Maybe Now (Maybe #2)(43)

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.