Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 162003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 810(@200wpm)___ 648(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 810(@200wpm)___ 648(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
“What are you talking about?”
He pushed open the door and ushered me inside, his entire body tensing as I took in the sight before me.
Stacked against one of the walls were rows of shelving that had been custom built. Swatches and entire rolls of different colored fabrics burst from every storage bin and cupboard as far as the eye could see.
As if drawn to them by a magnet, I walked over and ran my hands along the different textures of silks and polyesters, cottons and rayons. Top of the line shears and measuring tools adorned the desk in front of me, along with patterns of every imaginable type. Books and DVDS, magazines and fashion show swag. The room had it all.
And right smack dab in the middle of it was a vintage Singer 201. I trembled as I reached out to touch it. It was so beautiful it could even give Ryland’s Jaguar a run for its money.
“Do you like it?”
I glanced up and watched the tension drain from his face when a smile broke out across mine.
“Are you kidding me? This is amazing. Where did you even find one of these?”
“It’s an… heirloom,” he said quietly. “But I thought you would put it to good use.”
“Ryland…” Tears blurred my eyes, and I couldn’t stop a few from leaking out. “Nobody has ever done anything like this for me. I don’t even know what to say.”
“I’ve been thinking about it.” He took a step towards me. “I’d like you to spend more time here.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Ideally, you’d be in my bed every night,” he said. “And this way you have a place here that feels like your own.”
“Are you asking me to move in with you?” My voice was weird. Super high pitched and squeaky.
“Yes.” He stepped closer.
“So this is part of the agreement?” I clarified.
“Technically, no.” He brought my hand to his face and splayed it across his cheek. “I’d like you to want to be here if that’s possible.”
There was that vulnerability again. I chewed my lip while I started to pace around the room. I didn’t understand him. How could he want these things with me, but not admit how he felt? It was confusing, and after the day I’d had, it was too much. Still, I couldn’t say I wasn’t tempted by the offer.
“You do realize how messy I am, right?”
“It doesn’t bother me.”
“Are you kidding me?” I laughed. “I’ve seen the way you like things, Ryland. Everything has its perfect little place. This sewing room, my space, it won’t be like that. I’m not joking. I will probably drive you crazy."
“You already do.” His lips tilted up at the corners. “But the messes don’t bother me when they’re yours. It makes the place feel… lived in.”
I continued to pace until he pulled me back into his arms with a sigh.
“You don’t have to decide today,” he relented. “But think about it.”
“Wow.” I smiled. “Who are you and what have you done with Ryland?”
He smiled too, and some of the tension between us broke as he kissed me on the temple.
“I’m trying,” he said. “For you.”
***
I ended up taking a week off. It wasn’t my original plan, but when the process for Brayden’s exoneration picked up momentum, I stayed glued to Ryland’s tablet waiting for google alerts. The only articles I could find stated there was new evidence being reviewed, along with a new witness testimony. The press wouldn’t release the name of the witness which I found strange.
The biggest question surrounded the fact that the car Brayden had supposedly been driving was registered to a known drug dealer by the name of Steven Arnett. The police had never been able to track him down, and it was always presumed that he’d skipped town when the news broke.
There were questions as to whether he could have been responsible, somehow convincing a young boy to take the fall for him. One article speculated that Brayden worked for the man and he was terrified for his life. Some of the stories were good, and it gave me a little hope. But there was still a lot of doubt in the eyes of public opinion.
When I thought about it, I still couldn’t make sense of it myself. Why would Brayden ever take the fall for a drug-dealer? He’d never touch the stuff, so it didn’t add up. But in the months before the accident, his behavior had been a little odd. Norma-Jean was freaking out and acting like a mother for a change, actually worrying about him. Neither one of them would ever tell me what was going on, though. It was the same story with everyone in my life, and it was a difficult pill to swallow. Because no matter how much my relationship with Ryland evolved, there were still secrets he was hiding.