I silence it without reading.
Natalie notices. "Everything okay with the shop?"
"Fine. Just end-of-year stuff." The building loan. The deadline. The impossible amount I need. But that problem feels insurmountable. Ryder... Ryder I might be able to have.
"Nothing I can fix right now."
Natalie's eyes narrow, but she doesn't push. "So. Back to the thing you can maybe fix. What are you going to do about Ryder?"
After Natalie leaves, I pace the shop. Her words echo in my head.When was the last time you fought for what you wanted?
The answer is: never. Not really. I fought for the shop, yes. But everything else? I've always waited to be chosen. Waited for things to be safe before I reached for them. Made myself convenient and easy and small enough that people wouldn't mind keeping me around.
Waited for my mom to be proud before she died. Waited for Connor to see me as an adult. Waited for customers to validate my business. Waited for Ryder to notice me.
But what has that gotten me? A string of relationships that fizzled because I was too afraid to ask for what I needed. A lifetime of wondering if people actually wanted me or just tolerated me. A constant fear that wanting too much would make people leave.
I'm twenty-seven years old. I own a business. I pay my bills. I survived losing my mother. I'm an adult.
When did I stop acting like one?
The lunch crowd comes and goes. I help customers, ring up purchases, wrap gifts in cream paper with forest green ribbon. My hands know the routine, but my mind keeps circling back to Natalie's challenge.
Yesterday, Ryder called in professional favors for me. Risked his recovery for me. Held me like I was something precious. Almost kissed me in front of where Connor could walk in any second.
That's not nothing. That's not just being nice.
That's him putting me first.
And I've been too scared to choose him back.
By three o'clock, I've made a decision.
I pull out my phone. Stare at Ryder's name in my contacts. My thumb hovers over it.
This is ridiculous. I'm a grown woman. I can send a text to a man I've known my entire life.
Except it's not that simple. Because sending this text means admitting I want something. Means putting myself out there.Means risking rejection and heartbreak and all the things I've spent my life trying to avoid.
But yesterday he risked his career for me. The least I can do is risk my pride.
I type before I can talk myself out of it.
"Are you awake?"
My thumb hovers over send. This is it. This is me choosing. Me fighting for what I want instead of waiting for someone else to decide I'm worth the effort.
I hit send before I lose my nerve.
The three dots appear right away. He's typing. Stopping. Typing again.
Finally: "Yes."
One word. But I read volumes into it. The hesitation. The question. The same uncertainty I'm feeling.
I type: "Can we talk?"
The dots appear again. Longer this time.
