So now there will be a lunch where the questions will be more direct, because Ryan won’t be there to make sure they aren’t.
Standing on my tiptoes, I pull him closer, until my mouth is mere inches from his. We both love this part, the anticipation, when breaths mingle and my brown eyes stare into his blue ones. We’re close but not close enough. His hands slip under the hem on my shirt, his fingers digging into the soft skin at my waist while mine slide up the back of his neck, my fingers curling into his dark hair. Ryan’s hair is longer than it was when we first met, when I first started watching him. I told him I liked it like this. That I liked having something to hold on to, so he stopped cutting it. I could tell his friends were surprised when they saw him, because from my own social media research, his hair has never touched his collar. And then they looked to me, and I could see their questions. Why has Ryan changed? And is it because of this girl?
He drags his hands lower, gripping my thighs under my short skirt and pulling me up so my legs can wrap around him.
“Will you stay?” he whispers, even though we’re the only two people in the house. He asks me this question every night.
“Yes,” I whisper back. My answer is always the same.
Ryan’s mouth hovers over mine but still maintains a sliver of space between us. I lose focus on his face. Even though he’s killing me, I wait for him to close the distance between us.
“I don’t want to ask anymore. I want to know you’ll be here every night because it’s your home too. Will you do that? Make this your home?”
I dig my fingers deeper into his hair and lock my legs tighter around him. “I thought you’d never ask.”
I feel his smile against my lips, and he’s kissing me then carrying me through the kitchen, down the hall to the bedroom.
Our bedroom.
Chapter 2
Ever since Ryan asked me to move in with him five days ago and I said yes, he’s been impatient for it to happen. I woke up the morning after the dinner party to him on the phone with a moving company, scheduling their services for later that day, thanks to a last-minute cancellation.
I convinced him to wait, even if it was just for a week, to make sure this was really what he wanted and not just something he said after an evening of expensive wine and perfectly cooked beef tenderloin. Plus, I mentioned he was getting a little ahead of himself by calling the movers when I haven’t packed anything yet.
“If you didn’t really want to move in with me, you’d tell me, right?” Ryan is standing in front of the bathroom mirror, knotting a dark blue and gray striped tie, and trying to act like he’s asked me some insignificant thing. He’s pouting. Something I’ve seen before when he doesn’t get his way.
I hop up on the counter and scoot down the white marble surface until I’m sitting right in front of him. He looks over my shoulder as if he can still watch his progress in the mirror behind me. He’s being a little bit of a baby this morning.
I’ve memorized his face, but I still study it every chance I get, looking for any small piece I may have missed. He’s attractive in a classic way. His dark hair is thick and tends to curl at the edges when it gets too long, as it is now. His blue eyes are striking, and even though he just shaved I know by the time I see him tonight his jaw will be shadowed and I’ll get goose bumps when it grazes my neck.
Brushing his hands away, I finish tying the tie for him. “Of course I want to move in here. Where’s this coming from?”
Ryan looks down at the tie, straightening it even though it’s already straight but needing something to do. He hasn’t touched me this morning and barely looked at me. Yep, total baby.
Since he hasn’t answered me, I add, “Have you changed your mind about me being here? I know you think I’ve been avoiding packing, but I’ve set aside the entire day today to get it done, and Goodwill is coming by to pick up everything I don’t need anymore. But I can call them and cancel . . .”
His eyes and hands are finally on me. “Yes, I still want you here. I didn’t know that’s what you were planning to do today. But you’ve picked the one day I can’t help you. I’m swamped today.”
Today is Thursday, and he’ll be fifty miles away from here at his East Texas office for the day. Just like he is every Thursday.
“I know, the timing sucks. But today was the only day I could get off work and the only afternoon Goodwill could send a truck over. I don’t have much, so even by myself, it shouldn’t take long.”
His hands squeeze my sides while he leans forward to kiss me on the lips. His pout long gone, I hook my feet around the back of his legs and pull him close.
“Maybe I can call in sick. I am the boss, after all, and it’s high time I abused my position of power,” he says with a laugh.
I giggle between kisses. “Save your sick day for something better than packing. And really, there won’t be that much to pack since I’m giving almost everything away.” I glance through the door to the bedroom. “My stuff isn’t as nice as yours, so there’s no reason to keep it.”
His hands go to my face. “I told you, anything you want to bring here, we’ll make room for it. You don’t have to get rid of your stuff.”
Biting my bottom lip, I say, “I promise you, you don’t want my ugly secondhand couch in your living room.”
“How would I know if I didn’t want your ugly secondhand couch in my living room? You’ve never let me see it.” I try to sidestep this landmine of a conversation by looking away, but his finger pulls my chin back so we’re eye to eye. “You don’t have to be embarrassed.”
“Yes, I do,” I say, matching his stare. Then I lean in and kiss him quickly to avoid another pout. “You’ll see it on Saturday when we meet the movers there. I scheduled them yesterday. And Sunday will be spent finding space for my stuff here. Save your sick day for Monday. By Monday, we’ll both be exhausted and I’m sure we’ll need a pajama day. Pajamas optional.”
He leans his forehead against mine, his smile infectious. “It’s a date.” With a last quick kiss, he pushes away from me and strolls out of the bathroom.
Twenty minutes after Ryan’s Tahoe pulls out of the driveway, I’m doing the same in my ten-year-old 4Runner. Lake Forbing is a medium-size town in north Louisiana that is known for its fertile farmlands and deep pockets of natural gas. There is a lot of money in this area, but it’s the quiet kind. It takes fifteen minutes to get to Lake View Apartments from Ryan’s house, and from what I can tell it’s nowhere near the lake this town was named after.
I pull into the empty spot designated for apartment 203, right next to the idling Goodwill truck.
“You’re early, Pat,” I say to the driver once we’re both out of our vehicles.
He nods. “Our first run didn’t take as long as I thought it would. Which unit is it?”
Pat follows me up the stairs while his helper opens the back of the large box truck. Stopping in front of the door, I pull a key out of my bag. “This is me.”
He nods again and heads back downstairs. It takes me a couple of tries to get the bolt to unlatch; lack of use has made it stubborn. Just as I’m turning the knob, I hear the thump, thump of the metal dolly bouncing up the stairs.
I hold the door open as Pat and his helper struggle to get the dolly through the narrow frame.
“Where do you want them?” he asks.
Glancing around the empty apartment, I say, “Just put them in the middle of the room.”
I eye the first stack of boxes, each filled with the items I’ve spent the last four days picking out. Things Pat has been storing for me in that box truck until I was ready for him to bring them here. Things that I will move to Ryan’s house on Saturday. Things I will say I’ve owned for years rather than days.
It takes two trips to get all the boxes upstairs. I pull five twenties out of my back pocket and hand them to Pat. This is not a service Goodwill offers, but for a slip of cash, he was more than happy to help.