He chuckled and shook his head, his eyes still on mine. “You’re really somethin’, you know that, Peyton Clark?”
I didn’t really know how to respond so I figured a good old-fashioned thank-you worked best. “Thanks, Ryan.”
He just nodded, taking another sip of his Perrier, his eyes never leaving mine. “Your ex-husband was a fool to let you go.”
I swallowed hard at the mention of Jonathon. I hadn’t thought about him in a while, but whenever I did, a sinking sort of feeling took hold of my stomach, making the rest of my body feel tight, constricted. “He was a lot of things.”
The waiter returned with our drinks and said nothing as he served them on the table. Ryan nodded his thanks and took a sip of his whiskey. I stirred the ice cubes in my amaretto sour while I tried to banish thoughts of Jonathon from my mind.
“Peyton?”
I glanced up at Ryan and nodded. “Hmm?”
“You’ve never really talked much about your marriage or your ex-husband,” he commented. “Actually, I think you’ve mentioned him once.”
I bit my lip, not exactly happy at where this conversation was headed, but I could understand why it needed to come out, all the same. Ryan clearly wanted to know more about me, and my marriage was something that had defined me for the last five years. “I generally try to avoid talking or thinking about him,” I answered honestly.
Ryan nodded. “If it’s painful, we can drop the subject.”
I reminded myself what this conversation really was—a way for Ryan to get closer to me, to learn my background, in order to understand me. “No, we can talk about it,” I answered quickly, even though there was a part of me that definitely didn’t want to. “What would you like to know?”
“Did you leave him?”
I nodded. “Yes, but I took way too long to do it.”
He took another sip of his Jameson. “Why did you wait so long?”
“That’s the twenty-million-dollar question,” I answered as I took a deep breath and slowly released it, taking a sip of my sour before facing him again. “I don’t really know. I guess he just had a way of zapping my self-confidence.”
“What do you mean?”
I shrugged. “Jonathon is a very wealthy lawyer, and his public image always has and always will mean more to him than anything else. I think he considered me to be a good move where his image was concerned.”
“Why?” Ryan asked.
“He is all about community service—showing the public that he cares in order to woo big clients, blah blah blah. Everything Jonathon ever did had to benefit him in some way.” I dropped my gaze to my amaretto sour because I wasn’t exactly thrilled admitting this next part. “When he met me, I was a mess.”
“A mess?” Ryan scoffed, as if the thought were completely ridiculous to him.
I glanced up at him and nodded, sighing. “I was living with a friend who was a drug addict.” I watched his eyes go wide just like I knew they would. “So, as you can imagine, my life started to spiral out of control.”
“But you were in college, studying history?” Ryan asked, his eyebrows meeting in the middle.
“Yes, I was…Let’s just say it wasn’t easy to balance school life with a robust partying life.”
“Were you an addict too?”
“I came close but something always held me back. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I dabbled, but no, I wouldn’t say I was an addict.” I took a sip of my drink and wondered if all I was doing was scaring perfect Ryan Kelly away. Well, the cat was way out of the bag now, so there was no going back.
“So?”
“So I met Jonathon while I was working part-time as a cocktail waitress in this hoity-toity club in Los Angeles,” I said with a strange little laugh. “He immediately knew that I was going nowhere, that I was a mess and in need of direction. So he recognized his opportunity.”
“I don’t understand,” Ryan said while shaking his head.
“What better form of public service than to rehabilitate some poor, hopeless girl and then marry her? All his clients, the press—they ate it up. It was like this fairy-tale, rags-to-riches story, and of course, he’s the one who came out on top!”
Ryan frowned. “You think he married you as a career move?”
“I know he did.” I took another sip of my drink. “And I was the model wife for a while because I believed his charade just like everyone else did. Until one day it dawned on me that I was living a completely inauthentic life and I’d lost myself in the process.”
“Lost yourself?” Ryan repeated.
“Yeah,” I said and nodded. “It’s a very strange thing when you wake up one day and realize you aren’t the person you thought you were.”
“What sort of person did you used to be?”
I started to answer the question but then closed my mouth as I realized the answer wouldn’t come quite so easily. Instead, I pondered it for a few seconds before responding. “I used to be fun,” I finally said. “I used to be carefree, outgoing, and spontaneous. I was up for anything.”
“And you weren’t up for anything when you were married?” Ryan asked.
I shook my head. “It was like that part of me died, like I just became this automaton to Jonathon. I was like this yes-man, or woman, who basically did whatever he told me to. And then once I realized I’d become his puppet, I decided to try to be myself but that didn’t go over well because Jonathon didn’t like anything other than the Stepford Wife Peyton.”
“So why did you stay so long?”
I cocked my head to the side as I pondered the question. “I guess I stayed because I was too afraid to leave.”
“You don’t seem lackin’ in self-confidence to me,” Ryan answered as he continued to study me, his eyes narrowed and his jaw tight. It was pretty clear that he didn’t like what I was saying.
I nodded. “I’m a different person now than I used to be.” I focused on my amaretto sour and pushed each of the ice cubes down with my straw before I looked back up at Ryan.
“I like the person you are now,” he said softly. “In fact, I like her a lot.” He was quiet for a few seconds as he studied me. “I don’t see anythin’ Stepford in you at all. You’re strong, capable, funny, charmin’, sweet, and you’re beautiful.”
I could feel myself beaming as tears suddenly threatened my eyes. I glanced down at my drink and blinked them away. I just felt so incredibly close to Ryan, grateful to him because he accepted me for who I was. I looked up at him again and smiled. “It’s funny to say, but I feel like I’m home here, you know? I’m happier now than I’ve been in a very long time.”
“Glad to hear it,” he answered, holding up his glass with a broad grin. “To Peyton findin’ herself…and me in the process.”
I smiled and clinked my glass on his. “Cheers.”
10
When we found ourselves back at my house, I couldn’t help wishing we were still at dinner. It was just so easy to enjoy Ryan’s company. We talked, joked, and laughed as if we’d known each other all our lives. The drive to my house was a fairly informative one, with Ryan pointing out various homes he’d renovated, along with the homes of the rich and famous. We parked alongside the crumbling curb and Ryan was quick on his feet to open my door for me, ever the gentleman. He held my arm as we walked up the pathway, and I couldn’t deny how good it felt to have him so attentive, not to mention so close to me.
As soon as I unlocked my front door, the contrast in ambiance between the ethereal airiness of Antoine’s restaurant and the darkness of my house wasn’t lost on me. The brightness, soft chit-chat of guests, and coziness of the restaurant starkly accentuated the empty, gloomy foyer that loomed before us. I wasn’t sure if it was just a trick of my mind, but it seemed like there was also a shadowy, ominous feeling to the walls and the broad expanse of aged walnut floors.