When the hour is up and Ryder launches into his “goodbyes” and “see you next weeks”, I grab my purse and get out of there as quickly as I can without running away … again.
I’m almost to my car when I hear footsteps pounding behind me.
I know it’s him, but I don’t stop or turn around. He jogs in front of me and stops, forcing me to stop as well.
“What do you want?” I ask, my tone sharper than normal.
Ryder’s tall, like really tall, so he bends down a bit so he can look into my eyes better. I think he’s looking for something in them. “To make sure you’re okay,” he answers me.
“I’m fine.”
He shakes his head. “You’re not fine or you wouldn’t have run out. It’s okay to get scared and not want to talk. What I want to know is, would you have told me if it was just the two of us?”
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly, adjusting my purse strap on my shoulder.
“Try it now,” he says, tapping his chest. “Tell me why you’ve had a rough few days, Blaire.”
I look away. I don’t want to talk even though the words are right there, bubbling at the surface.
“Come on, Blaire,” he says again, getting right in my face. He’s not mean about it, just persistent. “Talk about it.”
The words burst forth from me like water breaking free from a dam. “My life sucks right now,” I shout into the empty parking lot—since everyone has either left or is still inside the building. “I’m having a baby and Ben’s dead. I miss him so damn much and I’m going to have to raise our child all by myself,” I cry. “How can I teach my baby to love someone they’ll never know?” I choke on the last part.
Ryder stands there, seeming to think carefully about what he’s going to say.
“I know it seems impossible,” his voice is soft, “but you’ll find a way.”
“I won’t.” I shake my head.
“You will.” He touches his hand to my arm.
I bite my lip and look up at him through my damp lashes. “How can you be so sure?”
“Because I did. Granted, my son’s only two, but I make sure he knows who his mom is and that she loves him even though she can’t be here. I know he loves her too, because he’s always asking for her. Her picture, at least.” He shrugs and shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “And as he gets older, I’ll continue to tell him stories about her and what a wonderful person she was. It’s not the same as her being there, but it’s enough.”
I inhale a shaky breath and choke on a sob. “How do you do it?” I ask him. “All on your own?”
He nods. “It’s just me and Cole. My parents help some, and Angela’s parents too. They all love Cole to pieces, even if he’s a little hellion most of the time.” Ryder smiles fondly. “I know things probably seem impossible right now, but trust me, once that baby is in your arms all that goes away. Heck, maybe even sooner for you,” he says. “As a dad, I don’t think it really hits you until the baby’s here.”
“I’m scared,” I confess. I don’t know why, but I find it easy to talk to Ryder. Maybe because our situations are similar, or maybe it’s just him. He has this sweet, easy way about him that instantly puts me at ease without him even trying.
“I’d be more worried about you if you weren’t scared,” he says. “I was scared shitless when Cole was born and knowing that Angela wasn’t going to be around much longer. I didn’t even know how to change a diaper. I’m pretty sure the nurse in the hospital rolled her eyes at me fifty billion times before we left. I bet you at least know how to change a diaper.”
I giggle and he grins, having had his intended effect. “I do,” I say.
He touches my arm again briefly. “You’ll be okay, Blaire. Not today, or tomorrow, or even the next day, but I promise you this: one day you’ll wake up and say I’m okay. After a time, you’ll even wake up and say I’m good. And then, I’m great. But healing doesn’t happen overnight. It takes time and you have to allow yourself to do it. Let yourself feel the pain; your heart will mend itself.” He looks down at his watch and cringes. “I have to go. I’m late to pick up Cole. You have my phone number, though. If you need to talk, call me. You won’t bother me.”
“Do other people call you?” I ask quickly. I don’t know why, but I need to know. I want to make sure he isn’t offering me special treatment.
He shrugs and his t-shirt stretches over his firm, muscular chest. “Sure. Sometimes.”
I nod and tuck a piece of hair behind my ear so that it’s not blowing in the wind.
“Bye,” I call after him. When he turns and smiles at me over his shoulder I add, “Thank you. I … I needed that.”
His smile grows. “You’re welcome.” He tips his head at me and then ducks into his SUV.
I shiver from the cold air and get in my car, cranking up the heat.