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"I would kill to have employees with that kind of work ethic," Ryan says.
"It's really not that good—"
"It is," he says. "You're more impressive than you give yourself credit for, Sophia. But you also need to give yourself time to recover from this. I don't want to see you...I don't know...working yourself ragged at the White Oak or something."
I give him a quizzical look. "You don't owe me anything, Ryan. If anything, I owe you."
"Don't be silly," he says. "You needed help, and I was there."
I sigh, shaking my head. "Fine...but I'm not going to work any less hard."
"Okay," he says. "In that case...I'm going out of town for work for a couple of days, and I was wondering if you would watch Tex."
I frown. "This isn't a ploy to get me to stay somewhere safe and relax, right?"
He snorts. "I'm glad you think of my house as somewhere safe, but no, this is not a ploy. I actually needed a dog sitter. He'll be happier here."
"Fair enough," I say. "I don't have anything lined up. When?"
"Two days from now," he says. "I'll give you the key when I drop you off today."
"I can take the subway."
"Sophia, stop," he says. "It's okay to accept help. I have to insist, in fact, since you're still on pain meds, and I promised you I'd take you by the dry cleaner first."
I roll my eyes playfully. "Okay, fine. You win."
Ryan grins. "I knew you'd come around."
We finish our breakfast in comfortable silence, with Tex occasionally begging for scraps from both of us.
As I scrape the last bit of eggs off my plate, my mind wanders to the events of last night. I can still feel the cold blade of the knife against my skin and the fear that gripped me as the mugger demanded my purse.
And... yeah, I feel a little crazy for the way I fought him off, grabbed his knife, and insisted on hanging onto my tips.
I could have died, given the way I acted.
I was lucky to get out with just a scratch.
"You're still thinking about it, aren't you?" Ryan says, interrupting my thoughts.
I look up to meet his eyes. "What do you mean?"
"The mugging," he clarifies. "I can see it in your eyes."
"I'm fine," I lie, pushing my plate away. "I just need to get back to my routine, that's all."
Ryan purses his lips, unconvinced. "Okay. But if you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here. And if you don't want to talk about it, that's fine too. Tex is a great therapist."
I look down at the dog, who's just waiting for more table scraps. "He really is, isn't he?" I say.
"I'm glad you're okay," Ryan says.
I stare at him, feeling something unsaid between us gnawing a hole in my stomach. I almost bring it up—the way he was looking at me, the way the tension between us simmers over the kitchen island—but I leave my feelings be.
"Well...I guess I'd better get going," I say. "I do need to head home at some point, and I want to get my coat taken care of before it stains for good."
"Gotcha," Ryan nods. "I just need to take Tex out real quick, then we can go."
