Page 42 of When I Had You

“I don’t think Ryatt is your real last name.”

“It’s not.”

“What?” The shock in her voice resounds through the connection. “It’s not? Do people know this? Is it public knowledge?”

“It’s not a secret, but it’s not something I advertise either.”

There’s a pause, but then she asks, “What’s your last name?”

“You don’t do any research, do you?”

“I do plenty for characters or restaurant reviews. Research on people I know is something I avoid if I can. I’d rather know the real them.”

“Sounds like you’re catching on to the manipulation of the media.”

“If I didn’t prior, I do after the other night. Today is the first time I feel like I can breathe a little.” The sound of her breathing rushes forward as if she’s sat down. “There was only one encounter. I consider that a win.”

“What happened?”

“A photographer jumped out of the bushes when I was walking on the sidewalk earlier. Scared the crap out of me.”

“Their behavior is out of hand. He would have been on the ground had he done it to me.”

“Well . . .” Soft laughter echoes across the line. I like her voice, but I love hearing her laughter. “I did throw my iced coffee at him, but that was pure reflex.”

I fill the glasses with chilled tea and pull a cup from the cabinet. “Tell me you didn’t help clean him up.”

“My manners got the best of me.”

A disappointed sigh releases from my chest. “They’ll never learn if you’re kind to them.”

There’s only a brief silence before she says, “I don’t want to turn into some harder version of myself. I get why it happens, but I’d rather be kind than miserable.”

“See, it’s not a stretch for me, so I guess that’s one of the many ways we differ, babe.”

A huff hits my ears, and she says, “I’m starting to think you’re not as bad as the rumors make you out to be.”

“Guess you’ll never know.”

That gets her laughing. “I don’t know. Maybe this is blossoming into a beautiful friendship.”

The suggestion of being friends with her isn’t as bad as I thought when we first met. I say, “Warren.”

“Warren?”

“That’s my real last name.”

I don’t know why I imagine her with a big grin on her face—victorious or sincere—but I guess I’ll never know. “That’s a good name.”

“Thanks.”

“Do I get the story behind Ryatt?”

“One day. Over drinks, maybe.”

“That sounds more like a date, Mr. Ryatt. Are you asking me out?”

There are times in your life when you are surefire set on an idea because it feels right. This feels right.

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