"I'm making some mimosas if you'd like one. Let me just throw on some shorts real quick. Help yourself." I gesture toward the kitchen as I head back toward the hallway.

"Thanks, Maggie. I'd love one."

Hurriedly, I tear into my room, tossing Ry's shirt onto the bed. Luckily, I find a pair of decent shorts, deciding to add a sports bra to the mix to try to be a little more hospitable and less jiggly before pulling Ry's shirt back on. Because God knows there's not much worse than being greeted by another woman's unencumbered breasts. Much less a woman you don't really know.

Returning to find Cara with a mimosa in hand and glancing around the living room at all of the framed photographs adorning both the wall and end tables, I watch as she glances over at me. "How long have you and Ry been together?"

With a nervous laugh, I slide my hands into the front pockets of the soft material of my shorts. "We're not really ... together."

Shrugging, I add, "I mean, he and Jack had been together for such a long time and then..." I trail off awkwardly, unsure of how to even begin to explain the situation. Then I realize Cara's staring at me. In a way that sends prickles of unease through me.

Her eyebrows furrow in what appears to be confusion. "What do you mean he and Jack had been together?"

"I mean together-together." My words are drawn out slowly.

After a beat of silence, she throws her head back in a laugh that's ... Heck, the only way to describe it is a full-on belly laugh. Cara's laughing so hard, she actually has to wipe away tears from her eyes.

While I just stand there, watching it all happen, wondering what the hell this chick is smoking.

"I'm sorry," she says breathlessly between some more, less hearty laughs. "It's just hilarious to hear that. I mean there's no way Ry and Jack have ever been anything more than friends, let alone gay." Another peal of laughter escapes, and I'm standing here wondering what she's on. Because maybe she shouldn't be drinking that mimosa, after all. Everyone knows you shouldn't mix alcohol with pills ...

"I mean I should know, right?" she continues while I eye her mimosa glass, wondering if I should just be ballsy and rip it from her grasp. "I dated Ry for about eight months. I know that was two years ago but still ..."

That's the moment it happens. When everything stops.

"I'm sorry, what?"

Surely, I didn't hear her correctly. Because there's no way she dated Ry for eight months, let alone two years ago. Because that just doesn't make sense.

Ry's gay.

Isn't he?

The room feels like it's closing in, air thinning as my mind races. Memories flash through my mind-through all of the encounters I've had with Ry since meeting, since moving in together. The times when he ended up with my dates, the times when the guys ended up seeming to like him more.

Something's not adding up.

"Ry's not ... gay?" I ask Cara cautiously, tentatively.

She must notice something in my expression because her features sober, eyes growing wide, her lips parting to answer me.

But before she can speak, another voice answers for her.

"No, I'm not."

Chapter Fifty-Two.

Ry I'm out of breath from sprinting the remaining blocks to get back here, in hopes that I might be able to get here before anything happened-before any serious talking occurred.

When I hear Cara's uninhibited laughter through the door, I get the worst feeling in the pit of my stomach. Shoving my key in the door, Maggie and Cara must not hear me enter over the sound of Cara's laughter.

"Ry's not ... gay?" I hear the confusion in Maggie's voice.

Before Cara can answer her, the words spill out of my mouth.

"No, I'm not."

Startled, Maggie whips her head around; she's staring at me with a combination of hurt and what is now coming to the forefront of her expression-anger.

Then another emotion joins in the mix. Betrayal.

"You lied to me." She doesn't yell, the eerily quiet statement hanging there in the silence of the room as Cara suddenly looks uncomfortable, an unexpected bystander in all of this.

Stepping forward, I start, "Mags, please-"

"Don't." She stops me with a hand. "Don't call me that." The pain etching her features makes me feel gutted. "You lied to me. How could you?" Her voice rises gradually.

"I'm sorry, Mag-"

"You're sorry?" Her tone is rising, incredulous. "You're sorry?" She tosses her hands in the air. "You apologize for breaking a dish or spilling something on the couch. You can't just apologize for lying to me for over a year!"

Walking over to the large windows of the living room, she lets out a harsh, humorless laugh before spinning to face me again. "You must think I'm the biggest idiot."

"No, I-"

"Were you ever gay?" Her words lash out at me, dripping with accusation and pain.

"No, but-"

"So you weren't ever in a relationship with Jack?"

Damn it. My throat tightens, and I have to force my answer past my lips, so ripe with regret. "No."

Pain etches her features. "I let you in my life. In my bed! And it was all a lie?!"

Fuck. My entire body is rigid with a mixture of anger, disappointment, and regret, but it's the anger that floods my tone. "I tried to tell you so many damn times, Mags! But you cut me off and wouldn't let me!"

Shaking my head, I take in harsh, ragged breaths. Defeated. "I love you. I just never knew how to tell-"

Her head rears back as if I've slapped her before her expression completely closes off. "You need to leave. Now. I don't want to hear your voice or see your face." Her lips press thin; eyes sparkling with unshed tears before speaking through clenched teeth. "I don't want to see you. Ever again."

