Page 13 of The Restoration Program
“You okay?” Ryan’s voice came from much higher than she wanted it to.
“I still feel like I’m waiting to wake up. But… it’s really happening, isn’t it? We’re doing this?”
He nodded gently. “I’ll be with you the whole time. It’ll be okay, I promise.”
When she gave no reply, Ryan shifted closer. His eyes twinkled at her as he sank down onto one knee ceremoniously. Her heart fluttered.
“Nicole Zhou… Will you…”
Her hands flew to her mouth, trapping a gasp of utter disbelief.
“Will you come home with me?” he finished.
She dropped her hands and gave a shuddering laugh. “You asshole! I thought you were really gonna propose!”
Even as a giant, that boyish smirk of his made her stomach do pleasant flips. For a moment, she forgot to be frightened of him—and he was well aware of it.
“Hey, I got you to smile, at least.”
“I’d be smiling bigger if I had a diamond.”
“Greedy as ever.” Ryan grinned through happy tears, shaking his head. “Why did I fall for such a gold digger?”
It felt good to laugh with him again, though a cruel voice cackled at the back of her mind, berating her for thinking that he was actually about to propose to her.
Forget it. He’ll come to his senses before he ever buys a ring. Who’d want to marry a glorified doll?
Fresh tears gathered in her eyes, and she allowed Ryan to think they were from happiness, just like his.
She wanted more than anything to be wrapped up in his embrace. But the thought of those massive hands trapping her in their grasp again made her so dizzy with fear that she couldn’t bear to look at him.
DAY TWO
The most jarring part of seeing their apartment again was that nothing had changed—nothing, except her.
It was a miracle that Ryan had been able to get to their door discreetly, especially while he held her carrying tray. He had to move the tray to one hand while he unlocked the door. She sat cross-legged in the center, fingers curling uselessly against the matte plastic surface as though it would save her from slipping if Ryan lost balance.
“Thank you,” she said when he finally set the tray down on the dining table. Ryan nodded back, the soft smile not quite meeting his eyes. The carrying tray had been a point of contention during their check-out.
Although he hadn’t said it aloud, she knew what he was thinking—it wassillythat he couldn’t simply carry her in his hands. So instead he was toting her around like he was a waiter balancing precious cargo on a platter.
Even if the Restoration Program staff insisted hesitant contact was common with the newly Restored, other couples weren’tthem.
While Ryan made his way back and forth from the car to the apartment to bring everything in, Nicole stared around at the looming funhouse her apartment had become. Ryan took several trips, and each time he returned, she bristled as he loomed over her to set crates down by the table.
And yet, she found herself even more nervous when he was gone. She stayed rooted in the middle of the tray, unsure what she would do if a neighbor decided to poke their head in. She gave a wry, broken laugh at the thought of standing perfectly still and pretending to be a doll.
That worry dissolved when Ryan finally shut the door with his hip. His steps impacted heavily as he came to set down a fourth plastic crate in a stack with the others.
“That’s the last of them,” he said.
The Restoration Program had stayed true to its word, giving them clothes, furniture, cutlery, evenbookssized for people like her, if the inventory was to be believed. On the ride home, Ryan had speculated about going through all of them like it was Christmas. Now, looking down at them, all Nicole felt was crushing exhaustion.
“I can’t even think about opening all this right now,” she said, grimacing.
Ryan looked relieved. “Me neither. I’m still pretty burnt out on unpacking anything.”
They shared a light chuckle, which cloaked the sudden awkwardness that spiked the air. Even referencing their life as it had been a few days ago felt too raw.
