Page 70 of A Bookish Story

“It’s silly but my illusions are shattered.”

“No, it’s not silly. We only have to make sure we see things as they are and not how we want them to be.”

But if I haven’t seen life the way I should have been all along, it means I’ve fed my own illusions. The picture I have in my mind, that moment in time when everything was perfect…maybe it wasn’t real.

I know Ryan is not wrong, and something in his words, the gentleness in them… I burst into tears.

Ryan is at my side in an instant. “Luci…no. Look, listen, everything is going to be okay.”

He’s not one of those men that runs the other way when a woman cries. Or worse, gets angry and uncomfortable and begins to question what he did to cause the outburst as he desperately tries to stop it. Ryan understands he’s not at the root of this problem, or the center of the universe. That’s another way he’s different from all the men I’ve met before him.

He’s holding me, and it feels so perfect, small strokes of his hand up and down my back while I’m sobbing into his chest. I thought I was done with crying and I’m generally not an overtly emotional person except when I’m writing. I’m humiliated by my actions, but I can’t stem the dam. It could be I’m crying about more than my mother and Eddie. Maybe it’s my father, and the staggering loss of him, which is still such a deep ache, or maybe it’s Chris, and my disillusionment with romance. Either way, it’s Ryan who’s got me in his arms and is ignoring the knocks and rings of the doorbell. As I’ve said before, his powers of concentration are enviable.

“I bet it’s the pizza,” I say, sniffling and pulling away.

“Right.”

He heads to the door and I vaguely hear sounds of him speaking to the delivery person, then making his way back into the living room.

I’m curled up on his sofa in the fetal position when Ryan comes back into the room.

“Why don’t you stay here tonight?” He hooks his thumb to the hallway. “Take the guest room.”

“Thanks, I’m not ready to go home.”

Eddie and my mother both now want to talk to me and I don’t want to listen. I’m still busy rewriting history.

The smells of fresh-baked dough, melty cheese, and spicy pepperoni are enticing. And distracting. Mami and I skipped dinner, which is something she probably does often.

“I guess that pizza won’t eat itself.” I sit up, wiping my eyes with the backs of my hands.

“Hungry?” His smile is easy. Slow. “Those tears must have worked up an appetite.”

“Well, I will never turn down a carb.”

Ryan walks away and comes back with a pair of sweats. “They’re probably too big but you don’t want to stay in your damp clothes.”

“Thank you,” I say, and head to the bathroom to change.

When I come out, dressed in the comfy sweats that smell like Ryan, I catch his quick, appraising look before he motions for me to sit down to have some pizza. For the next few minutes, we eat while watching While You Were Sleeping on a streaming network. It’s a weird combination of hanging out with someone who is part Sofia, arguably my best friend, and part super cute guy I’m attracted to. In a romance novel, Ryan and I would be the classic workplace romance if we ever got that far. Not that I think we ever will, but the more time I spend alone with him, the more I fantasize. Now that I’ve been in his arms, my imagination has gone into overdrive. His arms are strong, and he smells clean and fresh.

Sofia keeps texting me and I know she won’t stop until I respond:

Don’t worry, I’m fine. You can tell everyone I walked to Ryan’s house and I’m going to stay the night in the guest room. I’m not ready to talk to them yet.

Sofia:

Get it, girl!

I roll my eyes and put my phone away. Enough with the sexy-times innuendos. No more texting tonight. A few minutes into the movie, I nudge Ryan, who is sitting beside me on the sofa. At the appropriate time, such that I couldn’t have planned it better were I writing it, we simultaneously say, “The lean!”

“I don’t know how I ever forgot about this movie. It’s like my favorite of all time,” I say. “And her name is even Lucy.”

He quirks a brow. “Interesting, too, that it’s an almost love triangle. Two brothers.”

“But one is in a coma, so it doesn’t count.”

“Why do you think she loves him?” Ryan says.