“You can’t say that to someone who is actually sick. And really skinny.”
Bridgette groans and then rolls onto her back, tossing her phone aside. “She deleted it! Dammit!”
Thank God. I appreciate Bridgette’s support, but I really don’t need her wedging herself into mine and Ridge’s—and Maggie’s—issues.
“You want me to call Warren and ask him what happened?” Bridgette almost sounds giddy. She would be one to thrive on drama.
And I’m not gonna lie. I’ve thought about calling Warren myself because I have so many questions. I know they’re driving back right now and Ridge will probably come over and try to explain himself, but it would be nice to be a little enlightened beforehand so I know exactly how much and how loud I should yell at him when he arrives. Not that the decibel of my voice will matter in our argument, but it might make me feel better to scream at him.
Bridgette calls Warren and puts the phone on speaker.
“Hey, Babe,” he says as he answers.
“So, what the fuck happened last night?” Bridgette says.
Yeah, she doesn’t know how to do anything with tact. Warren clears his throat, but before he starts speaking, I interrupt him.
“Are you signing this conversation for Ridge? I really don’t want to talk to him right now.”
“I’m driving,” Warren says. “Kind of hard for me to drive, hold my phone, eat this cheeseburger and sign everything I’m saying. Besides, he’s staring out the passenger window, brooding.”
Bridgette leans toward the phone. “Sydney and Ridge’s relationship is in jeopardy, yet you guys had time to stop for burgers?”
“I stopped for a burger. Ridge won’t eat until all is right in the world of Ridney.”
I roll my eyes. “Well, then, he’s gonna be really hungry by tonight.”
“He didn’t do anything wrong, Sydney,” Warren says. “I swear. That was all Maggie.”
“He was asleep on her bed!” Bridgette says.
“Yeah, because he spent two hours repairing the generator to her vest and then had to hold the cord so she could use it. He didn’t sleep all night and when he finally did get a few hours of sleep, Maggie took a picture of him and went and pulled some really shady shit. I’m telling you, it was all Maggie. I’ve never seen her like this.”
I glance up at Bridgette. I don’t know if I can trust Warren. As if she can sense what I’m thinking, she says, “We’re not stupid, Warren. Bros before hos. You would defend Ridge even if he murdered you.”
“Hold on,” Warren says. “I need to take a drink.”
Bridgette and I wait and listen as he slurps down a drink. I fall back onto my bed, frustrated with Warren. With Ridge. With Maggie. But for once, I’m not at all frustrated with Bridgette.
“Okay,” Warren says. “Here’s what happened. After we left the hospital and got back to Maggie’s house last night, it was an entire hour of them screaming at each other. It’s like they both released years of aggression all at once, and there were so many insults coming from both sides. All of the—”
“Wait,” Bridgette says. “Now I know for a fact you’re lying.”
“I’m not lying!” Warren says defensively.
“You said they were screaming at each other. Ridge can’t scream, you idiot.”
I press my hand to my forehead. “It’s sort of a figure of speech in this situation, Bridgette. He was angry and he was signing. Warren refers to it as screaming.” Bridgette shoots me a look of suspicion, like she still doesn’t trust what Warren is saying. I give my attention back to the phone. “Why were they fighting?”
“Why weren’t they fighting? Ridge was mad because he was there and she wasn’t even that sick. He was mad she isn’t taking her health seriously, and it’s starting to inconvenience those around her. She was mad because he brought up the fact that she was inconveniencing you and was putting a strain on your relationship with Ridge. I’m telling you, I’ve never seen them like this. And it wasn’t the kind of fighting that me and Bridgette do, where we’re just trying to get under each other’s skin. This was legit—I’m fucking angry at you—fighting.”
I close my eyes, hating the entire situation. I’m not pleased that they’re fighting. That’s helping no one. But it does explain why she posted that picture. It wasn’t to get back at me. She was pissed at Ridge, and her best form of revenge on him is to involve me.
“And then they both got mad at me,” he says. “All the yelling caused her to start vomiting, and then Ridge made her wear her vest, and he fell asleep on her bed during one of her treatments. As soon as he woke up, he went to the couch and slept for four hours until I woke him up and InstaGate happened. And that’s the whole story.”
I kick my legs on the mattress. “Ugh! I don’t know who to be mad at! I just need to be mad at someone!”
Bridgette points to the phone and whispers, “Be mad at Warren. It’s a great stress reliever.” She raises her voice so he can hear her. “Why did they get mad at you?”
“Not important,” Warren says. “We’re pulling up to your apartment right now, Sydney. Let us in.”
He ends the call, and I don’t even know if I feel any better. I never thought Ridge was in Maggie’s bed because he was cheating on me. I knew he probably had a valid excuse related to her health. But why couldn’t they have been on the couch together, instead? Or the floor? Why did he have to fall asleep in a place where they’ve probably been intimate with each other for years?
