Page 82 of Special Delivery

CHAPTER FORTY

Paige

We stuff our faces with food, sprawled over my couch. There’s a TV show playing in the background, but I don’t pay it any attention.

“You never told me how you got into writing,” Ryan states, wiping the salt off his fingers.

“Writing was a part of me since I can remember.” I shrug. “I was one of those kids who filled out a diary every single day. It was easier, most days, to put the thoughts on paper than to keep them inside. A teacher recognized my love for it and started mentoring me. But it wasn’t until college that I decided it was something I actually want to do in life.”

“Was it a great aha moment? I’m still searching for one myself.”

“No. It was another teacher. He, uhm…told me I was truly talented and forced me to nurture it.” My gaze drops to the food in my lap. I pop a fry into my mouth and chew on it absentmindedly.

“Well, that’s still nice. He must have been a wonderful teacher.”

I scoff loudly. “Not really. Turned out it was a ploy to get into my pants.”

My tongue quicker than my brain, the words spill out of me of their own accord. It’s more than I’ve ever spoke about it to another person, other than Jordan and Emma. My defenses are probably down from the three orgasms I’ve received.

Ryan leans toward me, his jaw suddenly tight. “What?”

My inner turmoil still rages, but I continue speaking, “It wasn’t like that. He was my teacher during my first year of college, but we didn’t start dating until grad school.”

“That doesn’t make it any better, Paige.” His face shows genuine concern, and for a second, I’m left wondering why the hell he cares.

He cares about you, Paige, you must’ve noticed that.

“It sounds worse than it was.” The words taste bitter as they leave my mouth.

The beginning maybe wasn’t as bad, but the ending surely was. So is wondering if I was actually talented or if that was just a thing he said to young girls he wanted to fuck.

“It sounds like he used his position of power, that’s how it sounds. And I don’t like it one bit.” Anger rolls off him in waves, flexing his arms and scrunching his nose. As usual, a need to make everything right grows within me.

“Yeah, it wasn’t the best thing ever. But it wasn’t against the rules since he wasn’t my professor anymore. Besides, I was an adult, capable of making my own decisions.” When all else fails, blame it on the poor young woman’s lack of judgement.

He turns to me, the corners of his eyes dropping slightly. “No, Paige. It wasn’t your fault. And I’m sorry you went through that.”

Moisture prickles under my eyelids. I’m not sure if he’d be so understanding if he knew the entire story, but for now, I revel in his comfort.

“It was a long time ago.” I wave him off, hopefully drying my tears. “How about you? Did you always know you wanted to be in finance?”

“Acquisitions. And no.”

He places the food bag onto the coffee table, scooting his ass right next to mine. He wraps an arm around my shoulder, making me lean my head on his.

“I never had a clear vision of what I wanted to do. I just wanted to do it right, you know?” His hand runs up and down my arm soothingly. “Get good grades, get into a good college, and get a good job that can sustain both me and Mom one day. She raised me on her own, and I didn’t want to be another thing she had to worry about. Funny enough, I’m now thirty and she’s worried as hell for me.” He lets out a self-deprecating half-chuckle.

“It’s different. It’s not like you chose to have the headaches.”

“Didn’t I?” He glances at me. “Because from what I can tell, my body has been telling me to stop for years. The very first merger I did, where I had to lay off over a hundred and fifty people, I came home and threw up. I vomited for a week straight before it turned into a rock in my stomach. The rock grew smaller and smaller before I learned not to notice it. I worked a job I hated, doing shit I disagreed with, and I haven’t stopped until my body physically forced me to.”

The weight of his words falls heavily on my shoulders. I know exactly what he means. Caring about the expectations of others, not wanting to be a burden—those are all feelings I deal with daily.

“It takes so much guts to leave everything you’ve built, no matter how shitty, and start again. I’m proud of you.”

“I’m proud of you, too.” He presses a kiss to the top of my hair, and a shiver runs through me. It’s a simple statement, but one that holds so much weight.

I wake up with Ryan’s arms wrapped tightly around me. His deep, even breaths let me know he’s still asleep, as his hot skin keeps me warm. My eyes close, enjoying the moment. His large arm is a welcome weight on my body, wrapping me in a cozy cocoon. It’s the most comfortable I’ve felt in probably ever, and I don’t want to leave this bed.