Page 59 of Caffeine & Chaos
Him.
As the evening wore on, Ryan found himself increasingly irritated by Nadia’s continued silence. Despite keeping himself occupied throughout the afternoon, the absence of any word from her troubled him. With dinner approaching, he couldn’t shake the growing sense of frustration.
He’d thrown himself into the chores of the ranch, tending to the horses and repairing fences, trying to distract himself from the gnawing feeling in his gut, but his mind kept drifting back to Nadia’s whereabouts. Armand’s updates throughout the day provided reassurance; he knew she hadn’t gone to the precinct or her apartment, and he also knew that she had connected with Mandy.
Yet, the lack of direct communication from her left him feeling agitated. Why hadn’t she reached out to him, even with a brief message?
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the landscape, Ryan’s annoyance mingled with concern. Each passing minute without word from Nadia heightened his unease, fueling a growing sense of urgency to hear from her.
Just as Ryan was about to call her himself, his phone rang, jolting him from his thoughts. The caller ID indicated it was Bruce, the private detective he’d enlisted to investigate the identity of the man who’d sent Nadia flowers. Given the recent break-in at her apartment, Ryan suspected Bruce was checking in to provide an update or offer assistance.
“Hi Bruce,” Ryan said, trying to hide his agitation at the infuriating woman he couldn’t get enough of.
“Hi Ryan, I heard about your mother from Theresa. Hope she is doing alright,” Bruce said. His sincerity was genuine; it wasn’t just pleasantries for the sake of it.
“Thank-you Bruce, she is recovering remarkably well. I went to see her today and she was up briefly, is talking and appears to be perfectly lucid. There will be some challenges ahead no doubt, but we feel lucky given what it could have been,” Ryan answered. He gave Bruce more detail than he would typically give an acquaintance, but he figured that the man was a PI and could easily find out the details if he wanted to. Plus, Ryan trusted him.
“I have some news to share regarding the Moore woman connected to my investigation,” Bruce started.
“If it is about the break in, I am already aware of it, but I’d love for you to track down the son of a bitch who did it. I’m particularly interested in whether this was some kind of a stunt used to get to me,” Ryan said bitterly.
“I don’t have much info on the break in yet, but I’ve put some calls in to my contacts with the MPD and should hear back soon,” Bruce let a heavy sigh escape before continuing, “I’ve got some other intel to give you. You’re not going to like it,” he said flatly.
Ryan rubbed the bridge of his nose, pondering what kind of information Bruce might have. He was already aware of Nadia’s vibrant social life in Miami, including her history with multiple lovers.
“Alright, let’s hear it,” Ryan said, determined to step back into control.
“There is no easy way to put it, but it looks like she might be seeing another man,” Bruce replied.
Bruce’s words landed like a battering ram to the chest. Ryan felt his legs weaken, and he sank onto the mattress, eliciting a creak from the tired box spring.
“Should I continue?” Bruce asked when the silence stretched past a reasonable response time.
“Go ahead,” was all Ryan was able to muster. He rubbed at his eyes, trying to scrub the burgeoning images of Nadia with another man from his imagination.
“I found a social media account of a young man who attends Miami Dade College. He’s uploaded a photo of the two of them in bed together, with comments indicating that she is his girlfriend,” Bruce rushed through his words, apparently sensing the pain they might cause Ryan.
“What was the date on the post?” Ryan asked, keeping his devastation at bay by immediately flipping into the clinical executive on damage control.
“It looks like it was posted two days after the afternoon you spent together on Biscayne Bay,” Bruce answered quickly.
Ryan’s face burned with indignation. She had lied to him. The ache in his chest turned into a burning fury, driving him to find out more.
“What else?” Ryan asked.
“I did some digging around and it looks like they were together at Il Gabbiano’s as well, again, a few days after you two were together at the Bay,” Bruce cleared his throat, before continuing, “would you like me to send you the file?”
“Yes. Send me everything, thank-you Bruce.” Ryan’s voice was chillingly composed, his tone dripping with a cold resolve. He intended to unearth every last detail about this man, tear apart his life, and then figure out what to do with Nadia.
Shortly after hanging up, Ryan received the electronic file. He grabbed his laptop and headed to a quaint Mom and Pop’s restaurant near the ranch. There, amidst the comforting buzz of casual diners, he could review the materials away from his family, shielded from their prying eyes, while also being forced to maintain his composure.
Ryan slipped into the corner booth of the dimly lit restaurant, its tired décor offering a sense of comfort despite its worn appearance. Dust-colored lace fabric adorned the window coverings, casting a soft glow over the faded red leather of the booth seat, which bore a deep crack, a testament to years of use.
Ryan opened his laptop, the anger simmering within him as he examined the files. The young man’s name was Travis Jacobson, a mediocre engineering student at the Wolfson campus, with no job listed, likely living off student loans. As he scrolled through the first picture file, his fists clenched in fury. It was a screenshot from Travis’ Instagram account, showcasing Nadia asleep, with his arm possessively around her bare shoulders.
Ryan’s grip on his phone tightened, his thumb hovering over the screen, itching to type out a message to Nadia. The image of her with that smug-faced Travis burned in his mind, fueling his rage like a fire fed by dry timber. Every fiber of his being screamed for him to confront her, to demand answers, to unleash the fury building within him. Yet, a part of him hesitated, a voice of reason urging caution, warning against acting impulsively.
“Hi there,” a chubby middle-aged woman with a smudged apron greeted him warmly, “can I get you something to drink, love?”