A/N: You know your story sucks when:
You have to review it yourself...
...on a more serious note, that review was meant for Hotterthnu's story, The Ex, but the site (or I) screwed up. If you want to know more about Briana and the wedding, I suggest you read it!
A/N: Shoulbeblonde, thanks for the review/comment. Also, thanks to kutu, Hotterthnu, Aleah, [captain oats] and Bluestargirl for letting me know that this story is still being read. It's a short chapter.
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Ryan POV
I walked into my apartment a few minutes after 3am. I'd planned to drive to Anna's apartment the minute I got my car out of Airport Parking but since an engine decided to be faulty, resulting in a plane change and a four hour delay, I had no choice but to drive home.
I saw it the minute I turned the lights on. The large gift-wrapped package was lying on my dinning table in all its glory. On it lay a white envelope I assumed was addressed to me. I wouldn't say that I was scared or anything but knowing that someone had been in my apartment, in my absence, was a little disconcerting – I guess it felt a little like my privacy had been invaded even though I doubted that a ticking bomb could have been so carefully wrapped.
I immediately recognized Anna's handwriting when I picked up the envelope to pull out the card. In it lay a neatly folded sheet of paper and a key – the key Seth made for her. The same key she'd never returned. Till now. I took them out and read the card. Other than the supposedly sentimental poem Hallmark had written, were the phrases, "My Dear Ryan" and "With Love, Anna." I put the card on the table then unfolded the paper and read that as well. It started off:
Hey, Ryan. I hope you had a wonderful 26th birthday. I'd planned to give this to you in Newport but I guess I couldn't...
I reached for the box, tore off the wrapping and opened it up. I pulled out a large framed oil painting of Seth, Kirsten, Sandy and I, casually sitting around the dinning table, laughing and eating out of Chinese food cartons. Even if I tried, I couldn't even begin to guess how she'd done it – the portrait didn't even look similar to any photos I'd ever seen, but every emotion we could have possessed on that day were meticulously captured on the paper. My eyes averted to the sheet in my hand and I kept on reading.
I honestly, didn't know what to get you –you never really tell me what you like or don't like...
"You never ask," I whispered to the empty room.
"...so I don't know if you'll like or hate this. I just figured that you didn't have anything like this in your room...
It was a good guess as she'd never really been in my room.
"...but I thought it'll be a nice thing to have. Also, I made this other one...
I pulled out another oil painting, this time of the twenty-year-old photo of Trey, my mother and I that I kept in my wallet.
... because I think they'll look great together. I really hope you like them. Take care, Anna.
No 'My Dear Ryan,' no 'With Love, Anna,' just an emotionless 'Take care.' Seeing that made me wonder if she'd written the note before, during or after her trip to Newport.
I looked at the clock hanging over my dining table. It read: 3:19. Less than four hours till Anna had to get up -about five hours before I had to leave for work. I wanted to call her to find out what this all meant, to find out why it took us breaking up for her to finally walk into my apartment. I wondered what made her deliver the gift even after all that had happened, if she'd hoped to see me or she'd known that I wouldn't be home – not that I thought she knew my flight details. Whatever it was, she was trying to send me a message and I'd had enough of just hoping, wishing and wondering - it was time for me to know.
I slapped my head in annoyance – why had I been such a fool? Why hadn't I called her the minute her brother shut the door behind him? Why had I thought that it was something that was better done in person? At least that way, I wouldn't have had to wait an entire day to speak with her; I wouldn't have had to keep waiting to find out if we really did have another chance.
Exasperated by the hopelessness of the situation, I sighed and looked down at the portrait. Sandy's face smiled back at me. I hissed. There in my possession was physical evidence that Anna realized how important the Cohens were to me. The date under the P.K.R initials showed it had been done two weeks earlier and that while she sat in her apartment, showing me she didn't care, she'd already safely tucked them in one of her suitcases. She really had said those words knowing how much Kirsten's party meant to me. I frowned, not exactly knowing how to feel. On one hand, it was great to know that she was aware... that she was not completely oblivious to my feelings but on the other hand, it pissed me off that knowing that was not enough for her to set her fears aside or at least, share them with me.
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I must have called her at least six times during the course of the following day. By the 3rd time, I'd started feeling foolish and around the 5th, I was pretty much irritated. If she didn't want to talk to me, both times she actually answered her phone, she should have said so, instead of "I'm in the middle of a call – I'll call you right back." And of course, she never called me back, although she let me thank her for the gift before she rushed me off the phone the second time. I'd convinced myself, wanting to believe that it wasn't one-sided, that she really was busy at work till I got home and heard the message on my answering machine that said:
"Hey, Ryan, I've been so swamped at work. Anthony quit so I'm pulling double duty till they get someone to replace him. I'm glad you liked your birthday present- I really wasn't sure you would. I had this sinking feeling that it was really lame and I'm glad you didn't think so, although I don't think you'd tell me even if you did." She chuckled. "Anyway, be good and take care of yourself!"
What was with the cheery tone? It infuriated me that she was trying to pretend that she didn't know that I would realize that she'd called my house phone – not my cell phone or my work phone- at two o'clock in the afternoon, knowing fully well that I wouldn't be home.
