Page 9 of The Other Side of Paradise (Story of Paradise #2)

Stella

I’d gone to bed hoping somehow Ryan would show up and the whole family would stop being such a disaster, and I got half of what I wanted—Ryan showed up in the morning. The other half, well, maybe not so much.

We’d been out on the beach again with an armload of snacks from the café just on the corner, enjoying being just a short walk away from beautiful white-sand beach and sunshine, and I’d poured all my frustrations into swimming as hard as I could.

Dad pretended like nothing had happened last night while people were around, putting on a smile and being his usual quiet self, but I still felt the wound of the look he’d given me last night—like he was a stranger, and I was scared to be around him.

Going out into the ocean and swimming until it hurt felt like the practical solution given that.

Mom was scowling the whole time, lying in her beach recliner with sunglasses on reading a book, and honestly, I could be forgiven for thinking she was less worried about Ryan and more annoyed that she’d given them the slip.

I didn’t know whether to be pissed off with Ryan for making this whole scene or kinda respect her for how readily she’d flipped off the whole family and vanished.

I’d just been ranting with Oscar about it—well, at Oscar—on our way back up from the beach when Oscar looked up and waved across the grass-lined paths between the resort and the beach, and I followed his gaze to where Ryan came striding back along the side of the volleyball court, quiet and empty right now in the early morning.

She had a look like a woman on a mission, and I shot her a wild look as Oscar spoke as easily and as casually as if he’d expected her.

“I was wondering if you’d come back,” he said, and I put my hands up.

“There you are,” I said. “Where the hell did you go?”

Ryan spoke breezily, barely acknowledging us, her gaze flicking around the area. “I told you. I was visiting someone.” She sighed shortly, and she stood closer to us, shielding her eyes against the sun. “How’s everything been?”

Oscar spoke as if nothing had happened. “Yeah, pretty good,” he said. “Helena wanted to go swimming first thing, so we woke up and had some quick snacks at the café and hit the beach, me and her, Stella, Mom and Dad, Nicole… well, Mom stayed on the beach reading.”

I gave him a loaded sigh. “Mom stayed on the beach because she’s in an awful mood,” I said, turning to Ryan. “And she was specifically mad about you , Ryan. What did you do that you had to go run away from everything for? And who’s this friend you’re visiting?”

Ryan spoke in a brisk, airy tone, looking past us.

“Her name’s Brooklyn,” she said. “She’s really nice.

Works at the bar here. Let me know that Shane tried to cheat on me with her, and let me stay the night with her when he got pissed off about me dumping him and wouldn’t let me stay the night here. She makes a damn good pizza.”

I felt like I got hit in the gut, mouth falling open as I searched for words. “He cheated on you?” I blurted. Shit, but I knew it. I knew he’d been—I knew he was just looking for his chance. I knew his type. But still—I shook my head. “And you went and hung out with the homewrecker?”

Ryan shook her head, a distant look in her eyes—woman was shaken up, barely there.

Clearly here to do something and just powering through to get to that point.

“Hardly a homewrecker…” she said, her voice a little small, weak.

“She didn’t sleep with him in the end because she realized he had a girlfriend, so she called it off and tracked me down to tell me. So. That happened. Where’s Mom now?”

Oscar let out a low whistle, like this was all just oops, awkward. “Damn,” he said. “Guess we jinxed it, huh? Sorry, uh… sorry about that.”

Ugh—I guess they’d been talking about a comment I’d made, when I told Ryan he was going to start acting up if he wasn’t proposing.

I pinched my nose. “Oh my god,” I said. “This is what I’m talking about!

I was telling you, you let him wander off on his own devices that much, this is going to happen! ”

Ryan made a noncommittal noise, looking out in the direction of the beach, and she said, “Well, you’ll be delighted to know it’s not his first time.”

I cringed. “He’s been cheating?”

“Yup.”

“What a fucking asshole,” I said, positively itching out to my fingertips.

