Maybe Someday

Chapter Twenty Two

Sydney

My cable won’t be connected until next week. My eyes hurt from reading too much, and maybe also from crying. I finally put a down payment on a car with my leftover student loans, but until I get a job, I can’t really afford the gas. I’d better find a job soon, because I’m pretty sure I’ve fictionalized how great living alone is. I’m tempted to try to get my job back at the library, even if I have to beg. I just need something to keep me busy.

I’m. Freaking. Bored.

So bored that I’m looking at my hands, counting random things that make absolutely no sense to even be counting.

One: the number of people constantly on my mind. (Ridge.)

Two: the number of people I wish would contract a sexually transmitted disease. (Hunter and Tori.)

Three: the number of months since I broke up with my lying, cheating bastard of a boyfriend.

Four: the number of times Warren has checked up on me since I moved out of the apartment.

Five: the number of times Warren has knocked on my door in the last thirty seconds.

Six: the number of days since I last saw Ridge.

Seven: the number of feet from my couch to the front door.

I open the door, and Warren doesn’t even wait for me to invite him in. He smiles and slips past me, holding two white bags in his hands.

“I brought tacos,” he says. “I was driving by on my way home from work and thought you might want some.” He sets the bags on my kitchen counter, then walks to the sofa and plops down.

I close the door and face him. “Thanks for the tacos, but how do I know you aren’t pranking me? What’d you do, switch the beef out with tobacco?”

Warren looks up at me and grins, impressed. “Now, that’s a genius prank idea, Sydney. I think you might finally be getting the hang of it.”

I laugh and take a seat next to him. “Figures, now that I have no roommates to prank.”

He laughs and pats my knee. “Bridgette doesn’t get off work until midnight. Want to go catch a movie?”

My head sinks into the back of the couch almost as quickly as my heart sinks into my stomach. I hate feeling as if he’s only here because he feels sorry for me. The last thing I want to be is someone’s worry.

“Warren, you don’t have to keep coming by here to check on me every day. I know you’re trying to be nice, but I’m fine.” He shifts his weight on the couch so that he’s facing me.

“I’m not coming by here because I feel sorry for you, Sydney. You’re my friend. I miss having you around the apartment. And I might be coming by here because I feel a tad bit remorseful for treating you like complete shit the night Maggie was admitted to the hospital.”

I nod. “Yeah. You were quite the asshole that night.”

“I know.” He laughs. “Don’t worry, Ridge hasn’t let me forget it.”

Ridge.

God, even hearing his name hurts.

Warren realizes his slip-up when he sees the change in my expression. “Shit. Sorry.”

I press my palms into the couch and stand up, wanting to escape the awkwardness of our conversation. It’s really not a subject I need to be talking about, anyway.

“Well, are you hungry?” I ask as I head to the kitchen. “I just spent hours slaving over the stove to make these tacos, so you’d better eat one.”

Warren laughs, walks into the kitchen with me, and takes one of the tacos. I unwrap one and lean against the bar, but before I even bring it to my mouth, I become too nauseated to eat. In all honesty, I haven’t slept or eaten very much in the six days since I moved out. I hate knowing that I had a part in causing so much hurt in another person. Maggie didn’t do anything to deserve how we made her feel. It’s also hard as hell not knowing how things have turned out between the two of them. I haven’t asked Warren about it for obvious reasons, because whatever the outcome, it wouldn’t change things. But now it feels as if I have this huge, gaping hole in my chest from the constant curiosity. As much as I’ve wished for the last three months that Ridge didn’t have a girlfriend, it’s nothing compared to how much I’ve hoped she could forgive him.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

I glance up at Warren, who’s leaning against the counter, watching me think. I shrug my shoulders and set my uneaten food aside, then hug myself and stare down at my feet, afraid that if I look directly at him, he’ll know what I’m thinking.

