I don’t think I give Warren enough credit. He has a job, he goes to school full time, he manages a successful local band, and he manages to keep Bridgette somewhat happy. I guess it’s just his addiction to porn and his inability to clean up after himself that leads me to assume he’s got a lot of growing up to do.
When we’re finished eating, Warren grabs a tray and piles muffins and juices on it, then brings it back to the table. “For Ridge and Bridgette,” he says, covering the muffins with a napkin.
“How often do you come here? You seem to be experienced in the art of breakfast theft.”
“Not very often. I have a few hotels around town that I frequent, but I try to mix it up every now and then. Don’t want the desk clerks becoming suspicious.”
I laugh, sipping the last of my orange juice.
“Ridge has never been on board. You know how he is, always trying to do the right thing. Maggie came with me a few times, though. She liked the thrill of possibly getting caught. She’s actually why I call it fastbreak breakfast. We had to make a break for it once because a clerk walked around, writing down room numbers and checking them to last names.”
I look down when he says Maggie’s name, not wanting to hear how good of friends he is with her. Not that I care if Warren and Maggie are friends. I just don’t want to hear about it. Especially this early in the morning.
He notices my reaction, because he leans forward and folds his arms over the table. He tilts his head in thought. “Our friendship with her really bothers you, huh?”
I shake my head. “Not as much as you probably think. What bothers me is how much Ridge stresses about it.”
“Yeah, well, imagine how much Maggie stresses about it.”
I roll my eyes. I know how much Maggie probably stresses about it. But just because she stresses more than I do doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to stress. “I already told Ridge it’s just going to take me a little time to get used to it.”
Warren laughs under his breath. “Well hurry up and get used to it, because I already told you once that he’ll never leave her.”
I remember that night very clearly. I don’t need Warren to point it out again. It was when Ridge and I were hugging in the hallway. Warren walked inside the apartment and didn’t like what he was seeing, because Ridge was dating Maggie at the time. Ridge didn’t know Warren was in the apartment, but before Warren walked to his room, he made sure I was aware of his thoughts on our predicament. Warren’s exact words were, “I’m only going to say this once and I need you to listen. He will never leave her, Sydney.”
I lean back in my seat, growing defensive like I always do when Warren talks about Ridge and my relationship. He always seems to take it a step too far, even though I feel like I’ve been more than accommodating and understanding when it comes to Ridge’s friendship with Maggie. “You did say that,” I agree. “But you were wrong, because they did break up.”
Warren stands up and begins gathering trash from the table. He shrugs. “They broke up, sure. But I didn’t tell you they’d never break up. I told you he’d never leave her. And he won’t. So maybe instead of trying to convince yourself that you just need time to warm up to the idea of her always being a part of his life, you should remind yourself that you already knew that. Long before you agreed to start a relationship with him.”
I stare at him, dumbfounded, as he walks the trash to the trash can. He comes back to the table and reclaims his seat. I forget what a casual asshole he can be to everyone. I recall his words again, only this time they mean something completely different.
“He will never leave her, Sydney.”
This whole time, I thought Warren was saying Ridge would never break up with her. When all along, Warren just meant that Maggie would always be a part of Ridge’s life.
“You know the one thing that could make this entire situation a little easier?” Warren asks.
I shake my head, unsure about anything anymore.
He looks at me pointedly. “You.”
What?
“Me? How could I make it easier? If you haven’t noticed, I’ve worked really hard to try and have the patience of a freaking saint.”
He nods in agreement. “I’m not talking about your patience,” he says, leaning forward. “You have been patient. But what you haven’t been is apologetic. There’s a girl you seriously wronged, who is a huge part of Ridge’s life. And even though she claims not to blame you, you probably still owe her an apology. Apologies shouldn’t happen because of the response of the person who was wronged. Apologies should happen because of the wrong.” He slaps his hands on the table like the conversation is over and he stands up, grabbing the tray of food he made for Ridge and Bridgett.
My stomach turns at the thought of being face to face with Maggie after everything that has happened. And even though I don’t take any responsibility for all the resentment she and Ridge have been building up toward each other over the years, I do take responsibility for the fact that I was a Tori for a hot minute and never once reached out to her to apologize.
“Come on,” Warren says, pulling me up and out of my stupor. “There are worse things in life than having a boyfriend with a heart the size of an elephant.”
