Ryan is back quickly and hands me my coffee and a bag. Peeking inside, I find a single cupcake box. My eyes water again with his thoughtfulness.
The drive back to my trailer is silent. I don’t even feel like putting on music. All I want right now is to crawl into bed and hide under the covers. Maybe rewatch the documentary that I missed most of yesterday. If I fall asleep again, so be it.
“You know you can tell me anything, right? I’ll even turn off my therapist brain for you,” he says with a wink, reminding me of the first time he came to my house.
“I know I can. But not today. I’m tired and could really use a nap.”
“Do you want me to stay? You know I’m a great cuddler.”
“The best, but I think I want to be alone. Besides, you’re getting a little needy, don’t you think? Always wrapped around me like an anaconda.”
He shakes his head at my poor attempt at humour. “Okay, I’ll let you go. If you need anything, call me.”
“I know. I know. You live right down the road and drive right past twice a day.”
“Go to bed, Trouble. I’ll check on you later.”
“See you later, Pretty Boy.”
Twenty-One
“Hey, girl. How are you feeling?” April asks when I arrive at work as scheduled Monday morning. “You look a lot better than when you left on Friday.”
“Much better. I never get that sick. Thank you for rescheduling all my appointments. Were there any problems?” I ask, leaning my arm on the counter.
“None.” She shakes her head. “I added one small design to your schedule today and then split the rest up and booked them over the next two weeks.”
That’s a relief. Missing work on Friday was bad enough, and if I couldn’t reschedule those appointments, I would have been in even worse financial trouble.
At least I won’t have to worry about groceries anytime soon. My cupboards and refrigerator are overflowing from Ryan’s late-night shopping spree. I want to ask April about why Vaughan has a guy that gets stuff done, but that would lead to questions about how I know. Maybe it’s from watching too many true-crime documentaries, but my mind immediately goes to organized crime. I laugh to myself—as if.
Ryan has texted me multiple times to check on me. I have assured him I’m fine but keep all our conversations short and sweet. How do I tell him I need space to think when he has been so good to me?
The day slips by quickly. Before I know it, my last client is heading out the door, and I’m cleaning up my station, getting ready for tomorrow. It has mostly been a good day. All my clients arrived on time and paid in full. Unfortunately, anytime my brain was idle, I heard Braden’s words from yesterday echoing in my ears. Does Ryan really see me as a project?
“Beck?” Logan raps his knuckles on my door. “Can I talk to you for a minute before you go?”
“Sure, what’s up?” I ask, sitting down on my stool and gesturing to an extra chair.
He steps inside and sits across from me. Rubbing the back of his neck, he says, “So, I’ve been thinking…”
“Are you okay? Did it hurt?” I mock. Logan and I get along great, but I give him a hard time as much as possible. Serves him right for hurting my best friend.
Rolling his eyes, he takes a large breath and lets it go. “Are you done?”
“Proceed,” I chuckle. “What have you been thinking about?”
“Hannah and I are getting tired of bouncing back and forth between the yellow house and her cabin. I think we want to settle down in one place and call it home.”
“Is she ready to live with you?” It’s a valid question. They’ve only gotten back together recently after spending years apart.
“I think so. We’ve talked about it. I would never ask her to move to town with me. The cabin is important to her, and she loves living on the water.”
“So, what’s the problem?” I ask, picking up a bottle of lotion I keep on my desk and applying it to my hands.
“There’s no problem; I have an idea.”
“Okay…are you going to tell me what it is?”
