A Hand to Hold

Chapter thirty-seven (part 2)

~ Natalie

*

Lazy days did not ordinarily come naturally to me. But on holidays, I reveled in having no schedule. In the den, I sipped hot coffee from a Christmas mug and pulled the cozy blanket tighter around my body. Christmas music played through the television, and I smiled in contentment over what was turning out to be a delightful holiday— apart from the slightly unpleasant discussion about Grant.

*

A few moments later, Ronan reappeared carrying his own steaming cup of coffee. I giggled at the sight of him still wearing the scarf I’d made over his unfastened robe. “What are you laughing at?” he asked, smiling.

“You. In that scarf.”

“Hey, my wife made this, and I’ll not have you mocking it.”

“I’m not, only that you insist on wearing it without a shirt.”

“I opted out of a shirt this morning for your benefit. I know you like my tattoos. Don’t you, baby?” I didn’t answer, only blushed and hid my face behind my mug, making him chuckle.

*

Ronan’s phone rang before he had the chance to thoroughly tease me. When I heard him answer, my skin started to crawl. “Good morning, Cynthia,” he said into the phone. I immediately heard her high-pitched whine on the other side. “Whoa, Cynthia, slow down,” Ronan urged. “Start from the beginning. What happened?”

*

Ronan set his mug on the coffee table and walked around the room. I recognized this habit from working with him. When he was in full concentration mode on the phone, he couldn’t sit still. Unfortunately, I was no longer close enough to hear what Cynthia was saying.

*

“Were you home when it happened?” Ronan asked Cynthia in concern. “I see, and you’re there now?” He listened to her answer and replied. “No, don’t do that. Don’t go anywhere; I’m on my way. It’ll be okay, Cyn.” He wasn’t seriously about to ditch me for another woman on our first Christmas together. Was he? What kind of problem did she have that only Ronan could solve?

*

“What’s wrong?” I asked once he’d hung up the phone.

“Someone broke into Cynthia’s condo,” he informed me. “Fortunately, due to the holiday, she was with her parents when it happened. But her place is trashed, and she’s frantic. I’m going to go calm her down and help her file a police report.” He was already heading out of the room before I could process my bewilderment.

*

Three minutes later, Ronan came down the stairs, fully dressed in jeans and a cream sweater. “I don’t understand,” I told him as he slid his phone and wallet into his back pockets. “Doesn’t Cynthia have a boyfriend she can call?”

“You mean Justin? I don’t think they’re that serious.”

“I just don’t see why she needs you.” He shrugged and replied, “We’ve been friends for years.”

*

When Ronan headed for the garage door, I followed him into the kitchen. “Isn’t she with her dad?” I asked. “Why can’t he help her?” He plucked his keys off the rack on the wall before facing me. Having heard the irritation in my voice, he asked, “Do you not want me to go?”

“No, I don’t,” I answered directly. “How can you not see what she’s doing?”

“What is she doing?” The man really was clueless when it came to Cynthia.

*

I probably should’ve approached the topic more delicately… but I didn’t. Instead, I blurted out, “She’s manipulating you.”

“Manipulating me?” Ronan repeated in disbelief.

“Yes, Ronan. She knows just how to yank your chain to make you come running.” His defensive look made me feel like I was in free fall.

*

“Let me get this straight,” Ronan said incredulously. “You think she staged a break-in to her own home in the hopes that I’d come to her rescue? Do you hear how ridiculous that sounds?”

“No, but I do think she is using the unfortunate situation to her advantage.”

“Do you really think I’m so easily manipulated?” He sounded deeply insulted.

“Ordinarily, no,” I replied. “But when it comes to her—”

“You don’t even know her.”

“Actually, I’d wager I know her better than you do. Or at least, I’ve seen a side of her that she’s gone to great lengths to conceal from you.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” he asked agitatedly.

*

Cynthia believed she could call up my husband, on Christmas of all days, and get him to come running to her aid. In my best effort to thwart her, I decided to tell him what she’d said to me the night of Sheila’s party.

*

Ronan fiddled with his car keys as he took in every word of what’d transpired between me and Cynthia. “Before she stormed off,” I finished, “she claimed she would personally ensure I was gone from your life in a matter of weeks.” Ronan said nothing for several minutes, staring at the keys in his hands as though trying to decide what course of action to take.

*

“Natalie,” Ronan began, his detached tone filling me with dread. “I think you must have misunderstood her.”

“Are you kidding me, Ronan?” I responded with indignation.

“I already told you— she thinks you are a threat,” he explained. “That’s why she said those things. She believes you’re only after my money. Her actions are simply a misguided attempt to protect me.” Was there no limit to the excuses he would make for her?

*

My hands flew up in frustration as I argued fervently, “Ronan, open your eyes! She is NOT the person she pretends to be around you.” His expression was stern and unyielding as he insisted, “I’m telling you, you’re wrong!” Our conversation was going nowhere.