Maggie darts over to grab her coat from the chair, along with her purse and keys, rushing out the door and closing it behind her with a loud thunk.

With finality.

Fuck. I've lost her.

Hell, I don't know that I ever had her to begin with.

Cara clears her throat, making me realize I'd forgotten her presence. Her smile is filled with pity. Stepping toward me, she sets her glass of what looks to be a mimosa on the counter.

"Guess you're going to need help packing, huh?"

I'm living on Jack's couch in his small one bedroom loft. Just living the dream.

The first night, I got stinking, sloppy-ass drunk. And continued throughout the weekend. Because not only am I heartbroken, but I'm royally pissed off at myself for screwing things up.

I've single-handedly managed to make the woman of my dreams hate me.

"You do realize it's Sunday night, right?" Jack plops down next to me on the oversized leather couch.

"Yep."

"You plan to nurse your broken heart forever or what?"

"What are my other options?" I snarl.

He stares at me as if I'm dense. "Uh, getting your shit together and winning her back?" There's a beat of silence. "You can't really be this clueless, can you?"

Flipping him the bird, I refuse to look away from ESPN. Not that I care who's playing or which team's winning. "She told me she never wants to see me again. Ever. Pretty sure that's as clear as it gets."

"And you're just going to let it go? Dude," he shakes his head, "I thought that a chick who's supposedly 'the one' was worth the fight."

Pulling a throw pillow-yeah, Jack actually has fucking throw pillows-from beside me on the couch, I press it over my face, muffling my groan of frustration.

"Whenever you're done trying to suffocate yourself, buddy, I'll be sitting here. Still."

Abruptly dropping the pillow on my lap, it bounces off and onto the floor as I cut him a look. "Can't you leave me the hell alone?"

Leaning down to pick up the pillow, he replaces it on the couch. "Why? So you can wallow in self-pity? In the mess of your own doing?"

"Wow. Keep it up. You're making me feel much better already."

He shakes his head at me. "Dude. Seriously. You're giving up without a fight. That's it?" He makes a scoffing sound. "That's not the Ryland James I know-knew. He's never been a quitter."

"She hates me," I mutter. "I hate me. What more is there?"

"Do you love her?"

My head snaps to face him, and I'm wearing an incredulous look on my face. He merely stares back and calmly asks again, "Do you love her?"

"Yeah, I love her," I answer with a sigh, looking away.

"She loves you, too, you know."

That piercing ache in my chest flares up, becoming more painful at Jack's words.

"She just needs to work through everything. Needs to miss you. Then," he nudges me with his arm, "you'll need to remind her how much you love her. Not as a roommate, who's supposedly gay, but as a man who loves her inside and out."

I remain sitting there, still as a statue. Staring sightlessly at the television, I'm silent for a long moment.

"That was pretty deep. You sure you're not the one who's gay?" I quip, the corner of my mouth tipping up slightly.

"Don't make me kick your sorry ass." He rises from the couch. "Now, get the hell off my couch and shower. We've got some brainstorming to do."

Chapter Fifty-Three.

Maggie "You have to eat something, Maggie." Sarah's exasperated with me and with good reason. I've been living on dry cereal for days now.

Or has it been weeks? Who knows? More importantly, who cares? At least, I'm hauling my butt to work, right? That's the important part. I'm being an adult where it counts.

"I'm eating this because I no longer have a roommate. Which means I'm responsible for the entire rent." Shoving a handful of O's in my mouth, I crunch loudly. "A-gain."

Grabbing the box of cereal from its perch beside me on the couch, Sarah shakes her head.

"Seriously, Maggie."

Oh, no. The hand's on the hip. I repeat, Sarah has her hand on her hip. The sass is evident in her next words. "How did you not figure out Ry wasn't gay?"

I stare at her incredulously. "You mean you knew the entire time?" Deflating, I slump my shoulders as I mutter, "Was I the only one who didn't know?"

"Probably." My head snaps up at Sarah's quick response. "I was finally going to say something that day in the coffee shop, but you ran out so fast, like you were trying to beat a Kenyan in the next Olympics."

There's a pause, and then her voice is softer, gentler. "Look, Maggie. The only reason I didn't tell you earlier is because, after Jack had confirmed things for me, I knew Ry wasn't doing any of this to hurt you. I could tell he loved you, and I figured I'd let it play out."

I can't do this. Can't hear this. It just hurts too much. Standing abruptly, I blurt out, "I'm going to watch the tearful homecomings with all the military members surprising their families."

Reaching for my laptop, Sarah grabs it, tugging it from my grip. "That's totally not a cry for help," she mutters. "No. I can't let you sink to that level."

"But is it even a level? Could rock bottom even be considered a level?" I tip my head to the side in thought.

"That's it," Sarah abruptly announces. "Get up. We're going out."

"No." No way do I want to go out. I get that it's Friday night but no. Just no. I'm off work and want to wallow with my O's cereal. We're happy together. Just the two of us. Maggie and O's. M and O. MO.