Page 42 of Untying the Knot
“Well, yes, you’d be missing out on an amazing date with me, but more than that, you’re missing out on the opportunity to share the burden of your childhood with someone else. You know you don’t have to carry that baggage by yourself. There are people out there willing to help you carry it. And the right person won’t just carry it. They’ll unpack it until there isn’t much baggage left.”
She hugs her legs tighter as she looks away. “No one wants to do that with me. Trust me.” She sighs and drops her legs to the ground before standing. “Well, I should get back home. I’m sure you have an early-morning practice you have to get to.”
She’s distancing herself. It doesn’t take an expert to realize what’s going on. She opened herself up, allowed herself to be vulnerable, and now before she can be coaxed beyond her comfort zone, she’s shutting down. That’s okay because, even though this is the end of the evening, I know this isn’t the end for me.
I stand as well and take her wrapper, then toss them in the trash before I meet back up with her. I loop my arm around her shoulders again, and she leans into me as I work our way back to the main road.
“Need a taxi?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “No. I live around the corner.”
“Want me to walk you home?”
She glances up at me and smirks. “Although appealing, if you walked me home, I might be tempted to invite you up to my place, and I think you and I both know that’s not a good idea.”
I face her and take her hand in mine. “Yeah, because it would be boring, right?”
“Very, very boring. Wouldn’t find satisfaction in any way.”
“Not even a little.” I smile at her and then bring her hand to my mouth. I place a light kiss across her knuckles and then step away. “So I guess I’ll see you around?”
“Yeah.” She takes a step back too. “I’ll see you around.”
And with one final wink, I turn away from her, hands stuffed in my pockets, and head back toward my apartment.
* * *
MYLA
“What happened with Bisley last night?”Nichole asks as she makes her way from her bedroom to the kitchen, dressed for her day, looking pristine with her makeup and hair done. She has a touch of pink to her lips today, which is her post-sex shade. I don’t have to ask to know what happened last night. I’m just wondering how many times.
I’m sitting at the kitchen island, coffee in hand, feeling like I drank a liter of vodka when I know that’s not the case at all. The hangover I’m experiencing is from spending a night with Ryot Bisley. He’s like a drug. Each time I’ve seen him, I’ve felt drawn to him. And that’s scary because I’ve never been drawn to anyone, nor have I ever—and I mean ever—opened up to someone like I did last night. The only one who knows about my parents is Nichole. So why I felt the need to reveal so much of myself to Ryot last night tells me there’s something special about him.
“Nothing happened,” I say as she pours herself a cup of coffee.
“What do you mean nothing happened?” she asks. “You were practically sitting on his lap last night.”
“Nothing happened. We got ice cream, talked in the park, and then I called it a night.”
“You did?” she asks, surprised. “This coming from the girl who has been drooling over the man’s Instagram ever since he left Phoenix.”
“I haven’t been drooling over his Instagram,” I say, even though I might have been.
“Okay.” Nichole rolls her eyes. “What’s the holdup? If he’s anything like his brother, you’re going to want to ask him to spend the night.” She sighs. “Trust me on this.”
“Yeah, there’s no doubt in my mind he would be amazing in bed.”
“Okay, so what’s the problem? You realize how crazy it is that we ran into them again, right?”
“Yes, I know.”
“So . . .”
I groan and rest my head on the island as I mutter, “I like him, Nichole.”
“Um . . . what was that?”
I lift my head and look her in the eyes. “I like him . . .like himlike him.”
