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I’ve met Ryan twice. Once he was shirtless and the other time, he was in casual clothes at a bar. But right now? In a fitted suit? Jesus Christ, I can’t live here.
“No friends. No food. No fun. Got it.”
“Well, currently I’m feeling amused.” “What the hell is wrong with you?” she spits. “You’re a monster. And reorganize your goddamn bookshelf. Author’s last name? You’re sick.”
I’m a romance reader. I have a thing for assholes.
“Probably. Those are my I-don’t-take-shit shoes.”
“My favorite color? So glad you asked. Lavender.” “That wasn’t my question.”
Next line item—Rules. Here we go. “Let me guess. Quiet hours start at 8:30 PM, and you conduct a small human sacrifice before every home game that no one can find out about.” “Cute.”
“You’re really no fun. Are you jealous already, Ryan? We’ve only lived together for twelve hours, and you can’t stand to see another man with me. Is that it?”
“To answer your question, he made me cry.” “I’ll kill him,” Rio decides.
Maggie doesn’t know about my fertility concerns, none of these friends do, but her words unknowingly twist the knife in my chest.
My eyes burn from fresh tears wanting to surface because I’m a crier and I can’t help it. Sue me.
New sheets in my favorite color, and I don’t know how to process how I feel about him remembering that.
Mm-hmm. Watch out, Ryan. You keep doing nice things for me like cooking me breakfast and buying me bedding and I’m going to think you want me to stay or something. Gotta get to practice. Nice avoidance, big guy.
“Not so fast, honey bun.” She snaps out of her trance, stopping me as she wraps both arms around my waist. “How am I supposed to be without you for two days? We’ve never been apart, cupcake. I’m going to miss you so much.” She nuzzles her head on my un-iced shoulder, looking up at me with a wink. I’m going to kill her.
“Do you want me to get on my knees and beg or something?” “Now that you say it.” She cocks her head to the side, eyes roaming my length. “I wouldn’t mind knowing what you look like on your knees, Shay.”
“Actually, it’s a Fiddle-leaf fig plant and it’s there because this window faces the east, and the perfect amount of sun comes through here. Bright but not too direct. I have a north facing window. It wouldn’t thrive. So, maybe you could take a breather thanks to the oxygen it’s providing, yeah?”
“You’re awfully cheery for someone who claims not to be a morning person.” “Well, if I let a bad mood take over every time you annoy me in the morning, I’m never going to be happy again.”
“Deal. Although, you could learn a thing or two from my book boyfriends. You do have that broody, mysterious thing going for you already though.” “And that devastatingly handsome thing,” I add for her. She places my breakfast in front of me, a knowing smile pulling at her lips. “You’re all right, I guess.”
“No. Not at all, actually. I think that’d be fun, but I just got out of a six-year relationship. If he finds out—” “Good. Let him think we’re together. Fuck that guy.”
“But we need some ground rules.” “Like?” “Like what we’re going to do once you inevitably fall for me. Do I let you down easy or do I exploit all the newfound emotions you’re going to feel once you realize you’re in love with me?”
“Don’t hate on my books. You could learn a thing or two from them. And they’re much more entertaining than your shelves of masochism.”
So, please, let me go be a social butterfly because I’m starved for attention.”
“I’m not talking about you. I thought one of my closest friends was dating Ryan Shay. Ryan freaking Shay. You know how I feel about him.”
“Because I’ve learned over the years that sometimes people, especially men, are more intimidated than impressed by intelligence.
don’t give a fuck where we are. You could cry all you want at this fundraiser. You could scream, laugh, throw a temper tantrum in front of these people for all I care. I don’t give a fuck, but you’re not crying over him, here or anywhere else.”
Life has a funny way of fulfilling you, even when it isn’t in the way you assumed it’d be.”
There’s always fostering or adoption, and I’m thankful for those possibilities, but
“You’re chaotic as fuck, Blue, but you bring me more peace than anyone else.”
“Stop being nice to me or you’re going to make me cry.” I smile at that. “You always cry.” “I know! But that was really nice to hear, Ryan.”
“You’re right.” She sighs into the phone. “Make your own goddamn dinner, Shay.” A content laugh rumbles in my chest. “There’s my girl.”
“Hey, Blue, I kind of missed talking to you for three days. Let’s not do that again.”
Are we still pretending? I’d love to know.
I have absolutely no fight left in me, which really is a shame. It’s one of my favorite things to do, volley back and forth with him.
I think he’d treat my heart with kindness.
“I love this for us, Vee. Watching your brother squirm like a love-sick puppy. Mushy motherfucker.” “Fuck you very much.”
“But I spend a lot of your money.” “Someone needs to.” “And I’m messy. You don’t like messy.” “I like your mess.” “And I’m needy. I have no idea how to be alone.” “Good. I don’t want you to be alone. I want you to be with me.”
But not before I notice the scraps of papers that make up our relationship pinned back on the fridge.
again. Eyes searching, they soften as he watches me. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, but Blue, you’re the most inconvenient thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“Eyes on me,
“There you go,” he praises. “That’s my girl.”
I’m too weak a man to pretend as if she’s not single-handedly repairing all the broken pieces.
“Sometimes the quietest love is the loudest,”
He doesn’t need to say it and I don’t have to hear it. I already know. It happened so quietly, so effortlessly.
life we’ve built even when we thought we were pretending. I want you in our house because you’ve made it a home. I want your mess and your chaos. I want your genuine smiles, the ones you wear when you’re around my sister, the hockey team, and me. I want you happy, and I want to be the reason you are. I want you to choose me.”
“You deserve the grand gestures, the big moments. I’m not great at making a show. I don’t like the attention, but if that’s what you need to understand how much I want you in my life, I’ll do it. Fuck, I should’ve done this in front of a crowd or standing in the rain or something romantic instead of hiding away and saying it. God…”
I just need your quiet love because those moments are the loudest declarations I’ve ever heard.
I will burn the world down to protect her and I’ll proudly wave the match, so everyone knows I’m the one who did it.”
“You know that jersey you’ve got with my last name on it? When you see it hanging there in your closet, let it serve as a reminder to you, that soon enough, it’ll be her last name too.”
“I’m heading to Michael’s.” “And who the fuck is Michael?” Huh?
“Why do you like reading fiction so much?” he asks without a hint of judgment. “How else would you get to live a thousand lives in the span of only one? The beauty of fiction is that it makes you feel things on a visceral level. You can cry with those characters, laugh with them. It teaches you to look at another’s perspective, to have empathy.
