Page 152 of The Right Move

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INDY

Indy

I need a daily update from you. Is Ryan okay? He’s barely talked to me.

Stevie

I think he’s scared, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.

He’s got nothing to be scared of and he would know that if he would talk to me.

I know, Ind, but insecurities don’t exactly work that way.

It’s been a lonely few days, regardless that I’ve been on the road for work, surrounded by friends.

It no longer matters if I’m in a room full of people. If Ryan isn’t around, I’m lonely. And right now, not only is he not around, but he’s also not talking to me much either.

He’s not mad at me, and he’s not shutting me out, he’s simply giving me space to process the conversation with Alex. I don’t need space. I’ve told him exactly that, but the times we have talked over the last few days haven’t lasted long enough for me to explain what happened.

Part of me genuinely believes he thinks if he gives me enough time to explain, I’ll end up telling him I’m going back to my ex. But if Ryan gave me the time of day, I’d tell him how proud of myself I am for how I handled that conversation and reaffirm just how obsessed I am with the man I’m living with.

I would tell him that when Alex started crying, the old me would’ve jumped in to save him the second I saw he was upset, would’ve done anything in her power to make him happy, but the new me didn’t feel the burden of that responsibility anymore.

I would tell him that when Alex explained why he slept with someone else—because we were together for so long, because we had been best friends since we were five, and I was the only girl he had ever been with. Because he wanted to explore before settling down for good, and it was the biggest regret of his life. I would tell Ryan what I told Alex—it was the best thing to ever happen to me.

I would explain that when Alex asked me if he was the last person I’d been with because for him, there was no one before or after the night I caught him, I told him he asked the wrong question. He should’ve asked if he was the last person I loved, but regardless, the answer to both would be no.

And I would let Ryan know that when Alex asked me to go home with him, I told him my home is on the twenty-second floor of a building downtown. It’s an apartment that up until a few months ago was stark and sad, but now bursts with breakfasts shared over the kitchen island and more books than either of us have time to read.

I would also tell him that I was completely emotionless while sitting on that curb, but I was overwhelmed when he called me. I wasn’t sad per se, but for the first time since things ended, I had the chance to mourn that relationship. The answers I’d been given gave me the opportunity to officially close that chapter in my life. In that moment I grieved for the sad girl from months ago who needed those answers so badly, even though the woman I am now doesn’t care about his why’s. The tears didn’t mean I wanted that life back.

“This is my first time at this arena.” Caroline claps her hands in excitement, pulling me out of memory lane as we sit courtside at Ryan’s game in Arizona.

“It’s my first game outside of Chicago.” I force a smile, as if I’m not zoned out and staring at the visitors’ tunnel, waiting for Ryan to come out.

Both the Raptors and the Devils are in Phoenix and playing tonight. Ron and Caroline called and invited me to sit with them, but I can only stay for the first half. I’ll have to get to the airport during halftime to prep the plane so I can fly the hockey team home tonight.

Ryan assured me I didn’t have to come. That just because I missed one invite from the Morgans, they wouldn’t question it. But I didn’t come for some ruse or to convince them of our authenticity. I came for him.

Finally, both teams come out for warm-ups, the court swamped by giant basketball players stretching and running through layup lines. But behind the blur of them, I find Ryan across the court, standing in front of his team’s bench, dressed in his normal clothes with his eyes locked on me.

He’s such a good man, and my heart aches seeing him so concerned. He doesn’t look happy. He seems stressed.

Arms crossed over his broad chest, Ryan’s lips lift in a slight smile, but it’s not big enough to show off his dimples.

“Is Ryan doing all right?” Caroline asks from beside me.

“I’m not sure.” I keep my attention on him, but he refocuses on his team and the game he can’t play in. “I had a conversation with someone from my past a few days ago, and I haven’t had the opportunity to explain to Ryan that it didn’t mean anything. I think he’s been stressed over it.”

“Well”—she puts her hand over mine and squeezes—“that’s because he loves you. He doesn’t want to lose you.”

An awkward chuckle bubbles out of me. “He hasn’t told me that yet.”

“No?”

Oh shit. Maybe I shouldn’t have admitted that to Caroline. Here she thinks that Ryan and I are happily in love and living together. Things have moved backwards for us. Living together, pretending to love each other, then developing real feelings.

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