I had so much fun last night.
I ate Bridgette’s disgusting pizza and then she told me all about how she and Warren started dating. That only solidified my opinion of their weirdness. Then we watched Justice League and fast forwarded through all the parts Jason Momoa wasn’t in.
I don’t remember much after that because we were several bottles of wine in. My sleep and my fun were both cut abruptly short today when Bridgette shook me awake and shoved Maggie’s Instagram post in my face.
I’m more hurt than angry. I’m sure Ridge will have an excuse. He always does. But what’s Maggie’s excuse? I know, in a sense, I’m the other woman who came between them. I was the Tori in that situation. But I honestly thought we were all beyond that. From the way Warren and Ridge made it sound, she took it well and was even mature about it. But this feels so…petty. Gross, even.
I couldn’t stand being in Ridge’s apartment after seeing her post. The way I felt reminded me of the stark and pitiful misery I went through while I lived there. And the entire place smelled like pepperoni and anchovies. I told Bridgette I was going back to my place, and she went to her room to grab her stuff and told me she was going with me.
I think she might be just as upset as I am, because she brought another bottle of wine with her, and now we’re drinking again and it’s barely two o’clock in the afternoon. But I don’t mind that she’s here. I actually prefer it, because I really don’t want to be alone right now or I’ll over-analyze this entire situation and come up with far-fetched reasons for him being on that bed before he can even explain himself.
Bridgette is sitting cross-legged on my bed. She reaches to the floor and grabs her purse, pulling her phone out of it. “That’s it. I can’t take it. I’m commenting on her Instagram post.”
I try to pull her phone away. “Don’t. I don’t even want her to know I saw it. It’ll serve her purpose.”
Bridgette rolls onto her stomach to protect her phone from me. “That’s why I said I’ll comment. I’ll say something to make her feel as insecure as
she’s trying to make you feel. I’ll tell her she looks healthy. Everyone knows when you tell someone they look healthy, it really means fat.”
“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.
“Look,” Warren says, throwing his hands up in the air. “Ridge and Maggie were way overdue for a conversation about this. I wasn’t doing it to be malicious. I was trying to be helpful!”
“Yeah, sounds like the entire trip was a success,” I say.
Warren shrugs, placing his hands on his hips. “There may not be a resolution yet, but Maggie needed to hear everything Ridge had to say. In fact, I think you’d be proud of him. After last night and everything he said to defend you, there isn’t a doubt in my mind that he’s one hundred percent aboard the Sydney train.”
I fold my arms over my chest. “You mean you had doubts before last night?”
Warren looks up at the ceiling. “Not what I meant.” He looks at Bridgette, and I can tell he’s done with this day already. “Let’s go. They need privacy. So do we.”
Bridgette pulls out a chair at the bar and takes a seat. “No. I’m not finished with my wine.”
Warren walks to the counter and grabs the bottle of wine. Then he takes her glass out of her hands and walks out the front door with it. Bridgette looks at the door and then at me. Then at the door and then at me again. Her eyes are full of panic. She points helplessly at the door. “Wine.”
“Go,” I say, walking around Ridge, toward the door.
She rushes to the door and I shut it behind her. When I turn back around, Ridge is leaning his head against the refrigerator, staring at me. I sigh and stare back at him, hating how tired he looks. As irritated as I am at Warren, I’m relieved he explained everything. I’m not as angry at Ridge.
Ridge pulls his phone out and starts to text me. I go to my room and get my phone and then head back to the kitchen as I read his text.
Ridge: I have no idea what’s been happening for the last ten minutes. No one signed a single word of any of that and it’s really hard to read lips when people are angry and moving around.
My shoulders drop when I read his text. I feel bad that we all just excluded him while we argued around him.
Sydney: To sum it up, Warren said you were innocent and he was guilty and Maggie was bitter and it was just a huge cluster-fuck of a slumber party.
Ridge reads the texts and then shrugs a shoulder.
Ridge: No matter the reason, I shouldn’t have been on Maggie’s bed without thinking about how that would make you feel. But for the record, I fell asleep during her treatment and then moved to the couch as soon as I woke up.
Sydney: Well, it wasn’t soon enough. Because it bit you right in the ass.
Ridge: Whoever said Karma is a bitch must have never met her. Because Karma is very friendly and she follows me around everywhere I go. Everywhere. All the time.
I smile, but Ridge just looks so sad. I hate that we’re in the position to have to make up after another argument, and we haven’t even been together a week. I hope this isn’t any indication of how the rest of our relationship is going to go. Of course, the first argument was all his fault and he was being a tool. But this one…
I don’t know. From what I gathered through Warren’s explanation, Ridge really is making a huge attempt at putting me first. It’s just hard when there are so many obstacles. Oh, man. Did I just refer to Maggie as an obstacle? She’s not an obstacle. Her recent behavior is the obstacle.
Ridge: Can I please kiss you? I need to. So bad.
I smile a little as I read his text. He must see it because he doesn’t even wait for me to look up and answer him. He just rushes toward me and lifts my face and then presses his mouth firmly to mine. He kisses me like he’s starved for me. It’s my favorite kind of kiss from him. It’s so desperate and mostly one-sided from him that the strength behind his kiss ends up forcing me backward. He continues kissing me until my back is against the living room wall. But as desperate as it is, it’s not a sensual kiss. It’s just full of need. A need to feel me and know I’m not upset. A need for reassurance. A need for forgiveness.
After a good minute of him kissing me, he presses his forehead to mine. Still, even after I’ve let him kiss me, he seems distraught. I slide my hand up to his cheek and brush my thumb across it, bringing his eyes to mine.
“Are you okay?”
He inhales and then slowly exhales. He nods unconvincingly and then pulls me against him. I barely have time to wrap my arms around him when he bends down and slides an arm behind my knees and lifts me up. He carries me to the bedroom and lowers me to the bed.
Whatever is still bothering him can wait, because his mouth is on mine again. But this time his kiss isn’t a need for my reassurance. It’s just a need
for me. He pulls his shirt over his head and then stands up and slides off my pajama bottoms. Then he’s over me again, his tongue in my mouth, his hand sliding up my thigh, lifting my leg.
I want to hear him. Since the moment I described how hot his noises were last night, I’ve been craving them all. I unzip his jeans and slip my hand inside, pulling him out and guiding him inside of me.
His mouth is against my neck when I get his groan. It rumbles up his chest as he pushes into me, and then he sighs, softly, as he pulls out. He repeats the rhythm and I close my eyes. The entire time he makes love to me, I remain quiet and listen to the sensual sounds of Ridge.
