Page 83 of A Bookish Story

“You’re right, we didn’t get closure. I’m not willing to take you back like nothing ever happened, but I’m open to seeing what comes next if I can ever manage to forget what you did.”

“That’s all I want.” His voice breaks, he stands and straightens to his full height and brushes off the legs of his khakis. “I’m going to show you why you should pick me again.”

“Right. But you also have to give me room, because a lot has happened to me since you’ve been gone.”

“I want to hear all about it.” He bends to leaf through the box of the few items he left behind with me. “I can’t believe I gave everything else away. That was the sign of a fever dream if there ever was one.”

“Actually, I think it was one of the best things to come out of this.” I clear my throat. “Now, let me explain something to you about the vodka.”

It turns out Chris is both shocked and in awe of what I’ve accomplished while he was gone. He leaves an hour later, trying for a kiss, which I block. Not going to happen. I don’t feel that guilty about the vodka. Chris forgave my lapse in judgment in pouring it down the drain in a moment of anger and passion. He agrees this was nothing less than he deserved and for the first time I wonder if this attitude change might actually stick. It doesn’t mean I’ll take him back but it’s nice to know he’s learned something.

He’s promised he will “show me” he’s a better man and he’s going to come to the book signing with all his friends to support me. I don’t tell him that with a book like Soulmates, I hardly need the support of whatever gym bros he can round up. I suppose it’s nice to know he’s putting in the effort. It will take a lot of forgiveness I’m not sure I have, but if I’d begged someone while crying on bended knees, I would hope they’d at least be a friend to me. That’s all I can give him now, or ever. I’m being the mature one here because he deserves far worse and I know it.

I explain to Chris that my career is my focus now. He promises he understands and encourages me to go for my dream, the way he thought he’d gone after his. He was wrong, but my dream might work out better. I try not to remember part of his dream was Nadia. He’s conveniently neglecting this fact but I’m not likely to forget it.

The next week is a flurry of activities as Ryan and I both write side by side, and I exchange a flurry of email messages with Pepper as we prepare for the book signing downtown. I decide not to tell Ryan about Chris because it isn’t like we’re back together. Ryan wants me to resolve this, anyway, if we’re ever going to have another one of those hot kisses. For now, we’ve got a work groove like no other.

Every once in a while, we’ll look up at each other from across the room and we both smile. Each time my heart flutters like I’m sixteen years old. There’s another feeling, far from pity, that draws me to him like a magnet.

Then there are the moments we both look up at the same time. One of us laughs, usually me, and the other follows suit.

“Why did I decide to be a writer?” Ryan says, mid-laugh.

“You like torture?”

“Must be.”

Now, Ryan is in the kitchen getting himself a drink and a few minutes later I decide I also need some water. He’s heading back and as he passes by our hands brush against each other, our fingers touching. It’s the only contact we’re allowing. I don’t know how Ryan manages to make the smallest gestures so enticing. I’m pretty sure it will be years before I stop thinking about that one kiss we shared.

During a break I tell Ryan about my mother and Eddie.

Ryan quirks a brow. “And when did you decide to be okay with this?”

It’s harder to explain the decision I made to be fine with their relationship. It was unexpected but my mother had a huge part in it. In the end, it wasn’t pity, but my eternal respect for true love.

“My mother surprised me. We were having dinner and she got very upset about—” I stop myself, wondering how much of this I should censor for his sake. I violated the NDA but with people I trust will not repeat it.

“What?” he prompts.

“I’m sorry, but I let it slip that I didn’t actually write the book. But she’s my mother and knows how much trouble I’d get in. She thought maybe you were taking advantage of me in our arrangement. I assured her she’s wrong.”

I can tell he’s concerned when he leans forward and pinches the back of his neck. “We won’t tell anyone. That’s what I worried about. I didn’t ever want you to feel that way.”

“Please, no, don’t even go there. You haven’t taken advantage of me. Apparently we’re both in agreement that I should never follow in her footsteps.”

I briefly explain to Ryan that my mother has finally come to realize how much of her own self she gave up to please an entire industry, and a man.

Ryan removes his glasses and rubs his eyes. “That’s got to be a tough thing for her to admit.”

“I’m proud of her. I never realized how deeply she regrets her own choices. She really only ever had my father who accepted her just as she was. And Eddie.”

Ryan doesn’t say anything but simply studies me with that blue-eyed gaze as if every word coming out of my mouth is something to revere. Something to treasure and value.

“When I think of Eddie, how much I love him, and how long he’s waited to be with my mother…I want to cry.” My voice breaks. “I would never want to be in the way of him having everything he’s ever wanted.”

There’s utter tenderness in Ryan’s eyes and I’m worried if he says a single word, the kindness in his voice will break me. I will not cry in front of Ryan. Again.

“I would wait a long time for you,” he says, and rather than tears, it’s utter shock that runs through me and wakes me up.