fingers curl and I clutch tightly onto Ryle's blazer.

"We're going to go dance some more." Ryle announces to Alyssa and Marshall, his voice ripping through my tension.

Standing up he pulls me long, back to the tiled floor. We take our positions and start swaying like before.

"I did it." I say incredulously a hot wave of shame washing over me, and he snickers.

"Yeah, yeah you did." He twirls me out and I don't meet his gaze.

"Hey." He calls out to me, his voice serious and low, I meet his gaze and he pulls me in. "What's on your mind?" Ryle asks his jaw rubbing against my temple as he leans down.

"You." I confess.

"Perfect." He replies making me smile. 

"And Lily." I add.

"I take it back." He stops swaying.

"What about you?" I ask pulling away from him. I grab his hand and lead him to an empty table.

"I'm sexy." He replies and I snort.

"I already know that, but that's not what I meant. What were you thinking about when we were sitting at the table?" I raise an eyebrow and he falls silent.

"I was thinking about you." Ryle says nodding his head. "And Lily." He adds.

"What were you thinking?" I ask my heart beating so slow right now I'm afraid it'll stop.

"I was thinking about how she left me because I hurt her." He confess rubbing the back of his neck.

The little gesture makes him seem like a lost school boy who doesn't understand where he went wrong, where he took the wrong turn.

"And I was thinking about how I hurt you, and you stayed. Which one of you made the right decision?" Ryle looks up and my heart nearly does stop.

His eyes look so worn out, so torn.

"Which one do you think?" I ask back and he drops his head again.

'Say me.' I will him even though I know we both made the right choice. Lily just wasn't right for him, and she left. I am right for him, so I stayed. Yet still, all I can think about myself, 'Say me.'

"If my daughter," he starts carefully his hand clenching and unclenching, "if she came to me and told me that her husband hit her. I'd never let her go back to him."

"Not even if she told you he was sick," I retort, "and willing to go through all the treatment in the world to fix himself if it meant he could love her without hurting her? What if he'd become a better man?"

My thoughts are reeling and my heart is racing.

"He's not sick!" Ryle's voice drops, and my heart jumps in my chest. "He's just scum."

'We both know we're not talking about a hypothetical person anymore.'

I can feel eyes, hundreds of eyes staring into us. I can see hundreds of tongues moving to talk about us. I can hear hundreds of words spoken against us. I can taste the bad blood that the hundreds of people in this very room are hungry for.

Suddenly, for a moment, I wish I could travel like I used too. Disappear, leave everything, my clothes, my troubles, my happiness, my love, leave it all behind and distance myself by years, months, weeks, days even.

And then that moment is over like a blown out match and I wish the longing inside me would just die and disappear itself, just leave me behind.

Here is where I belong, with this man that I love. This stubborn man that won't rise above his past.

"Yes, yes he is sick." I enunciate my words carefully, trembling as I get up off of my seat. "He's so sick that it's left him too blind to even see it, much less fix it. That is what's turning him into scum." My blood is boiling, and I wish could just slap a hand over my mouth. "As the one who's sick, it's his responsibility above any others' to look for a cure. If he doesn't step forward to take the cure in the first place, then how is he supposed to become the man that I can love without getting hurt?"

A ridiculous degree of pain flashes through Ryle's eyes, but I can't see myself even wanting to ease it. I've had enough of troubled people stubbornly denying the help they need. Medicine may be bitter, but it's there to cure you nonetheless.

"I need a moment. I will be back." I say firmly.

I turn and walk out of the hall my blood pounding against my skull. I leave him there, broiling in silent rage, staring off like a lost child. I walk over to the valet and get him to take me to Ryle's car. He leaves me there with the keys and I press my hands to the heater.

I sit and sit wondering what I should do next, I consider every route. I even consider going back to Toronto, but the thought of leaving terrifies me more. Even when I've calmed down for some reason I can't seem to get myself out of the car and back to the hall. I'm exhausted.

Eventually the driver's side door opens and I watch from my peripheral as Ryle gets into the car and locks us in.