My heart drops from my chest. “Then why are you here?”
He just smiles. Slipping his hand into his pocket, he pulls out a folded check. “Do I leave the donations with you?”
None of us move.
Stepping forward, he dares to reach out and slip the check into the pocket of Ilmari’s tux. Then he gives me one last knowing look. “I’ll see you around, Tess.”
“No, you won’t,” I say, finding my voice at last.
His smirk turns into a glower.
“This is the end, Troy. From this moment, I will never see or speak to you again. Even as you stand before me, I do not see you. There is nothing left. Absolutely nothing. Take this as the last word you ever hear from my lips: goodbye.”
I’ve said the words, but I know his narcissism won’t let him absorb them. So, I’m not surprised when he just smirks and says, “We’ll see.”
With that, he turns and walks away, taking all my air with him. He hardly clears the glass doors before Jake lets out an exasperated groan. “Ohmygod, what an awful fucking piece of human garbage! Tess, you’re seriously still married to that guy?”
“I have never wanted to kill someone so much in my life,” Caleb says, his arms going around Rachel as he pulls her closer. She clings to him, one hand still clasped in Ilmari’s large hand.
“Fuck, I know, right?” Jake cries. “We are fixing that pronto. Your divorce is my new life’s mission, I swear to fucking God.”
Rachel turns to me, slipping away from her men. Hands shaking, she cups my face, tears in her eyes. “Are you okay?”
I just shake my head, holding back my tears. No, I’m not okay. In this moment, okay feels like an impossibility.
“You will be,” she says, kissing my cheek. “Tess, he will never hurt you again.”
But I don’t care about me right now. There’s only one person on my mind. “Ryan.” I say the word with the only air left in my lungs.
“Yeah, we’ll find him. Okay, honey? Right now. We’ll all look.” She nods at her men, giving them a silent order, and they scatter, set on their mission. “We’ll find him,” she says again.
But I know the truth. Troy already did.
64
I stand there in Rachel’s arms, heart pounding. Her men are all on the hunt for Ryan. Other Rays in the room have taken notice of us.
Poppy is the first to reach us, placing a hand on Rachel’s shoulder. “What just happened? Who was that?”
Novy and Morrow appear suddenly behind her, framing her like two angry gargoyles, their eyes both locked on the door Troy just exited through.
“That was my ex-husband,” I reply.
“Oh, heavens. Are you okay?”
“No. I need to find Ryan.” I lift my gaze to her, glancing between her and her men. “Have you seen him?”
Poppy shakes her head, but Morrow nods.
“Oh god, when?” I say, taking his hand.
“I saw that guy talking to him over on the other side of the room,” he replies. “He handed him something and walked away. I didn’t really pay much attention though. That’s all I saw.”
“Where did Ryan go?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know,” he replies.
Just then, Nancy hurries forward. “Tess, I couldn’t find Ryan. I swear, I looked everywhere. His car is still here, but the man himself has vanished into thin air.”
My heart sinks, but I find her a smile. “It’s okay, Nance. Don’t worry, I’ll find him.”
“What else do you need me to do?” she says, dutifully waiting for instruction.
I glance around the room. The people closest to us are still casting wary looks, but in the back of the room, I hear laughing and mingling. Not everyone was pulled under by the Troy Tornado. The alert has clearly gone out across the Rays though. All the players are moving closer, their conversations hushed, their expressions worried.
I turn to Nancy, squeezing her hand. “You and Cheryl hold down the fort, okay? Tell Joey he’s giving the speech in fifteen minutes. Keep it short. Nothing more than thanking the donors and guests and wishing everyone a safe drive home.”
She nods. “But…what do you need?”
“I need to find Ryan,” I say again.
“Go,” says Rachel. “He’s here somewhere. He wouldn’t leave without you.”
“Wouldn’t he?” I say, heart in my throat.
“He loves you, Tess,” Rachel replies. “Go find him. I’ll put all the Rays on alert.”
With a nod, I’m off. I slip around the edge of the room, hurrying towards the door that leads into the cloak room where we all stashed our coats and bags. Digging to the bottom of the supply box, I tug out my little clutch and open it, plucking out my phone.
My heart races as I flick my thumb across the lock screen, eager to see if he left me a voice memo. The home screen flashes bright, but there are no messages from Ryan. No texts. No voice memos. No funny GIFs.
I tap his number and put the phone to my ear, praying that the dial tone will connect. It rings once. Twice. Three times. Then his voicemail picks up.
Scrambling to my feet, I leave the closet. “Ryan, baby, where are you? Please call me. Please let me know you’re okay. I know Troy talked to you and whatever he said, whatever he did, it doesn’t change how I feel about you. I love you. I’m coming to find you, okay? I’m—god, just—I’m coming.”
Clutching my phone, I hitch up the bottom of my dress as I search the venue. “Has anyone seen him?” I ask Sully as I pass him in the front hall.
“No,” he replies, his expression worried. “We’re all looking,” he assures me. “He’s here somewhere, Tess.”
“Please keep looking,” I say, dashing away from him.
If I were Ryan, where would I go? I don’t leave in my car, but I’m nowhere to be found on the premises. Where am I? Where feels safe?
I stop in my tracks as I look around the kitchen. The confused staff look back at me, packing away their catering equipment. He’s not here. God, where would he go? Where would I go if I was running from myself? If I was feeling trapped, with nowhere left to run, where would I go? Where would I stand to meet my end?
Spinning on my heel, I hurry out of the kitchen through the side door, the cool January air caressing my fevered skin as I do my least favorite thing on earth. I kick off my heels, hike up the bottom of my dress, and I run. I run to Ryan.
Looping around the back side of the building, I take the stairs up onto the back deck and race across it, heading for the boardwalk. If I was feeling driven to the end of my rope, I would run until there was nowhere left to go. I would run to the water’s edge.
My feet pound the boardwalk, and my breath comes out in sharp pants as I crest the dune. I stop at the end of the boardwalk, my naked toes right on the edge. A sea of white sand stretches out before me, ending in the black of the ocean.
“Where are you?” I say, my gaze darting left and right.
The torches remain unlit, but there’s enough light pollution even on this stormy night for me to peer down the beach and see a pacing silhouette some hundred yards away.
It’s Ryan. He’s safe.
I sigh with relief, even as I hitch my dress back up and take to the beach. I run to him, my feet sinking in the deep, cold sand. Beyond us, less than a mile out, the thunderhead rolls in, dark and ominous, the clouds rumbling like the deep belly of a hungry beast.
Ryan stands at the surf’s edge in his tuxedo, the water lapping inches from his feet. His phone light glows in the darkness like a beacon, drawing me to him. He holds it up over a clutch of papers in his hand, reading them.
My heart sinks. This is what brought him out here, whatever Troy gave him. “Ryan,” I call, needing him to see me.
He spins around, his face cast in darkness by the bright light of his phone. “Don’t come any closer!”
I stop on instinct. He’s still a good fifteen yards away. “What are you doing out here?”
“Tess, go back,” he shouts. “Don’t come any closer.”
“Ryan—what happened? What did Troy say to you? What did he do?”
“I think he served me a restraining order,” he calls.
My heart drops. “What?”