Chapter 30

Chapter

Thirty

Ryan stood in the middle of the yard at the ranch, admiring all they'd accomplished for the setup of Country and Jenna's wedding. The white tents were staked down, and garlands of greenery draped from the wooden trellises that would eventually line the pathway toward the altar. Peonies and wild blooms were arranged in delicate, swirling patterns, creating a soft, romantic atmosphere. The florists had done something to each stem to make sure the flowers lasted until the morning.

Across the way, Polk directed André, Boyd, and Fly in positioning chairs and a few other potted plants.

"Not bad, eh?" Polk put his hands on his hips. Ryan gave him a nod. They'd finished the dance floor early that morning, and all they had left to do was set up the bar. It wasn't bad at all.

"I can't wait to see their faces," he called back.

Polk grinned. "Country's going to cry, guaranteed. Dude's a softie."

Ryan chuckled and pulled his phone from his pocket for the hundredth time. It was past noon. The mediation had to be over by now.

He'd said Aelin didn't have to respond, and he'd meant it. But of course he hoped she would. After spending hours the night before at the bar and at home reading up on narcissistic relationships, he'd learned three things.

First, the fact that he'd tried to jump in and shower her with affection had probably had the opposite effect of what he intended. He was glad he'd helped but didn't know how he'd never heard the term "love bombing" before his thirties.

Second, he was going to have to prove himself. It was a shit deal that he had to make up for Clark's actions, but for twelve years, all Aelin knew was manipulation. He was going to have to prove over and over again that what he said was true, that he wasn't trying to get something from her or force her to be what he wanted.

Neither of those realities scared him off. He only hoped he hadn't miffed things too badly. Because being away from her brought him to truth number three.

He wanted more than four days in a cabin at the lake.

His thumb hovered over her name in his contact list. He wanted to text her, just to check in, then read over his last text and worried he'd already been too forward. How he felt couldn't come as a surprise. But should he have said it?

He exhaled and slid his phone back into his pocket. Maybe she didn't want his baggage. He'd been so concerned with being what she needed, the thought had never occurred to him. Once it was there in his head, it latched on with claws.

He stalked over and helped with the chairs. Polk had checked the weather religiously and was positive they weren't in for Alberta wind or a storm. They planned to come early the next morning to touch up anything that needed tweaking.

As they were breaking down boxes and clearing the trash, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, his heart in his throat, but it wasn't her. It was from his in-laws. He glanced up, checking on Amaya in the back with Suraj's son and hoping they weren't texting to cancel on the sleepover that night.

He opened the message, and his eyes narrowed. It was a picture with text he needed to zoom in on to read. When he read the first line, a wave of emotion punched him in the gut.

Final Decree of Divorce

In the Matter of the Marriage of Ryan Vargo and Kara Whitlock

Case No. 2024-D-01817

This matter came before the Court on the petition for dissolution of marriage between Ryan Vargo and Kara Whitlock , who were lawfully married. The Court, having considered the evidence presented and all matters pertinent to the case, hereby orders and decrees that the marriage between the parties is legally dissolved, effective as of August 17, 2024 . The terms of the divorce settlement, including the division of marital assets and liabilities, child custody, and spousal support, are incorporated herein as outlined in the attached agreements.

Ryan stared at the text from his mother-in-law.

Thought you'd want to know and knew you weren't at home. Love you, Ryan. So much. You're a good man.

His heart twisted in his chest, a strange mix of grief and release settling over him like a blanket. Three weeks. He'd assumed he'd have to wait at least a couple of months, but Laura had handled everything beforehand. There had been nothing to assess since the psychological and medical reports were all unanimous and conclusive .

The irony didn't escape him that it arrived that day of all days. While he stood there in the middle of a field, surrounded by wedding decorations.

Polk called out from across the back porch of Country and Jenna's house, snapping him back to the present. "Ryan! You good?"

Ryan sniffed and pocketed his phone. "Yeah, all good. Be right there."

They crammed the last of the boxes into the recycling bin, then piled into the bed of Polk's truck. He drove them up the road to his parent's place.

Ryan wasn't especially in the mood to practice the surprise number they had planned for Country's reception, but Polk's energy was contagious.

"You have to see these outfits." He opened the triple garage, jogging in like a kid on Christmas morning. It was cleaned out and swept, ready for them to desecrate it with whatever moves they had to do while wearing a buttload of pink sequins.

Polk's eyes danced as he pulled what looked like a shimmering wrestling singlet from a box. "Everyone try them on. I got the sizes you requested, but we have to make sure they fit or I'll be scrambling tonight."

Tyler burst out laughing. "Where on God's green earth did you find these?"

"I'm not giving you my sources." Polk grinned, then tossed the leotards at the guys one by one.

Polk closed the garage door, and they all stripped down right there to their underwear and pulled on the spandex suits.

"I think I just went gay for Sean," André crowed.

Sean flipped him off and turned, scowling. Ryan set his phone on the workbench and tossed his clothes in the corner with the rest, then tugged on the singlet. It was tight, but not uncomfortable. He laughed out loud when Polk turned, revealing glitter stars and fringe on his.

"Country's going to lose his shit. "

Polk winked as he wriggled into his outfit. "It's his secret favourite song. We have an obligation to bring it to life and show his wife what she got herself into."

"Pretty sure she's well aware." Tyler flexed in front of the workbench mirror. "I don't know, bud. I think Emma might like this look. Might be useful after the reception."

Polk waggled an eyebrow then clapped his hands. "Alright, we've only got forty-five minutes. Time for the choreography." He pulled out his phone and hit play on Pink Pony Club. The piano riffs filled the garage, and Polk moved the guys into position, yelling out their cues. "We'll start with a little hip swing while I'm doing some floor work. Then, pick a pose during this section here—do you hear it?"

Ryan couldn't take him seriously. The choreography was as ridiculous as the costumes. André and Fly struggled to keep up, and Tyler nearly fell over navigating the spin. Boyd was dying in the corner, bent over with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.

"Pull it together!" Polk pointed at Boyd's spot on the left of the formation.

They twerked, they hip thrusted. When Polk was satisfied with their initial efforts, he busted out bottled waters and gave them a two minute break.

Ryan had just cracked the top when he glanced over and saw his phone light up. He strode past Brett and Mike comparing nipple visibility and picked it up.

When he saw the name on the screen, he froze, nearly choking on the sip of water he'd just taken.

Aelin:

Mediation is over. I think I might've won .

He quickly typed out a message, the blood rushing in his ears.

Where are you?

He waited, holding his breath.

Polk whistled. "Alright, time?—"

"Shut the hell up!" Ryan held up a hand, and the garage went quiet. He watched for the three dots to appear. When they did, he finally exhaled.

Just picking up Bailey from Megan's. Then back to my place

Ryan spun, staring at the bedazzled men in front of him. "I have to go." His voice was raw.

Tyler glanced at his phone, then up to his face. "She texted back?"

He nodded, then jogged to the pile of clothes, searching for his things. "Why the hell is everything glommed together?" He gritted his teeth. When his hands landed on his jeans and T-shirt, he bundled them in his arms and slammed his palm on the garage opener.

"Send me the video. I'll practice later." He didn't wait for the door to fully open before bending and running to the driveway where he instantly realized his vehicle was still down at Country's.

"I got you, bud." Tyler ran to Polk's truck, keys in hand.