I’d never really even cared about Ryan’s love life—she was boring and so was her dating history—but I wasn’t clueless about the fact that it represented a lot more than just one sleazy man trying to fuck someone on the side.

“This is why you don’t date players,” I muttered. “They’re never really reformed.”

Ryan sighed heavily. “Where’s Mom? I’m assuming Shane got to her to tell her his version of events…”

Oscar was the one to say, “Mom’s in her room. Getting ready for the proper breakfast.”

I pursed my lips. “Where’s Shane? ” I said. “I’ll go give him a piece of my mind.”

Ryan put her hands up in a defensive gesture. “Please don’t. I know you’re trying to make the situation better, but please don’t. I’m going to see Mom before we go out.”

I swallowed hard past the bitter spike of frustration—the thought of Ryan just rolling over and accepting it made me feel like I’d rather walk into the ocean than deal with this damn family just keeping up appearances.

If she’d just walked out for a night and was back to play nice and patch it all up, I was going to scream.

“What, are you going to be polite now?” I said.

“Try not to start something? I’m going to find him.

God dammit—” I pinched the bridge of my nose.

“I’m so pissed off, like I knew this was going to happen. ”

“Stella, please,” Ryan said with a sigh, stepping away. “Thanks for the support. Just don’t… make things worse with Shane. I’m… I’m going to talk to Mom now.”

“I’m sorry he’s such a piece of shit,” I muttered, looking off towards the resort, trying to pinpoint where Shane’s room was. For… no reason. “I’m glad you dumped him. I knew this was going to happen. I can’t believe he’d already been cheating.”

Ryan made a face, but she didn’t get to say anything before we were joined by the last person we needed—Aunt Helena’s voice coming up from the beach behind us, calling out, “What’s happening?

” and I looked back with a glower at where maybe my least favorite relative Helena Saxton came up behind us, a tall and thin woman who carried herself like she thought she should have been at Martha’s Vineyard instead of here.

Of all the snooty people in my family who let the money get to their heads, Aunt Helena was the worst—and she’d barely made any secret of being pissed off that her husband didn’t want kids and she was jealous that her immature younger sister had the audacity to have twins.

Of course, she never said that out loud, and nobody ever talked about it, because nobody ever said anything out loud in this family.

Aunt Helena made a face at Ryan. “Oh, god, Ryan. I thought you’d up and run away from us all. How long have you been back?”

“Just got back,” Ryan said, moving past her. “Going to go see Mom about some stuff.”

Oh—was that what we were doing? Being polite and genteel, sweeping the whole thing about Shane cheating under the rug? I was not going along with another polite cover story. I squeezed my hands. “ Some stuff being Shane fucking cheating on her.”

“Stella,” Ryan groaned. “I don’t want to do this right now.”

Aunt Helena laughed once, her face scrunched up in confusion, looking like a bullfrog when she did. “Is this all some kind of joke?”

“Yes,” Ryan cut in before I could say anything. “Stella’s just having some big feelings. Please ignore her.”

Oh, we were not fucking doing that. I gestured to Ryan. “She just dumped Shane’s sorry ass because he was trying to sleep with the bartender.”

Oscar glowered at me. “Stella, do you listen?”

Hard to listen when nobody actually said anything. Aunt Helena looked horrified between us before she said, “I’m sure this is all some kind of mistake. Shane loves you desperately.”

Ryan tightened her posture, a flicker over her features, before she said, “Shane admitted it to me himself, so I’m inclined to believe him.

Brooklyn told me he’d been taking her back to his room until she realized a couple was staying there, so she tracked me down and told me.

It’s pretty damn clear what’s going on here. ”

Aunt Helena had the fucking audacity to scowl at her. “Was this really the best time for all this?”

I shot her a look, hands up. “What are you talking about?” I said incredulously. “It’s not Ryan’s fault he cheated on her now.”

Aunt Helena shook her head. “I understand everyone has relationship issues, but making a scene out of it as soon as we finally get the family together and we’re on vacation—”

I was going to start throwing hands. “Are you out of your fucking mind?” I said, and Aunt Helena looked like she was going to have a stroke.

