Kyle became awfully quiet.

“Hey, I remember what I wanted to ask you!” I blurted out. “Where is that corner deli where you got that chicken soup?”

“Did you like it?” Kyle asked, grinning at me.

“Oh yeah! It was delicious! You’ll have to give me directions to that place.”

He started to tell me what roads to take but after the fifth turn I lost him. I was quite buzzed after that last shot.

“Can’t you write it down for me? I’ll never remember,” I whined.

“You have a pen?” he asked.

I returned with paper and a pen and two more bottles of beer. Kyle started writing directions.

“You’re a lefty, huh?” I teased, noticing he wrote with his left hand.

Kyle smiled at the paper.

“Did you know that I can write with my left hand?” I taunted. I pulled on the edge of the paper to mess with him while he was writing. “Yep, I’m ambidextrous. What do you think about that?” I tugged on the paper again.

He was grinning as he kept on writing. “I think we have yet another thing in common.”

“No way! You are not!” I took a sip of my beer, waiting for him to confirm. He annoyingly kept silent.

As soon as Kyle finished writing, I slipped the paper out from under his hand. He tried to stop me from taking it but he wasn’t quick enough.

In an instant his whole demeanor changed. We were just having a fun time teasing each other, but now he seemed agitated.

Kyle looked at his watch and quickly downed the last of his beer. “I’ve got to go,” he muttered and slid out of the booth.

I was completely confused by his abrupt departure.

“Well, thanks for the stuff.” I patted the paper bag.

He was obviously distracted by other thoughts as he put his leather jacket on.

“I’ll see you later. Get some rest,” he ordered.

I watched as Kyle ran his hand through his hair on the way out the door. Marie and Tammy were staring at me, giving me the disapproving look that I spent too much time with Kyle.

Feeling guilty, I immediately went back upstairs and called Ryan.

“I still think you could make it,” Ryan whined in my ear. “I’m sure there’s an open seat on a flight.”

I looked at the yellowish-brown marks that still covered my cheek through my slightly drunken eyes, thinking that no amount of makeup would ever conceal them. I was glad that we had finally moved on from the umpteenth Kyle argument.

“Ryan, I asked my doctor. He doesn’t want me to fly for another two weeks. Besides, my face is still black and blue or more like yellow and brown now. You can’t be photographed with me looking like this.”

“I don’t care about that,” he breathed. “But if the doctor is the one saying no, then I understand why you can’t.”

“Honey, I want to be there too, but a trip to L.A. isn’t possible right now. I still have some pain in my ribs.

I’m planning on watching the Oscars on television. I wouldn’t miss your presentation for anything.”

“I fly tomorrow and then I have a rehearsal so I don’t mess up my lines. I’m really nervous,” he admitted.

“You’ll do just fine. You’re a pro at this!” I tried to encourage him.

“This schedule is crazy. I leave out of LAX at nine the next morning. And then I’m scheduled to do some scenes later that night back in Miami,” he groaned.

“No rest for the weary,” I stated.

“Tar, would you try to come down here in two weeks? Please? Since I can’t see you this weekend at least come down to Miami. I have something very special in mind for your birthday.”

“Don’t go overboard. It’s just another day,” I groaned. “Seeing you will be more than enough.”

“Nevermind what I plan,” he whispered. “I’ll get arrangements made for you to fly down here and I’m going to make sure you make it safely to the airport this time, so don’t give me any shit about a bodyguard, okay?”

“All I need is for you to hold me,” I said.

“Yeah, me too,” Ryan whispered.

“Why are you talking so quietly? Is someone there with you?” I asked.

“No. Hang on,” he said. “Hey, I’m gonna get going. I um, ordered room service and they’re here.”

I thought I heard a woman’s voice speaking in the background and what sounded like Ryan shushing her.

“Okay, well I guess I’ll talk to you later then,” I muttered. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” he whispered quickly. The phone clicked abruptly. Ryan didn’t even say goodbye.

The phone call I had with Ryan was still playing over and over again in my mind the next day. I knew he was flying to L.A. and he had a lot of things to do, but it still surprised me that he didn’t try calling me. It was out of character for him.

I called him the following day, bothered that I didn’t hear from him. I tried to keep my annoyance out of my tone and kept my voice light and happy. Ryan was moody. He said it was because he was being rushed from place to place. He was also getting dressed for the Oscars.

Later that evening I perched myself in front of the television to watch the Academy Awards. Ryan looked so handsome on the red carpet as he gave his interview. Of course, he was asked if he was there with anyone and his reply was, “No, I don’t have a date!”

Date? How about your “one and only” girlfriend is still recuperating from her near-death experience? I grunted in anger. There was no private gesture to acknowledge he was thinking of me. I was still a secret he would never admit to out loud.

Several days later, we had another argument.

“Honey, why are there pictures of you hugging and holding Lauren’s hand on the Internet?” I asked gently.

Ryan huffed in my ear.

“Taryn, you fucking promised me,” he growled angrily.

“It’s a simple question, Ryan. I don’t hold Pete’s hand or Gary’s hand – ever. I just want to know why you felt the need to tow her along through some Oscar after party.”

“She was drunk. I didn’t want her to make an ass out of herself while she was out in public,” Ryan defensively answered.

Flashbacks of me asking Thomas similar questions coated my thoughts. Thomas always had a valid excuse too:

“Her car broke down and I couldn’t just leave her stranded so I gave her a ride home and then we just got to talking...”