He shook his head, clenching his jaw as tightly as he could.
“Ryan, it’s okay,” she said again, running her hands down the sides of his face. “What are you afraid of?” she asked.
He finally looked at her as the first small tear escaped and trickled down his cheek. It pooled in the corner of his lips and he licked it off. “I’m afraid that if I start, I won’t stop,” he managed, even though his voice was quivering.
She smiled up at him. Her smile was so open and empathetic that, no matter how much he wanted to stop himself, he couldn’t. Another tear slipped down his cheek; she wiped it away with her thumb.
“Some days,” he whispered, “some days it all feels too much, I just have to push it all down.”
She nodded. “But you can’t push it down forever.”
She took him by the hands and led him back towards the bed. She climbed on and pulled him next to her. She wrapped her arm around him and pulled his head down onto her chest. He lay there with his cheek pressed into her warm body; he could hear her heart beating and feel her breathing. She ran her fingers through his hair in such a gentle, caring way that he couldn’t have stopped it if he’d wanted to.
He cried.
He cried for the first time since his sister had died. He hadn’t even cried at her funeral, he’d been too busy trying to put on a brave face for Emmy and his mother.
“It’s okay,” she whispered into his ear as he held onto her and let it all out. “I’ve got you.” She planted a soft kiss on the side of his face. “I’m here.”
He’d never allowed himself to be like this with anyone before. So exposed and emotionally naked. And although this moment was so painfully raw, it strangled his throat and squeezed his stomach into knots, it felt good to finally let it all out. And to let it out with her. He’d never felt more vulnerable with anyone before, but also never so safe.
CHAPTEREIGHTY-FIVE
Ryan
It was Friday evening and he’d just dropped Emmy off at her friend’s house for the night. He’d finally agreed to let her sleep over. Poppy had convinced him it was okay after she had befriended the mother at school and given her the third degree, and then gone home and stalked her on all the appropriate social media platforms to make sure she wasn’t a psycho. He smiled to himself whenever he thought about her and as he drove something started to dawn on him.
Poppy had been living in the guest house for two weeks now. They’d made love every night; he’d sneak into the cottage after Emmy had gone to bed and then reluctantly sneak back into the house. They’d eaten dinner together every night, watched TV together, stayed up late talking for hours, they’d even built a small aviary in the garden with Emmy’s help for the bloody pigeon. She’d fetched Emmy from school and taken her shopping and they’d all gone out to movies together. All of this, and he hadn’t even taken her out on their first official date yet. He needed to remedy that, and he needed to do something rather spectacular to make up for it. And he knew just who to call to make it happen. Her name was Ayanda. Best damn assistant he’d ever had in his life. She was almost making his work life bearable—almost. Since Poppy had brought it up two weeks ago, he’d been thinking about it non-stop. He’d never wanted to run his father’s company. That had never been his dream, not that he knew what his dream was. But it had been expected of him, so he’d done it. But with this mall, and all the tensions between the board and the shareholders, he was starting to fantasize about just walking away from it all. But what would he do?
At least Ayanda was relieving some of the pressure on him. He’d had to tell her the truth about Poppy—well, she’d figured it out—and now she too was a member of the “Bring Ramona González back” Facebook page.
He picked up his phone and called her. She answered immediately. “Ayanda, I need you to try and do something for me. It might be impossible, but I suspect if there’s one person who can make it happen, it’s probably you.”
“Where are you taking me?” Poppy asked.
“I told you, I’m taking you on our first date.” He turned and smiled at her. He loved to see her sitting in the passenger seat. In fact, whenever the car was empty, it felt wrong and he would always try to imagine her there.
“But where?” She pulled her legs up onto the seat and crossed them. She always sat like that; he found it funny that she had all this leg room, but preferred to cross her legs on the seat.
“You’ll just have to wait and see,” he said.
“But we’ve been driving for half an hour already, we’ve driven all the way out of the city,” she pressed.
“Do you not like surprises or something?” he asked.
“No, not really.”
“Well, you’re going to have to get used to it. I am full of surprises,” he said.
She burst out laughing. “No, you’re not.”
“What?”
“Oh, please. You eat the same thing for breakfast every morning, you go to work at the exact same time and read the paper in the exact same way—”
“Are you saying I’m boring?” he asked.
“Not boring. Predictable.”
