Page 30 of Runaway Bride’s Husband

“No,” he snapped, the word dripping with exasperation. “I’ve lived it, Maggie. I know what all those things are like. I don’t want to drag you out of here, but I can’t leave you here alone in good conscience either.”

He was breathing hard by the time he was done, his eyes a little wilder now, and it occurred to me then that saying all that stuff out loud must’ve reopened some old wounds for him. Ryan would probably never admit it out loud, or maybe he didn’t even know it himself, but he was carrying a lot of trauma and a healthy amount of bitterness over what’d happened to them.

Not that I could blame him. The picture he’d just painted hadn’t been pretty. In fact, it’d been downright grim. Scary as hell. While I was sure it’d also been entirely realistic, it’d sounded like something out of nightmare.

Because I didn’t have any detergent. I didn’t have clothes to wear to work. I had one more box of mac and cheese and some noodles, and maybe half a bottle of milk, but that was it. The shower I’d taken this morning had been ice cold and the water pressure hadn’t promised that there’d be any water at all by the evening. The power was still out and being here alone in the dark with only that raccoon for company wouldn’t be fun.

“Okay,” I whispered after a beat, not above admitting defeat in this situation. “I’ll come back to the city with you, but only if you promise to help me figure out what my grandfather was hiding.”

He groaned. “Is that seriously the most pressing issue right now?”

“Yes.” I spun back toward the door. “I’ll only need five minutes.”

“I’ll wait inside.”

When I walked in, he was less than half a step behind me, planting himself in the open doorway and waiting there until I returned with one small bag. Ryan’s blue eyes widened a little when he looked at it.

“Is that all?”

“Yes.”

He frowned. “Fuck, Maggie. You really wanted to stay here with only enough stuff to fill a duffel the size of a toiletry bag?”

I shrugged. “I would’ve made it work.”

“Where’s your wedding dress?”

I smiled as I brushed past him. “I left it in a bathroom at LAX.”

Marching straight to his car, I tossed my tiny bag into the passenger footwell and climbed in, slamming the door behind me. As I twisted to buckle up, I saw him disappear inside for a moment before he came back out and shut the front door.

He climbed in behind the steering wheel. “Did you even think to check that the stove was off?”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.” He sighed, started the engine, and backed out of the driveway. “Also, for future reference, a dress like that is worth a lot of money. You might not have gotten full value from a pawn shop, but you would’ve gotten something.”

With that, he fell silent, leaving me to think about what he’d said. I hadn’t even considered selling the dress, but I probably should’ve. Crap, I’m really not very good at this.

Ryan didn’t say another word as we drove through Massachusetts, then Connecticut, and eventually, when the familiar sprawl of New York began to appear, he finally glanced at me again. “Where to?”

“Do you have a girlfriend?” I asked.

He scoffed like it was the most ridiculous question he’d ever heard. “No.”

“Roommates?”

“No.” His features scrunched like I’d just asked him whether he shared his underwear. “Of course not.”

I leaned back in the seat and turned to face the window. “Your place, then. Since you offered.”

CHAPTER 13

RYAN

My apartment wasn’t a billionaire’s penthouse, but it had been so expensive that it’d made my head spin when I’d had to pay for it. Hell, I still occasionally experienced chest pain when I remembered the price tag.

On the other hand, there were places selling in the same building now for significantly more, so I kept telling myself it’d been a great investment. That eased the pain a little. The location was good, the view was great, and the building had a doorman and a gym.