I stand up. “I need more wine.”
“Yep, yep. Wine,” Bridgette says, following me to my kitchen.
When Ridge and Warren finally make it inside, I’ve just downed my second glass for the day. Warren walks in first, and then Ridge walks in. I hate how Ridge frantically searches for me and then looks relieved when he sees me. I just want to stay mad at him, but he makes it so hard with those kissable lips and apologetic eyes.
I know what I’ll do. I just won’t look at him. That way I won’t succumb so easily to my forgiveness. I spin around so that I can’t see Ridge or the door. I can only see Warren as he tries to hug Bridgette, but she pushes against his forehead.
Turning my back on Ridge doesn’t do me any good, because he walks up behind me and wraps his arms around me, tucking his face into the space between my neck and shoulder. He kisses me softly on the neck and keeps his arms wrapped around me, apologizing without words.
I don’t accept this apology. I’m still mad, so I remain stiff and don’t react to his touch. Externally, anyway. Internally, I just combusted.
Bridgette downs the rest of her wine, then gives her attention to Warren. “Why were Ridge and Maggie mad at you?”
I want to hear Warren’s answer, but Ridge releases me, turning me so that I’m face to face with him. He slides his hands to my cheeks and looks at me very seriously. “I’m sorry.”
I shrug. “Still hurts.”
Warren ignores Bridgette’s question and walks toward me and Ridge. I glance over Ridge’s shoulder as Warren touches his chest, looking somewhat guilty. “It was mostly my fault, Sydney. I’m really sorry.”
“Figures,” Bridgette says, walking to the kitchen for more wine. She walks right between Ridge and me, separating us completely. “Just spill it, Warren.”
Warren squeezes the back of his neck with his hand as he winces. “Well. Funny story…”
“I bet it’s a riot,” Bridgette deadpans.
Warren ignores her and continues. “I might have exaggerated about the phone call with Maggie. She wasn’t crying, and she technically didn’t beg us to come. I just knew if I didn’t stretch the truth a little, Ridge wouldn’t have gone.”
Bridgette’s mouth drops open. She makes a shocked sound and then looks at me, then back at Warren. “You wanted a sleepover with your ex-girlfriend so you lied to everyone?”
“You’re such an asshole, Warren,” I say. Why would he lie and put Ridge in that situation yesterday? God, I am so angry at him. It feels good to finally have a solid target for my anger.
Bridgette groans and then rolls onto her back, tossing her phone aside. “She deleted it! Dammit!”
Thank God. I appreciate Bridgette’s support, but I really don’t need her wedging herself into mine and Ridge’s—and Maggie’s—issues.
“You want me to call Warren and ask him what happened?” Bridgette almost sounds giddy. She would be one to thrive on drama.
And I’m not gonna lie. I’ve thought about calling Warren myself because I have so many questions. I know they’re driving back right now and Ridge will probably come over and try to explain himself, but it would be nice to be a little enlightened beforehand so I know exactly how much and how loud I should yell at him when he arrives. Not that the decibel of my voice will matter in our argument, but it might make me feel better to scream at him.
Bridgette calls Warren and puts the phone on speaker.
“Hey, Babe,” he says as he answers.
“So, what the fuck happened last night?” Bridgette says.
Yeah, she doesn’t know how to do anything with tact. Warren clears his throat, but before he starts speaking, I interrupt him.
“Are you signing this conversation for Ridge? I really don’t want to talk to him right now.”
“I’m driving,” Warren says. “Kind of hard for me to drive, hold my phone, eat this cheeseburger and sign everything I’m saying. Besides, he’s staring out the passenger window, brooding.”
Bridgette leans toward the phone. “Sydney and Ridge’s relationship is in jeopardy, yet you guys had time to stop for burgers?”
“I stopped for a burger. Ridge won’t eat until all is right in the world of Ridney.”
I roll my eyes. “Well, then, he’s gonna be really hungry by tonight.”
“He didn’t do anything wrong, Sydney,” Warren says. “I swear. That was all Maggie.”
“He was asleep on her bed!” Bridgette says.
“Yeah, because he spent two hours repairing the generator to her vest and then had to hold the cord so she could use it. He didn’t sleep all night and when he finally did get a few hours of sleep, Maggie took a picture of him and went and pulled some really shady shit. I’m telling you, it was all Maggie. I’ve never seen her like this.”
I glance up at Bridgette. I don’t know if I can trust Warren. As if she can sense what I’m thinking, she says, “We’re not stupid, Warren. Bros before hos. You would defend Ridge even if he murdered you.”
“Hold on,” Warren says. “I need to take a drink.”
Bridgette and I wait and listen as he slurps down a drink. I fall back onto my bed, frustrated with Warren. With Ridge. With Maggie. But for once, I’m not at all frustrated with Bridgette.
