“I mean, I think that’s the goal, eventually, but I figured I would get my own place with Duke at first.” I stay quiet. He keeps going. “I could sign a year-long lease or maybe I could sublet for a few months. I’d have to find a job here first anyways. That could take a while. I know Duke and I are a lot and obviously this is all happening quickly, but I don’t want us to do long distance again. I feel like we should give this a real shot and if moving to New York is what that means, then that’s what I’ll do, if you want me to.”
He’s rambling. He’s hard-core rambling and I have to smile as I try to wrap my head around the situation.
Ryan swallows, a look of adorable anxiety crossing his face. “Is that smile from thinking about how maybe you could potentially want the same thing, or was it more of an all-right-I-now-need-to-change-my-name-and-number-and-start-a-new-life-in-a-foreign-land kind of smile?”
My entire body fills with so much petrified excitement that I think it might spill out of my ears. “It was the wanting-the-same thing bit.”
“That’s good to hear.” Ryan’s hand slips into mine under the table. His eyes are bright and his ears are red and I suddenly get Maggie’s penchant for bursting into song. “I guess second time’s the charm.”
“That’s not a thing.”
“It is now.” He picks up a champagne flute from off the table and gestures at me to do the same. “Cheers, Sullivan.”
I tap my glass to his with a reckless smirk, delirious in my own happiness and giving zero thought to anything else outside this moment. “Here we go again.”
Having been home from the rehearsal dinner for a half hour, I’ve come down from my Ryan-wants-to-move-to-New-York high long enough to realize that I have to tell him about Italy. As in now. I’m a pile of nerves and I have no clue how he’s going to react.
I get up from the couch when he walks into the apartment with a none-too-happy Duke huffing and puffing behind him from their before-bed walk.
“Hey,” I call out, holding my hands behind my back as Ryan unclasps the leash.
“Hey. You look comfy.”
I look down at my soft gray pajama pants and my emerald T-shirt.
“Yeah, whenever I have to get all dressed up for something I morph back into my true form in a matter of seconds once I get home. It’s my superpower.”
“I like it,” he says, seeming distracted. He’s breathing heavily but quickly as he crosses the room to me, so much so that I grab his hand.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I know he’s not. I sit back down on the couch and pull him down beside me, watching as he rubs sweaty palms against the front of his pant legs.
“You look on edge,” I say.
“I know, I’m sorry.” I try to smile and twist my hands together in my lap. Ryan notices. “You seem a little on edge yourself.”
I tug him closer. My grip is tight and my eyes are worried. “Honestly, I kind of am.”
“I am, too,” he admits. “I know I said at the rehearsal dinner that we’d talk about everything when we got home, so now is as good a time as any. Let me start by saying I—”
“Can I talk first?” I ask, interrupting. “I mean, it’s nothing crazy but something important slipped my mind and I think we should discuss it. In retrospect, I should have brought it up earlier, but I didn’t and now...yeah.”
“Okay,” Ryan says hesitantly, seeming confused.
“Right. So a few months ago, I was having a bit of a tough time with writing. I had just gone through my breakup and I was looking for a change of scenery, so I decided to take a trip.”
“Oh, yeah? Where’d you go?”
“No, I didn’t go anywhere then. I booked a trip that I’m going on soon. Two days after Cristina’s wedding. To Italy.”
Ryan moves forward on the couch, turning in towards me. I can see the underlying concern in his eyes. “How long are you going for?”
I pause. “Six months.”
Ryan’s face falls. My heart is pounding one second and slowing the next. Stopping and starting at the same time.
“Six months?” he asks.
