Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89265 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89265 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
“What happened?”
I looked at the ceiling. “I hated it. Couldn’t stand being in classes with all these entitled little assholes who complained about the most trivial shit you can imagine. I’d just stare at them and feel this … rage. I couldn’t take it. Decided college wasn’t for me.”
She nodded. “Is that when you were married?”
“Yeah. That was another thing that pissed her off. She didn’t understand why I couldn’t just ignore everyone around me and get through it.”
“God, what a bitch.”
“Yeah. She was.” Then I laughed.
“What’s funny?”
“You calling someone a name. It’s not like you.”
She sighed. “No. It isn’t. But I couldn’t help it.”
“It’s okay.” I moved closer to her and gathered her in my arms, kissed the top of her head. “You weren’t wrong.”
We lay there for a minute or two, her head on my chest, our breathing deep and rhythmic in the dark.
“How many times have you been in love?” she asked softly.
“Once.”
“With your ex-wife?”
“With you.”
She sat up and looked at me. “Really?”
“Really. I barely tolerated her.”
“Why’d you marry her?”
“Good question.”
“I’m serious. Why?”
“Can’t you tell me? You’re the expert.”
She poked my chest. “You’re the expert on you, Ryan. I just like to listen.”
I inhaled and exhaled, trying to think of one good reason I’d gotten married. “I guess I was trying to feel normal, and getting married seemed like what a normal guy would do in my situation. And she seemed willing to put up with my shit, at least initially. But I didn’t feel anything for her. Not like this.”
“Do you … do you feel normal now?”
I wanted to answer honestly. “Not completely,” I said. “But I’m not sure I’ll ever feel normal, Stella. Hell, I don’t even know for sure what it is. I can do normal things and act like everyone else, but inside, I don’t know how to be anyone but me.”
She nestled against my side again and wrapped her arms around me. “That’s okay. I don’t want you to be anyone but you. If you don’t want to be normal, you don’t have to be.”
I kissed the top of her head again and held her close. “Right now, I feel safe and understood, and to me, that’s even better than normal.”
She pressed her lips to my chest. “I feel safe too.”
“Good.” I closed my eyes and prayed it could last.
Twenty-Seven
Stella
The following morning was Saturday, so I was surprised when I woke up and found myself alone again. Dismayed, I pulled on my bra and underwear, and tugged my dress over my head. When I opened the bedroom door, I expected to see another note on the floor.
But nothing was there.
Then I heard something in the kitchen, and when I sniffed, I smelled bacon. Slowly, I made my way toward the kitchen and pushed open the swinging door. Then I gasped.
Ryan was cooking breakfast.
“Good morning,” he said, slinging a towel over his bare shoulder.
“Good morning. This is a surprise.”
“Your grandmother gave me the idea last night when she said your grandfather liked to make breakfast on Saturday mornings.” He glanced at the stove. “I’m doing my best here, but I’ll admit—the hash browns were frozen.”
I laughed, coming closer to the stove, where eggs were frying in one pan and hash browns sizzled in another. On the counter, strips of crispy bacon rested on a paper-towel-lined plate. My stomach rumbled. “That’s okay. It all looks great.”
I noticed grocery bags on the floor. “Did you go to the store this morning?”
“Yeah. You were sound asleep, and I didn’t want to wake you. You’re a heavy sleeper, did you know that?”
“I’ve been told,” I said, feeling heat in my cheeks. “Can I help?”
“Nope. I’ve got this.” He nodded toward the kitchen table, where two cups of coffee in to-go cups stood in a cardboard carrier. “I got us some coffee. I wasn’t sure how you took yours, so there’s cream and sugar there, too.”
“Thank you.” I shook my head. “This is kind of surreal, you know.”
He grinned and flipped an egg. “Believe me. I know.”
After breakfast, we agreed to go for a run as soon as our bellies could handle it.
“We probably shouldn’t wait too long,” Ryan said, checking out the sky as he walked me back to Grams’s house. “Looks like rain today.”
“You’ll probably have to slow down for me,” I warned him.
“I doubt it.” He glanced down at my legs. “I bet you can keep up.”
I smiled as we approached the front porch. “Want to come in?”
He looked up the steps toward the door. “No, thanks. I don’t really want to face your grandmother the morning after.”
“I get it. Yesterday morning when I came home, she was right there at the front door, and my shirt was buttoned wrong.” I closed my eyes and shook my head at the memory. “So embarrassing.”
He laughed. “She seems pretty enlightened actually.”