“ Stella . Don’t use that kind of language here.”

Oh, she was lucky I wasn’t using worse. “ Ryan’s not the one making a scene if it’s Shane sneaking around and trying to fuck the bartender—”

“He didn’t sleep with her,” Aunt Helena said. “Your husband is going to think about other women sometimes, and it’s never good for anyone involved, but you can’t lose your cool about it.”

Jesus. I didn’t even know where to start with that. “It’s not even the first time he’s cheated on her,” I said, breathless and incredulous, and Aunt Helena sighed, like we were the unreasonable ones.

“Still, communication is important,” she said. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation here.”

Oh, could she not? This conversation could be done real fast if she had the tiniest bit of sense. Ryan let out a frustrated sigh. “I don’t want to be. I want to go talk to my mother now.”

Aunt Helena put her hands up. “We’re only having this conversation because—”

Oscar cut in, a hand up. “Look, great conversation and all, but if nobody wants to talk about this, can we drop it? If we’re going to start shouting at each other, I want to put a shirt on first.”

Aunt Helena gave me her practiced self-righteous look. “You bring this conversation up, and now you want to yell at me about having it?”

I shook my head in disbelief. “Conversation is a strong word for coming in here trying to gaslight someone about her boyfriend cheating on her.”

Aunt Helena’s voice climbed higher as she said, “I’m not saying it’s okay to cheat. Of course it’s not! But there’s a time and a place to do something about it! This is just reflecting badly on everybody and ruining the entire trip—”

I cut in, my voice straining. “I can’t believe you’re trying to make this like it’s Ryan’s fault,” I said, and Ryan snapped, raising her voice like I never heard from her.

“That’s enough, ” she shouted. “I’m going. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

“Ryan,” Aunt Helena said, but Ryan stormed away, no room for another word. Aunt Helena gestured after her. “You’re being so immature right now, Ryan!”

“Are you serious, Aunt Helena?” I said, stepping in between her and Ryan’s disappearing figure. “She just got stabbed in the back by her partner and you’re criticizing her? Do you have shame? ”

Aunt Helena cycled through a whole different range of colors, first white, then red, then vaguely green, like a self-satisfied human disco ball. Oscar gave me a frustrated sigh. “Stella,” he said. “Let’s listen to what Ryan needs right now. And it sounds like what she needs is to drop it.”

“I’m sick of just dropping things and pretending nothing is happening,” I blurted.

“Stella,” Aunt Helena said, her voice dripping with disappointment, and it just pissed me off more.

Used to be I’d shrink away and cower at that kind of thing, but I guess this trip was me letting go of all of this.

Me learning to say what was on my mind, too.

How about that? She shook her head before she said, “We’re really going to have to have a talk with you and your parents.

I thought they’d already told you how to behave in public. ”

I snorted. “And nobody ever told you how to behave in private, huh?”

That blow landed, judging by the way she looked at me like I’d just murdered someone. “ Stella. ”

“Shut up.”

Aunt Helena drew a long, shaky breath, eyes wide, quivering, fixed on me, before Oscar put a hand on my shoulder.

“Come on. This isn’t our issue to get involved in. We should get ready for breakfast.”

I shot him a horrified look. “You want me to just… mosey on along to breakfast with everybody, sit around a big happy table pretending like everything is fine?”

He shrugged. “It’s what Ryan would want. Less fighting over her. She’s got enough stress right now with Shane. Let’s not give her more.”

Jesus Christ. I was going to fucking lose it if I had to go along to breakfast. But maybe he was right—maybe they’d just go yell at Ryan more if they blamed her for me not showing up to breakfast. “Sure, whatever,” I muttered, turning away, hiding the quiver in my face.

“Guess I’ll go get ready. Just need a minute. ”

To go cry in frustration. Over someone who wasn’t even my boyfriend cheating. I didn’t know what the hell was wrong with me. A lot, probably.