Unfortunately, I had to ask April to push all my appointments to next week, which once again fucks me over financially. At this rate, I will never break even, let alone get ahead to cover next month’s bills.
“I wish I had known. I could have brought you what you needed sooner.” Furrowing his brow, he says, “If this happens again, will you call me? Not just if you are sick, but if you need anything.”
“I don’t make it a habit of being a damsel in distress, but thank you for the offer.” The last thing I need is to owe another person.
“Beck, I’m serious.” His eyes soften as he searches mine. “You can count on me.”
“Okay,” I agree, pushing the bowl away. This is not a conversation I’m prepared to have. He’s already doing so much.
“Are you sure you’ve had enough?” he asks, standing to take the bowl.
“Yeah, I’m good.” I take a sip of my drink. The cold liquid helps soothe my scratchy throat.
Taking it to the sink, he quickly washes and dries it. When he turns back around, he sees me combing my hair. “Here, let me do that.” He takes the comb from my hand and runs it through my long strands. When he’s finished, I feel him divide it into two sections.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going to French braid your hair. You told me you don’t like to sleep with it down,” he says as he skillfully weaves my hair into a braid down my back.
“You remember that?” I narrow my eyes and scrunch my nose.
“Of course I do,” he says simply as he secures an elastic at the bottom.
“How did you learn?”
“To braid?” he questions as he starts the next side. “A friend taught me when I was a much younger man.”
“Lily?” I ask quietly.
In all the years Ryan has been in my orbit, I have never seen him with a woman, let alone an actual girlfriend. There have never been whispers of an ex-wife or lover. Which, to be honest, is surprising for Emerley. So, having even a vague knowledge of Lily’s existence is intriguing.
He pauses his fingers for a moment before answering. “Yes, she had long hair as a teenager.” Clearing his throat, he secures the end before saying, “I think it’s time for you to get back into bed.”
I have so many more questions, but it’s really none of my business. Sighing, I stand and walk over to my freshly made bed. Yawning, I climb in under the covers.
“I’m going to change into sweats, then I’ll be right back. Do you need anything else?”
“No… Are you staying?” I ask in confusion.
“Of course I am. I told you I would. Be right back.” Grabbing a shopping bag, he carries it into the bathroom and shuts the door.
He’s staying. But why?
As I ponder the question, he returns in grey sweatpants and a sage-green T-shirt. Quickly striding across the room, he fillsa water bottle and grabs a box of tissues before turning off the main overhead light and returning to the bed.
Setting everything down on the nightstand, he says, “Scooch over. I’ll take the outside in case you need anything in the night.”
I must look confused because he says, “I’m staying, Beck. I have been worried all night, so there is no way I’m leaving you now. Your couch is way too small, so I’ll sleep with you. It’s no big deal; we’ve had a sleepover before.”
“How could I forget?” I roll my eyes. “You practically mauled me to death in my sleep.”
“Ahh, there’s your sass; you must be feeling better. Now move over.”
We lie together facing one another, neither of us saying anything. Reaching, I take his hand in mine and hold it between us.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I whisper in the dark.
“Me too. I was really worried about you.”
