“No. Not this time. I’m done, Taryn. All I ever wanted to do was make movies but all that brings is fucking pain. No more. When we return to the States, I’m announcing my retirement.”
I looked into his eyes again, not sure if he was actually serious. “Ryan, you love being an actor. It’s what you do.” He kissed my lips, then rested his forehead against mine. “Not anymore.”
Ryan wasn’t kidding. After we’d returned to the States, he canceled all public appearances, turned down all requests for magazine cover shoots, interviews—everything. He was contractually bound to promote the final Seaside movie but that was it.
Trish and I had talked him out of making any formal public statements about being retired, arguing that it would only bring more attention. That was something Ryan definitely didn’t want, especially since we had to settle out of court with the photographer he’d punched.
Instead, he devoted himself to building our house—to the point where we practically moved into my pappy’s fishing cabin so we could closely monitor the progress on our adjoining land.
Marie had taken an assignment with Mike in ll.A., working private security for a young actor who’d been plagued by an unwanted stalker. She was traveling so much, it was hard to keep up with her, and I missed my best friend. But I also knew she had a job to do; making chitchatty cell calls while protecting someone was frowned upon and could get you killed.
Ryan’s entire celebrity life had ground down to a halt. After a few weeks of the media wondering where he’d disappeared to, other celebrities and their antics took over the front page and Ryan slipped off the radar.
Well, that was until he went grocery shopping with me and was recognized. He’d even grown a light goatee to disguise himself. It didn’t work.
One evening, when I was finally able to talk about the white powder incident again, Ryan had built a nice fire in the fireplace and we curled up on the floor to make a list of suspects.
My money was on Nicole Devin. Lauren had brought her on the European press junket and both of them were always sniffing.
Kyle was also in Rome, but he wasn’t on the top of my list. He’d pretty much ignored me while he hit on the leggy redhead who gave me the envelope and she seemed more than receptive to his charms. But he did have motive and opportunity.
Marla Sullivan was also a suspect to consider. But even though that nasally bitch would probably get her kicks seeing Ryan fall from grace, she didn’t strike me as the type who’d solicit someone to get her cocaine.
And then there was David. Bitter, jaded, asshole David. Ryan had fired him officially in Rome, making sure the weasel knew in no uncertain terms that he’d been terminated.
He’d flown off the handle when Ryan had called Aaron, his agent, to make sure the message was passed through the ranks. After that, David spent quite a bit of time scowling at us and bending Marla’s ear, so imagining
that those two got together and plotted against us wasn’t too far-fetched.
There were quite a few others that had been on the press tour, but we’d quickly eliminated everyone who had no motive.
But we didn’t make any progress, other than making a short list of people we wanted absolutely nothing to do with ever again. We also had the satisfaction of knowing that whoever did try to set us up had failed miserably.
Despite all the things keeping Ryan busy, I could tell he was unhappy. The sadness was always there, itching like a scab that just wouldn’t heal. I was starting to feel guilty, as if he’d given up acting for me.
As much as I enjoyed being out of the spotlight, I knew in my heart that Ryan wouldn’t be satisfied with life if he didn’t act.
It was in his blood.
It was what he excelled at beyond all other things.
In front of the camera was where he belonged.
Ryan wasn’t living; he was existing. He was doing everything possible to avoid admitting that he was miserable not working.
He didn’t need to say it; I could read him well enough to know exactly what plagued him.
We had set October 20 as our wedding date, taking Mike’s advice and getting married in the Maldives. I didn’t care where we got married; as long as we had a beachside villa to snuggle in, I’d be content.
But as much as I wanted to marry Ryan, I couldn’t. Not like this.
I needed him whole before he committed to me and he was anything but whole right now.
That light that used to dance in his eyes was gone.
His spirit was broken and it tore me apart.
I had convinced Ryan to return to Seaport with me under the guise that I had business in the bar to attend to, but really I needed a strong Wi-Fi connection, which was nonex-istent at the cabin. I knew exactly what I wanted to get Ryan for a wedding gift, but I needed time to execute my plan.