•••
I’m completely silent on the ride home. Warren doesn’t even try to get me to talk. When we get back to Ridge’s apartment, Ridge is still asleep. I write him a note and leave it beside him on the bed.
Didn’t want to wake you because you deserve the sleep. I’ve got a lot of homework to catch up on today, so maybe I can come over tomorrow night after work.
I love you.
Sydney.
I feel bad lying to him, because I’m not going home to do homework. I’m going home to change clothes.
This drive to San Antonio is long overdue.
My mother was a dramatic woman. Everything revolved around her, even when it wasn’t about her. She was the type of person who—when someone close to her would experience something bad in their lives—she would somehow relate it to her own life so that their tragedy could be her tragedy, too. Imagine what having a daughter with Cystic Fibrosis was like for her. It was her moment to soak up the sympathy—to make everyone feel sorry for her and the way her child turned out. My illness became more of a problem for her than it was for me.
But it didn’t last long, because she took a temporary position with her company in Paris, France, when I was three. She left me with my grandparents because it was “too cold” for me there, and it would be “too difficult” learning to navigate a new country with a sick child in tow. My father was never a part of my life, so that wasn’t an option. But my mother always promised she would one day take me back to Paris to live with her.
My grandparents had my mother at a very late age, and my mother had me in her late thirties. It was getting to the point that my grandparents could hardly care for themselves, much less a child. But my mother’s temporary position became permanent, and every year when she would come home to visit, she would promise me she’d take her back with me when the time was right. But her Christmas visits would always end on New Year’s Day, with her leaving to go back to Paris without me.
Maybe she did have intentions of taking me back with her, but after spending two weeks with me at my grandparents’ every year at Christmas, she would be reminded of what a huge responsibility I would be in her life. I used to think it was because she didn’t love me, but I remember the year I turned nine, I figured out that my illness is what she didn’t love about me. It wasn’t me.
I got the idea that if I could just convince her that I could take care of myself and that I didn’t need her help, she would take me with her and we could finally be together. In the weeks leading up to Christmas the year I turned nine, I was extremely cautious. I consumed all the vitamins I could get my hands on so that I wouldn’t catch a cold from my classmates. I used my vest twice as much as I was required to. I made sure I got eight hours of sleep every night. And even though Austin saw its first snow in years that winter, I refused to go outside to experience it because I was afraid I’d catch a cold and end up in the hospital during my mother’s visit.
When we’re finished eating, Warren grabs a tray and piles muffins and juices on it, then brings it back to the table. “For Ridge and Bridgette,” he says, covering the muffins with a napkin.
“How often do you come here? You seem to be experienced in the art of breakfast theft.”
“Not very often. I have a few hotels around town that I frequent, but I try to mix it up every now and then. Don’t want the desk clerks becoming suspicious.”
I laugh, sipping the last of my orange juice.
“Ridge has never been on board. You know how he is, always trying to do the right thing. Maggie came with me a few times, though. She liked the thrill of possibly getting caught. She’s actually why I call it fastbreak breakfast. We had to make a break for it once because a clerk walked around, writing down room numbers and checking them to last names.”
I look down when he says Maggie’s name, not wanting to hear how good of friends he is with her. Not that I care if Warren and Maggie are friends. I just don’t want to hear about it. Especially this early in the morning.
He notices my reaction, because he leans forward and folds his arms over the table. He tilts his head in thought. “Our friendship with her really bothers you, huh?”
I shake my head. “Not as much as you probably think. What bothers me is how much Ridge stresses about it.”
“Yeah, well, imagine how much Maggie stresses about it.”
I roll my eyes. I know how much Maggie probably stresses about it. But just because she stresses more than I do doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to stress. “I already told Ridge it’s just going to take me a little time to get used to it.”
Warren laughs under his breath. “Well hurry up and get used to it, because I already told you once that he’ll never leave her.”
I remember that night very clearly. I don’t need Warren to point it out again. It was when Ridge and I were hugging in the hallway. Warren walked inside the apartment and didn’t like what he was seeing, because Ridge was dating Maggie at the time. Ridge didn’t know Warren was in the apartment, but before Warren walked to his room, he made sure I was aware of his thoughts on our predicament. Warren’s exact words were, “I’m only going to say this once and I need you to listen. He will never leave her, Sydney.”
I lean back in my seat, growing defensive like I always do when Warren talks about Ridge and my relationship. He always seems to take it a step too far, even though I feel like I’ve been more than accommodating and understanding when it comes to Ridge’s friendship with Maggie. “You did say that,” I agree. “But you were wrong, because they did break up.”
