Page 18 of Blue Moon

“Why do you have a microwave?” I asked him.

“You said yours was broken.”

“You can’t buy my forgiveness with household appliances,” I said, but I was lying because the ice around my heart was already starting to melt. Ryder had hurt me, but he’d only been able to do that so badly because I’d liked him so much. Over the six weeks we’d spent together, he’d gone from the pesky thug who followed me around to a friend. And secretly, I’d kind of wished he was straight.

Not that I’d ever admit that. I didn’t do relationships. Men couldn’t be trusted, and Ryder had proven that yet again with his “I have a boyfriend” stunt.

“I’m not trying to buy your forgiveness; I just don’t want you to be hungry. Unless you’ve taken cooking lessons since I last saw?—”

He stopped mid-sentence as the intercom buzzed inside my apartment, and I froze.

“Are you expecting anyone?” he asked.

“No.” It came out as a whisper.

Ryder held out his hand. “Key.”

I fished it out of my purse and passed it over. My hand trembled as I did so. When Ryder walked into my sanctuary, whoever was outside leaned on the button again, and the loud bzzzzzzz grated on my last nerve.

“Yeah?” Ryder said.

The guy began singing.

Yum yum, here we come, with noodles and some spice

Our mission’s clear, we’re spreading cheer, we’re doing it with rice

Wontons, dumplings, crispy duck, to your door we’ll drive

Get ready to feast, we aim to please, let your tastebuds come alive!

The delivery was flat, the performance out of tune and lacklustre. This wasn’t a man who loved his job. And right now, I wasn’t enjoying his job either. Why did this keep happening? I mean, free food was good, but having it gifted to me by a stalker took the shine off.

“We didn’t order anything, buddy,” Ryder said.

“This is 502 Cromer Place?”

“It is.”

“Well, that’s what the ticket says. I’m gonna leave the food here on the doorstep. You don’t want to eat it? That’s your problem.”

“Service with a fuckin’ smile,” Ryder muttered.

I wouldn’t be smiling either if I couldn’t hold a note. “Are we just going to leave the food outside?”

“No, I’ll go get it. I want to see if there’s another note.” He turned to Paul and swept an arm toward the elevator. “After you.”

But Paul didn’t leave. Instead, he studied me. “You want me to stick around?”

My relationship with Ryder— No, wait, we didn’t have a relationship. We had a…a mess. And the last thing I wanted was a witness judging my inadequacy at dealing with it. The whole freaking world had seen clips of my meltdown at the restaurant in San Gallicano, and I desperately wanted the uncomfortable parts of my life to stay private from now on. I was so, so sick of having my every move dissected online. Not that I thought Paul would talk, but we were standing in the hallway between thin walls and neighbours, and I didn’t need any more people in my business.

A part of me wanted to give Ryder the finger and sleep on Paul’s couch, but a bigger part of me knew that if Ryder had decided we were going to talk, he wouldn’t be leaving Las Vegas until we did so.

Might as well get it over with.

“Ryder isn’t a danger.” Not to my body, anyway. Only to my heart. “He’s just really annoying.”

Paul didn’t look totally convinced, but he did take a step toward the elevator.

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