“No shit?” she barks. “What the hell did he want?”
I flop onto the couch and tuck my legs to my chest. “He just showed up out of the blue like nothing ever happened, talking about how he’d made a mistake and wanted another chance.”
“Oh my god. The nerve of that asshole. Please tell me you slammed the door in his face.”
“I wish. I only let him in because I wanted an explanation.” I sigh, rubbing my fingers across my forehead. “Then he kissed me, and I kneed him in the balls.”
Sasha’s laugh is viciously delighted. “That’s my girl! I hope you made the bastard cry.”
“Then Ryder burst in like some avenging angel. You should have seen his face, Sash. He looked like he was going to murder Eric with his bare hands.”
“Holy shit! That’s awesome!”
I grin into the phone. “Fuck yeah, it was. So about his stuff. He told me it all showed up in his apartment above the tattoo shop last night. Said he had a feeling it would be there.” I pick at a loose thread on my T-shirt—Ryder’s T-shirt. “He came over because he got my voicemail and was worried.”
“Oh, wow. I guess that’s even more proof he’s real and is going to stay. So what happened? Did they fight? Please tell me Ryder beat the shit out of him.”
“He slammed Eric against the wall and threatened him, but he didn’t actually hit him.” An evil smile forms on my face. “Eric was practically crapping his pants by the time he left. And he was pissed.”
“Good,” Sasha says with satisfaction. “That’s the least he deserves after what he did to you. So what about Ryder? Is he still there?”
My smile fades. “No. He said he still needs more time. Wants to make sure what he’s feeling is real and not just... magic or whatever.”
“Damn. I sure hope he figures it out soon.”
“I hope so too.”
FIFTY-FIVE
noia
It’s beena week since Ryder left.
A week of texts that say nothing more than “I’m still here,” “Good morning,” or “Sleep tight, kitten.”
A week of staring at my laptop, unable to write a single word.
“That’s it,” I announce. Goonie, who’s sprawled across my desk like a furry paperweight, chirrups up at me. “I’m done.”
No more writing. No more obsessing over Ryder. No more waiting by the phone.
I need a break. From all of it.
Two hours later, I’m walking into Serenity Day Spa.
The receptionist greets me with a smile and checks her computer. “Full day package?” she confirms.
“Yes, please. Massage, facial, mani-pedi, the works.” I hand over my credit card. “And any add-ons you’ve got.”
“Excellent.” Her smile widens. “We’ll start with a detoxifying mud wrap.”
By the time I leave the spa five hours later, I feel like a new woman—relaxed, pampered, and more centered than I have been in weeks. On the drive home, I stop at the bookstore toload up on some new reading material. Needing a break from romance, I grab a few mystery-thrillers.
The next day, I sign up for yoga classes at a studio the next town over. The instructor, a woman named Maya, welcomes me with a warm smile.
“First time?” she whispers as she helps me adjust my downward dog.
“That obvious, huh?” I grunt, doing my best to keep my heels on the mat.