Warren stands up and begins gathering trash from the table. He shrugs. “They broke up, sure. But I didn’t tell you they’d never break up. I told you he’d never leave her. And he won’t. So maybe instead of trying to convince yourself that you just need time to warm up to the idea of her always being a part of his life, you should remind yourself that you already knew that. Long before you agreed to start a relationship with him.”
I stare at him, dumbfounded, as he walks the trash to the trash can. He comes back to the table and reclaims his seat. I forget what a casual asshole he can be to everyone. I recall his words again, only this time they mean something completely different.
“He will never leave her, Sydney.”
This whole time, I thought Warren was saying Ridge would never break up with her. When all along, Warren just meant that Maggie would always be a part of Ridge’s life.
“You know the one thing that could make this entire situation a little easier?” Warren asks.
I shake my head, unsure about anything anymore.
He looks at me pointedly. “You.”
What?
“Me? How could I make it easier? If you haven’t noticed, I’ve worked really hard to try and have the patience of a freaking saint.”
He nods in agreement. “I’m not talking about your patience,” he says, leaning forward. “You have been patient. But what you haven’t been is apologetic. There’s a girl you seriously wronged, who is a huge part of Ridge’s life. And even though she claims not to blame you, you probably still owe her an apology. Apologies shouldn’t happen because of the response of the person who was wronged. Apologies should happen because of the wrong.” He slaps his hands on the table like the conversation is over and he stands up, grabbing the tray of food he made for Ridge and Bridgett.
My stomach turns at the thought of being face to face with Maggie after everything that has happened. And even though I don’t take any responsibility for all the resentment she and Ridge have been building up toward each other over the years, I do take responsibility for the fact that I was a Tori for a hot minute and never once reached out to her to apologize.
“Come on,” Warren says, pulling me up and out of my stupor. “There are worse things in life than having a boyfriend with a heart the size of an elephant.”
•••
I’m completely silent on the ride home. Warren doesn’t even try to get me to talk. When we get back to Ridge’s apartment, Ridge is still asleep. I write him a note and leave it beside him on the bed.
Didn’t want to wake you because you deserve the sleep. I’ve got a lot of homework to catch up on today, so maybe I can come over tomorrow night after work.
I love you.
Sydney.
I feel bad lying to him, because I’m not going home to do homework. I’m going home to change clothes.
This drive to San Antonio is long overdue.
My mother was a dramatic woman. Everything revolved around her, even when it wasn’t about her. She was the type of person who—when someone close to her would experience something bad in their lives—she would somehow relate it to her own life so that their tragedy could be her tragedy, too. Imagine what having a daughter with Cystic Fibrosis was like for her. It was her moment to soak up the sympathy—to make everyone feel sorry for her and the way her child turned out. My illness became more of a problem for her than it was for me.
But it didn’t last long, because she took a temporary position with her company in Paris, France, when I was three. She left me with my grandparents because it was “too cold” for me there, and it would be “too difficult” learning to navigate a new country with a sick child in tow. My father was never a part of my life, so that wasn’t an option. But my mother always promised she would one day take me back to Paris to live with her.
My grandparents had my mother at a very late age, and my mother had me in her late thirties. It was getting to the point that my grandparents could hardly care for themselves, much less a child. But my mother’s temporary position became permanent, and every year when she would come home to visit, she would promise me she’d take her back with me when the time was right. But her Christmas visits would always end on New Year’s Day, with her leaving to go back to Paris without me.
Maybe she did have intentions of taking me back with her, but after spending two weeks with me at my grandparents’ every year at Christmas, she would be reminded of what a huge responsibility I would be in her life. I used to think it was because she didn’t love me, but I remember the year I turned nine, I figured out that my illness is what she didn’t love about me. It wasn’t me.
I got the idea that if I could just convince her that I could take care of myself and that I didn’t need her help, she would take me with her and we could finally be together. In the weeks leading up to Christmas the year I turned nine, I was extremely cautious. I consumed all the vitamins I could get my hands on so that I wouldn’t catch a cold from my classmates. I used my vest twice as much as I was required to. I made sure I got eight hours of sleep every night. And even though Austin saw its first snow in years that winter, I refused to go outside to experience it because I was afraid I’d catch a cold and end up in the hospital during my mother’s visit.