“Okay,” Warren says. “Here’s what happened. After we left the hospital and got back to Maggie’s house last night, it was an entire hour of them screaming at each other. It’s like they both released years of aggression all at once, and there were so many insults coming from both sides. All of the—”
“Wait,” Bridgette says. “Now I know for a fact you’re lying.”
“I’m not lying!” Warren says defensively.
“You said they were screaming at each other. Ridge can’t scream, you idiot.”
I press my hand to my forehead. “It’s sort of a figure of speech in this situation, Bridgette. He was angry and he was signing. Warren refers to it as screaming.” Bridgette shoots me a look of suspicion, like she still doesn’t trust what Warren is saying. I give my attention back to the phone. “Why were they fighting?”
“Why weren’t they fighting? Ridge was mad because he was there and she wasn’t even that sick. He was mad she isn’t taking her health seriously, and it’s starting to inconvenience those around her. She was mad because he brought up the fact that she was inconveniencing you and was putting a strain on your relationship with Ridge. I’m telling you, I’ve never seen them like this. And it wasn’t the kind of fighting that me and Bridgette do, where we’re just trying to get under each other’s skin. This was legit—I’m fucking angry at you—fighting.”
I close my eyes, hating the entire situation. I’m not pleased that they’re fighting. That’s helping no one. But it does explain why she posted that picture. It wasn’t to get back at me. She was pissed at Ridge, and her best form of revenge on him is to involve me.
“And then they both got mad at me,” he says. “All the yelling caused her to start vomiting, and then Ridge made her wear her vest, and he fell asleep on her bed during one of her treatments. As soon as he woke up, he went to the couch and slept for four hours until I woke him up and InstaGate happened. And that’s the whole story.”
I kick my legs on the mattress. “Ugh! I don’t know who to be mad at! I just need to be mad at someone!”
Bridgette points to the phone and whispers, “Be mad at Warren. It’s a great stress reliever.” She raises her voice so he can hear her. “Why did they get mad at you?”
“Not important,” Warren says. “We’re pulling up to your apartment right now, Sydney. Let us in.”
He ends the call, and I don’t even know if I feel any better. I never thought Ridge was in Maggie’s bed because he was cheating on me. I knew he probably had a valid excuse related to her health. But why couldn’t they have been on the couch together, instead? Or the floor? Why did he have to fall asleep in a place where they’ve probably been intimate with each other for years?
I stand up. “I need more wine.”
“Yep, yep. Wine,” Bridgette says, following me to my kitchen.
When Ridge and Warren finally make it inside, I’ve just downed my second glass for the day. Warren walks in first, and then Ridge walks in. I hate how Ridge frantically searches for me and then looks relieved when he sees me. I just want to stay mad at him, but he makes it so hard with those kissable lips and apologetic eyes.
I know what I’ll do. I just won’t look at him. That way I won’t succumb so easily to my forgiveness. I spin around so that I can’t see Ridge or the door. I can only see Warren as he tries to hug Bridgette, but she pushes against his forehead.
Turning my back on Ridge doesn’t do me any good, because he walks up behind me and wraps his arms around me, tucking his face into the space between my neck and shoulder. He kisses me softly on the neck and keeps his arms wrapped around me, apologizing without words.
I don’t accept this apology. I’m still mad, so I remain stiff and don’t react to his touch. Externally, anyway. Internally, I just combusted.
Bridgette downs the rest of her wine, then gives her attention to Warren. “Why were Ridge and Maggie mad at you?”
I want to hear Warren’s answer, but Ridge releases me, turning me so that I’m face to face with him. He slides his hands to my cheeks and looks at me very seriously. “I’m sorry.”
I shrug. “Still hurts.”
Warren ignores Bridgette’s question and walks toward me and Ridge. I glance over Ridge’s shoulder as Warren touches his chest, looking somewhat guilty. “It was mostly my fault, Sydney. I’m really sorry.”
“Figures,” Bridgette says, walking to the kitchen for more wine. She walks right between Ridge and me, separating us completely. “Just spill it, Warren.”
Warren squeezes the back of his neck with his hand as he winces. “Well. Funny story…”
“I bet it’s a riot,” Bridgette deadpans.
Warren ignores her and continues. “I might have exaggerated about the phone call with Maggie. She wasn’t crying, and she technically didn’t beg us to come. I just knew if I didn’t stretch the truth a little, Ridge wouldn’t have gone.”
Bridgette’s mouth drops open. She makes a shocked sound and then looks at me, then back at Warren. “You wanted a sleepover with your ex-girlfriend so you lied to everyone?”
“You’re such an asshole, Warren,” I say. Why would he lie and put Ridge in that situation yesterday? God, I am so angry at him. It feels good to finally have a solid target for my anger.
