Chapter 12: Barging in

I'm a little disoriented today. It can be read from my movements. I stare at Ash, lost in thoughts. I hadn't thought of it that way. I had been so caught up in my own world and affairs that I had not considered Ryan's feelings in the slightest. I hadn't considered the possibility of him looking for me. Or wanting our child. It had been stupid. Lying to him. He obviously cared for Ash, and the relationship he'd lost, because of me. Where do I start from? How do I fix this mess I have created? How do I even begin to tell Ash that Ryan is his father? "Amber!" I start, heart lurching. I'm about to ask Rachel why she yelled when I get a whiff of burned cake. "Shit!" I curse under my breath, dashing for the oven. Ash giggles, finding this somehow amusing. He laughs every time I forget something. Or do something wrong. There are days I feel like he is more aware than a child should be. Too smart for his age. "Are you good?" Rachel asks, holding up the lid for me as I pull out the burned cake. I scowl at the disaster in front of me. Might have to scrape a lot off before icing it. "Yeah. I'm great. Why wouldn't I be?" I ask, dumping the tray atop the counter to pick up the bread knife. "Why? You burned the muffins and the cookies as well," Rachel says, and her brown eyes soften a little as she adds, "Is it Ash?" Even I don't know the answer to that question at this point. The problem might as well be me. I need to talk to Ryan. I was selfish. I should have considered him as well. I should have told him the truth when he asked. "No. I'm just a little tired. I didn't get enough sleep last night." Not entirely a lie. "Clean it. I'll be right back," I add, wiping my hands with a napkin. I fish out my phone from my apron's pocket and start to dial a number when I realize I do not have Ryan's line. I've got his secretary's though. Throwing caution to the wind, I place her on dial. Mary picks up on the first ring and someone is yelling in the background. I think it might be Ryan. "Hello, Mary. I'd like to speak to Ryan." "Hello, Ms. Jean. The CEO is occupied. If you could book an appointment with him..." "Tell him it's Amber and it can't wait," I say sternly, and the woman pauses at my tone. "He is in a meeting with—' "Mary? Why aren't the documents here yet? Who are you speaking to?" I hear Ryan ask in the background and my heart flips from just hearing his voice, however stern he sounds. "Ms. Jean. She wants to talk to you." There is a slight pause, and I find that my hands have grown clammy from anxiety. "Amber?" he asks. "Yes, sir." "I'm busy," Ryan says coolly, and the rustling of papers in the background begins again. I frown, breaths quickening. That happens when I start to get angry. It becomes hard to breathe and it feels like I'm going to puke if I don't let it out. My throat hurts and tears sting my eyes. "Ms. Jean, I'd suggest you book an appointment to see him tomorrow. His schedule—" "Tell him if he refuses to speak to me, I'm coming over right now," I cut in sharply. The woman pauses again, and though I know I'm putting her in a tough spot, I can't bear this guilt and ache I feel anymore. I have had two days to think about it, and I absolutely hate the way things turned out. I want to fix things—this—but he's not even letting me! "Mary, get the documents," Ryan snaps when she starts to tell me what I said. "And get off the damned phone." She hangs up. I've never been a woman who goes back on her words, and when I make decisions when I'm mad, I stick to them. I'm going to his office. Right now. **** *Ryan* "No. I do not want that there. I already approved the blueprint. I did not approve those changes!" I snap and they all shift uncomfortably in their seats. I've been in this piss poor mood for two days and I can't seem to control my temper. I am livid. I am hurt. "Sir," Mary calls out softly. "What?!" I snap, turning to her. Her eyes are wide with worry and fear. She has never seen me this way. Even I have never been this angry in my entire life. She extends the phone toward me. "Your father's calling." My nostrils flare. "What did I say about calls during meetings, Mary?" I know why he's calling. It's been way more than usual in the past three months. It is why I chose Vermont for this project. Far away from him. Far from home. I have been putting it off for three years. The topic of marriage. For her, I'd rejected every blind date, every arrangement. I had looked for her every day. Waited on her everyday. Seen her face everywhere for three years. And the first thing she does when she sees me is run from me and lie in my face. Hell. I'm losing it. Like thinking about her has me hallucinating again, she suddenly walks in through the glass doors of my office, green eyes filled with ire. Definitely losing it. It's been happening more than usual. Thinking about her has me seeing her everywhere. I look away from the door and turn to my contracted designers. "I want these changed—" "We need to talk, Ryan. Now." I frown. Never in my wildest dreams or imaginations did she speak. I look up from the papers scattered in front of me. Her face is flushed, and there's a smudge of flour on her forehead and some of it got in her hair. She walks over to the edge of the table where I am seated and slams her hand on the table. "I get that you're mad. I get that you're hurt. I'm sorry. I really am, but don't fucking walk away from me again." She barged into my office, disrupted my meeting, half yelled at me, and rather than feel the anger that's been eating me up for days, I am stunned into silence.