*

I sighed and said, “Candace warned me you wouldn’t hear a word against Cynthia. I thought you would listen to your wife, but clearly, I was wrong.”

“Candace put you up to this?” he asked as if that explained everything. He pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation as he muttered, “Natalie… there’s bad blood between Candace and Cynthia. The two of them have a bad history.”

“This has nothing to do with the two of them. This is about Cynthia behaving hostile toward me at every opportunity and her attempt to undermine our relationship at every turn. She puts on an act with you, Ronan. You’re just too close to her to notice.” He rolled his eyes at me, and I had to fight the urge to slap him. How dare he dismiss my concerns so disrespectfully?

*

“You’re being dramatic, Natalie,” Ronan stated, only adding to my ire. “I’ve known her for over a dozen years. No one can put on an act for that long.”

“Ronan, I know what I heard from her own mouth! I did NOT misinterpret the words she spoke to me or her intentions. She made herself perfectly clear. She was staking a claim on you.”

“A claim on me? That’s absurd! Have you forgotten that you are my wife?”

*

I tried to calm my voice as I replied, “I told you what she said to me. She wants me out of your life so she can take my place.” Ronan also lowered his voice, matching my calmness, and said, “You are reading far too much into this. And I don’t appreciate you second-guessing my judgment.” What little control of my temper I’d managed to reclaim vanished at his statement.

*

“Second-guessing your judgment?!” I shouted.

“Lower your voice, Natalie.” I dismissed him and went on, “I listened to your judgment when you had less than positive things to say about my friend. And you’re the one who insisted I always speak my mind with you. Was all that just talk?”

“You know it wasn’t, but I’m trying to address your concerns, and you’re being obstinate. You barely know Grant, whereas I’ve known Cynthia nearly half my life. A hell of a lot longer than I have known you, by the way. And she’s made similar claims about you— that you’re manipulating me. Should I believe her?” I should’ve known she’d already tried to spin things around, making me look like the viper she was. I suddenly understood where all her confidence had come from. She’d already put a bug in his ear.

*

“The difference between me and Cynthia,” I said, “is that I have always been completely genuine.”

“This from the woman who hid her past from me for over a year. Or have you forgotten what drove you to marry me?”

“Of course, I haven’t,” I replied through clenched teeth. “But hiding my past out of fear is not the same as being duplicitous. Cynthia has created an alternate persona just for you, Ronan. You don’t know the real woman at all.”

*

Ronan’s fist came down on the kitchen island angrily. I’d seen him irate before, but never at me. “Do not speak to me like I am a complete imbecile,” he barked.

“I’m not!” I yelled back. “But I will NOT sit on the sidelines while she threatens me. She practically told me she would get to you, one way or another, and here she is proving her point. She can summon you at any time, even Christmas morning, knowing you will come running.”

*

Ronan looked down at the keys in his hand again, either trying to make a decision or searching for the words to tell me that he already had. “You’re still going to go to her… aren’t you?” I guessed, and my heart sank when he nodded. “If for nothing else,” he justified, “than to hear her explanation for why she said what she did to you. I’m sure there’s a sensible reason.” At this point, I’d lost the ability to be shocked by the lengths to which he would go to defend her. “There is no sensible reason,” I stated plainly. “But you do what you have to do, Ronan.”

*

I left my husband in the kitchen, retreating upstairs. I passed my bedroom and entered my art room, though I had no will to paint. I unconsciously moved to the windows which overlooked the front of the property. Hardly a minute later, my eyes burned with tears as Ronan’s Lamborghini streaked across the driveway.

*

My chest grew tight as the black car faded from view. With no furniture in the room, I lowered myself to the floor, where I relinquished control of my tears, letting them fall freely. After presenting Ronan with all my reservations regarding Cynthia, in addition to the hateful words she’d spoken to me, he still went to her.

*

For weeks, I’d fought to keep a tight rein on my emotions, but I’d failed. I’d fallen for Ronan before recognizing my fate was sealed. Watching him leave to go to the rescue of another woman was the slap in the face I needed to realize how much of my heart I’d already surrendered to him.

*

I’d respected Ronan’s perception of Grant. I’d accepted his advice about Helena. I’d placed my trust in him… but he couldn’t do the same for me when it mattered most. He did not know the real Cynthia Price, of that much I was certain. And I began to fear Ronan was in love with the woman he saw in her. He may not have wanted to tie his life to hers, but he obviously held her in a much higher regard than me.

*

It felt like the walls of Ronan’s house were closing in on me. There’s nothing like being left behind to make a person feel like they had no choice but to flee. I knew he would come after me. I knew I would never be rid of him— not that I was even sure I wanted to be. But I needed a reprieve. I needed time and space to think about the ninety-degree turn my life had taken recently. I needed the kind of perspective only offered by going home again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~