“Look,” he says, dipping his head to try to get me to look him in the eye. “I know you haven’t asked about him because you know as well as I do how much you need to move on. But if you have questions, I’ll answer them, Sydney. I’ll answer them because you’re my friend, and that’s what friends do.”

My chest rises with my deep intake of breath, and before I can fully release it, the question spills from my mouth. “How is he?”

Warren clenches his jaw, which makes me think he wishes he hadn’t given me the opening to ask about Ridge. “He’s okay. He’ll be okay.”

I nod but instantly have a million follow-up questions to ask.

Did she take him back?

Has he asked about me?

Does he seem happy?

Do you think he regrets me now?

I decide to take it one question at a time, because I’m not even sure his answers will be good for me at this point. I swallow nervously, then look up at him. “Did she forgive him?”

Warren is the one who can’t hold the eye contact now. He straightens up, turns around with his back to me, and places his palms flat on the counter. His head hangs between his shoulders as he sighs uncomfortably.

“I’m not sure if I should be telling you this.” He pauses for a moment, then turns back around to face me. “She did forgive him. From what he told me, she understood the situation between you and Ridge. I’m not saying she wasn’t upset about it at all, but she did forgive him.”

His answer completely slays me. I slap my hand over my mouth to muffle my cry, and then I turn away from Warren. I’m confused by my reaction and confused by my heart. I’m immediately consumed with relief to know that she forgave him, but the relief washes away with grief at the realization that she forgave him. I don’t even know how to feel. I’m relieved for Ridge and grieving for myself.

Warren sighs heavily, and I feel awful for allowing him to see me react this way. I shouldn’t have asked. Dammit, why did I ask?

“I wasn’t finished, Sydney,” he says quietly.

I shake my head and keep facing the opposite direction while he gets out the rest of what he wants to say.

“She forgave him for what happened with you, but what happened with you was also an eye opener about why they were even together in the first place. It turns out she couldn’t find a good enough reason to take him back. Ridge said she’s got a lot of life left to live, but she can’t live it to the fullest when he’s constantly trying to hold her back.”

I bring both hands to my face, completely perplexed by my heart now. Just seconds ago, I was grieving because she forgave him, and now I’m grieving because she didn’t.

Just three months ago, I was sitting outside on my suitcases in the rain, believing I was experiencing what it felt like to be heartbroken.

God, I was wrong. So damn wrong.

This is heartbroken.

This.

Right now.

Warren’s arms wrap around me, and he pulls me to him. I know he doesn’t want to see me upset, and I’m really trying my best not to appear that way. Crying about it won’t help, anyway. It hasn’t helped for the past six days I’ve been doing it.

I pull away from Warren and walk to the counter, where I tear off a paper towel. I wad it up and wipe my eyes with it. “I hate feelings,” I say as I sniffle back more tears.

Warren laughs and nods in agreement. “Why do you think I chose to be with a girl who has none?”

The Bridgette diss makes me laugh. I do my best to suck it up and wipe away the rest of my tears, because, as I told myself before, the outcome of Ridge and Maggie doesn’t matter to my situation. No matter how things turn out between them, it still doesn’t mean anything for Ridge and me. Things are entirely too complicated between us, and nothing but space and time can change that.

“I’ll go watch a movie with you,” I say to Warren. “But it better not be a porn.”

Ridge

“Give me my damn keys, Ridge,” Warren signs.

I calmly shake my head for the third time in five minutes. “I’ll give you the keys when you tell me where she lives.”

He glares at me hard, still refusing to budge. I’ve had his keys for most of the day now, and I’ll be damned if I’ll give them back before he gives me the information I need. I know it’s only been three weeks since Maggie broke up with me, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about how everything I’ve done to Sydney has affected her. I need to know if she’s okay. I’ve gone this long without contacting her simply because I’m not sure what I’ll say when I eventually do see her. All I know is that I need to see her, or I’ll more than likely never sleep again. It’s been more than three weeks since the last time I had a full night’s sleep, and my mind just needs reassurance.

