Chapter 64 064
RYAN
Getting home later that night, I met my mom just outside the door, waiting.
She stood under the porch light in her long coat, arms folded tight across her chest, purse clutched like she was bracing for a fight. The yellow glow cast sharp shadows across her face, highlighting the familiar lines between her brows—the ones that only showed up when she was upset, or worried, or both.
I slowed the car as I pulled into the driveway, rain beginning to patter softly against the windshield. I killed the engine but didn’t get out right away. I just sat there, hands resting on the steering wheel, chest rising and falling slowly as I tried to collect myself.
The date with Emily replayed in my head on a brutal loop.
The silence.
The kiss.
The way her hands had trembled against my chest.
The way she’d looked at me like she wanted me and didn’t trust me all at once.
I still felt her lips on mine. Still tasted the wine we’d shared. Still heard her quiet take care when I dropped her off—soft, final, like a door being closed gently but firmly.
My head was a mess.
And now my mom was here.
I finally pushed the door open and stepped out, shutting it behind me. The rain picked up as I walked toward her, soaking into my jacket.
“Mom,” I said carefully. “What are you doing here?”
She gave a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I had a fight with your dad.”
I let out a short, tired laugh. “Sure.”
She tilted her head, studying my face like she always did when she knew I wasn’t telling her everything. “Where were you coming from?”
I hesitated just long enough to give myself away. “I was with Emily. We went on a date.”
Her smile vanished instantly. “Emily again.”
I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose, then gently took her arm and steered her inside before the conversation escalated on the porch. She didn’t resist, but she didn’t speak either.
We walked through the foyer, past the living room where Zara’s toys were still scattered across the rug from earlier. A stuffed unicorn lay on its side, one shoe missing, blocks half-stacked into a crooked tower.
I flipped on the kitchen light, the sudden brightness cutting through the quiet like a blade.
She pulled her arm free and turned to face me, eyes sharp, posture stiff. “Why are you trying to bring up what should be left in the past?”
I leaned back against the counter, the cool surface pressing into my lower spine. Exhaustion weighed down every muscle in my body, settling deep in my bones. “Mom… please. You know Emily and I can never be the past. I love her too much to leave her there.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line before she scoffed. “Love isn’t enough, Ryan.”
“I know,” I snapped, the words coming out harsher than I meant them to. I inhaled, forcing myself to calm down, softening my tone. “But it’s not nothing either.”
She opened her mouth to argue—
The doorbell rang.
The sharp sound sliced through the tension, making both of us pause. I frowned instinctively. “Who the hell—”
“I’ll get it,” I said, already moving, grateful for the interruption.
When I opened the door, Miranda stood there.
Rain had dampened her hair, strands clinging to her cheeks and neck. Her eyes were red and glossy, swollen like she’d been crying for a while. An overnight bag hung off one shoulder, and her knuckles were white where she gripped the strap too tightly, like letting go might make her fall apart completely.
“Hey…” I said slowly, taking her in. “Is everything fine?”
She shook her head, lips trembling. “I was stranded. My boyfriend locked me out of the house.”
And then she broke.
Her shoulders shook as she burst into tears, breath hitching, hands flying up to her face like she could physically hold herself together. I didn’t think. I didn’t hesitate. Instinct kicked in before logic had a chance to interfere. I stepped aside and pulled her in, my arm settling around her shoulders.
“Hey, hey,” I murmured, lowering my voice automatically. “Come here. It’s okay.”
She clutched the front of my shirt for balance as she stepped inside—and then she froze.
Her eyes lifted past me, locking onto my mom.
“Oh,” Miranda said quickly, wiping at her face with the back of her hand. “I’m so sorry. I never knew you had a guest.”
My mother’s demeanor changed instantly.
Her posture softened, her expression smoothing into something warm and welcoming. She smiled—bright and familiar, the way she used to smile at Emily when we were still married. The way she smiled when she approved.
“Of course I’m not a guest, darling,” she said smoothly, stepping forward. “I’m his mother.”
She moved closer and wrapped Miranda in a hug, pulling her in like she belonged there. “Hope you’re doing fine?”
Miranda nodded against her shoulder, sniffing. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”
I watched the exchange, something twisting uncomfortably in my stomach.
Mom pulled back and turned to me, eyes sharp again but gleaming with something unreadable. “Who is this?”
“That’s Miranda,” I said evenly. “My assistant.”
She smiled and hugged her again—tighter this time, almost possessive. “Oh, nice to meet you.”
Then she turned her attention fully to me. “Will she be sleeping over?”
I hesitated for half a second before nodding. “Miranda has nowhere to stay tonight.”
“Ohhh…” Mom breathed, lips curling like she’d just been handed a secret.
I cleared my throat. “Miranda, please come with me. I’ll show you to a room.”
Mom stepped forward immediately. “I’ll be sleeping in the guest room.”
I shot her a look. “There are four guest rooms, Ma.”
She glared right back. “I need all four.”
I let out a slow breath. “You’re being ridiculous.”
She crossed her arms. “You can’t just leave the poor girl to sleep alone.”
Miranda waved her hands quickly, shaking her head. “It’s fine, ma. Really. I’ll be okay.”
Mom didn’t even look at her. “No, it’s not fine. You can’t let her sleep alone given what she’s going through.”
I rubbed my temples, the headache pounding harder now. Fatigue crashed over me like a wave, pulling everything else down with it. “I’m so tired, Mom. I had a long day. If you think Miranda can’t sleep alone, then let her sleep with you.”
My mom’s face went red instantly. Her mouth opened, then snapped shut. She didn’t say a word.
I turned to Miranda. “Let’s go.”
She nodded quietly and followed me down the hallway, footsteps soft against the floor.
When we reached one of the guest rooms, I opened the door and flicked on the light. The room was simple and calm—clean sheets neatly tucked, neutral walls, a soft lamp glowing warmly beside the bed.
“Rest here for the night,” I said, gesturing toward the room. “There are extra clothes in the wardrobe.”
She gave me a small, grateful smile. “Thank you.”
I nodded once, already drained, and turned away.
When I finally reached my room, I shut the door behind me and leaned against it, eyes closing as the weight of the day settled fully onto my shoulders.
Today had been too long.
Too heavy.
I just wanted a good night’s rest.