Warren sits across from me at the table, and I return my attention to the computer in front of me. Despite the fact that I want to blame my entire past few weeks on computers, I know it was all my fault, so I sucked it up and bought a new one. I still have to rely on a computer for income, unfortunately.

Warren reaches across the table and slams my laptop shut, forcing me to look up at him.

“Nothing good will come of it,” he signs. “It’s only been three weeks since you and Maggie ended things. I’m not giving you Sydney’s address, because you don’t need to see her. Now, give me my keys, or I’m taking your car.”

I grin smugly. “Good luck finding my keys. They’re in the same spot I hid yours.”

He shakes his head in frustration. “Why are you being such a dick, Ridge? She’s finally on her own and making a life for herself and doing well, and you want to barge in and confuse her all over again?”

“How do you know she’s doing well? Do you talk to her?” The desperation in my question surprises me, because I didn’t know until this second just how much I need her to be okay.

“Yeah, I’ve seen her a few times. Bridgette and I had lunch with her yesterday.”

I fall back against my chair, slightly annoyed that he didn’t tell me this but relieved to know she’s not holed up in her apartment, devastated.

“Has she asked about me? Does she know about Maggie and me?”

He nods. “She knows. She asked how things went with the two of you, so I told her the truth. She hasn’t brought it up since then.”

Jesus Christ. Knowing that she knows the truth should relieve my worry, but it only intensifies it. I can’t imagine what she must think about my lack of communication with her now that she knows about Maggie. The fact that I haven’t contacted her at all probably has her believing I blame her. I lean forward and look pleadingly to Warren.

“Please, Warren. Tell me where she lives.”

He shakes his head. “Give me my keys.”

I shake my head.

He rolls his eyes at our matched stubbornness and pushes himself away from the table, then storms off to his room.

I open my texts to Sydney, and begin scrolling through them as I do every single day, wishing I had the courage to text her. I’m afraid it will be easier for her to shut me out through a text than it would be if I were to show up at her front door, which is why I haven’t texted her. Despite the fact that I don’t want to agree with Warren, I know that nothing good will come from my contacting her. I know we’re not in a place to start a relationship, and seeing her in person would only exacerbate how much I miss her. However, knowing what I should do and abiding by what I should do are two completely different things.

My light flicks on. Seconds later, my shoulders are being violently shaken. I smile through the grogginess, knowing by Warren’s presence alone that I’ve got him right where I want him. I turn over and look up at him.

“Something wrong?” I sign.

“Where are they?”

“Where are what?”

“My condoms, Ridge. Where the hell did you hide my condoms?”

I knew that if stealing his keys didn’t work, then stealing his condoms would. I’m just glad he thought to put on shorts before leaving Bridgette in his bed and storming into my room.

“You want your condoms?” I sign. “Tell me where she lives.”

Warren runs his palms over his face, and from the looks of it, I think he’s groaning. “Forget it. I’ll go to the store and buy new ones.”

Before he turns to walk out of my room, I sit up on the bed. “How do you plan on driving to the store? I have your keys, remember?”

He pauses for a second, and then his face relaxes when he’s hit with a new epiphany. “I’ll take Bridgette’s car.”

“Good luck finding her keys.”

Warren stares at me hard for several seconds, then finally slumps his shoulders and turns toward my dresser. He grabs a pen and paper and writes something down, wads it up, and throws it at me. “Here’s her address, asshole. Now, give me my keys.”

I unfold the paper and double-check to make sure he actually wrote an address down. I reach behind my nightstand, and grab his box of condoms, and toss it to him.

“That should do you for now. I’ll tell you where your keys are after I confirm that this is really her address.”

Warren pulls one of the condoms out of the box and tosses it at me.

“Take this with you when you go, because that’s definitely her address.” He turns and leaves the room, and no sooner is he gone than I’m up and dressed and heading out the front door.

I don’t even know what time it is.

I don’t even care.