I look at him, but can’t seem to manage a smile.
The second we’re out of the car he pulls me into a hug and I have to try so much harder not to cry. I push him away, shake my head and start to walk towards the entrance.
He gets it.
I know he does as he walks next to me leaving a wide berth of space between us. The entire store is full of Disney and Universal Studios merchandise.
“I never got to read Harry Potter to her.” And that does it. I break down in the middle of Walmart.
Ryan starts toward me with that sad, remorseful look on his face and I wave him off, pointing to the restroom as I run away. I crash through the bathroom and go directly into the stall.
I pee, because, well, I need to, doing my best to get control of my tears. I wonder if a day will come when I don’t cry at least once. I long for it and dread it at the same time. I want to be able to move on, get my life back together, and start fresh. Yet I don’t want to ever do that because I’m afraid that means I’ll have forgotten them, or that my love for them has diminished. If I cry and hurt, then I know they’re still a part of me and that my love is still as strong as it ever was.
I wash my hands, splash water on my face, and when I come out, Ryan has a cart that is filled with crap. A ridiculous t-shirt that says Because I rule, Pringles, Chex mix, bottles of water, a deck of playing cards, and a checkerboard.
“Jesus, how long was I in there?”
“This store is awesome. I’ve never actually been inside of a Walmart before, but you can get everything here, and it’s super cheap.” He’s excited, and it’s sort of adorable. I think I meant it. I’m insanely jealous of whatever girl gets him. I know it’s not me. I know he doesn’t want me like that. But I still can’t help that nagging jealousy at the thought.
“Lead me to the candy aisle. I need gummy candy and I need it stat.”
“This way, doll,” he gives me his crooked smile and then points me over toward the food.
I grab four bags of various gummies and a Diet Coke since the one I got at the fast-food place this morning wasn’t real Diet Coke. Ryan thinks my little habit is nasty, and I concede that it is, but I don’t drink coffee or tea, so he’ll have to deal with it.
I also purchase a Hufflepuff scarf because I’ve always wanted one. Yes, if I had been sorted, it would have been with Hufflepuff, get over it. We leave Walmart fifty bucks broker, but it was worth it, and I feel a little better after my cry.
That’s a new sensation for me too. Usually crying makes me feel worse, but today I somehow feel lighter for it.
Ryan gets in the driver’s seat, and we continue heading northwest to the Florida panhandle. We don’t stop for several more hours. Instead, we eat our junk food and talk and listen to music, and argue about the finer points of Harry Potter and Star Wars.
“All I’m saying is that Star Wars is the greater franchise,” Ryan says, using one-handed exaggerated gestures as the other is thankfully affixed to the steering wheel.
“Greater in what respect? I mean, sure it spans a larger generation gap, but the fact that Harry Potter is both a book and a film series, I think makes it better overall.”
“Okay, I’ll admit that I liked the books. But the Star Wars movies are way better than the Harry Potter ones.”
I shrug, conceding that point. “So would you rather be a wizard or a Jedi?”
“Damn, that’s a great question.” He rubs his hand along his dark bristly jaw as he thinks on this. “Jedi. Lightsabers are badass and they can do pretty much anything a wizard can do.”
“Except apparate. And Jedi can’t really fly.”
“True. Apparation would be awesome.” Ryan turns to me with the biggest grin ever, a twinkle in his vibrant green eyes, and for a moment, I get lost. And then I get butterflies that I don’t quite understand.
And then I turn away because it’s all making me way too jittery and uncomfortable for my liking.
I turn up the music, and we fall into a companionable silence, lost in our own reverie.
By the time we do stop, it’s well after dark, and I have no idea where we are, but Ryan assures me that we’re close to Tallahassee.
We manage to find a hotel that has a restaurant in it, which is a double bonus at this point. We’ve been driving for eight hours, and the thought of having to get back in the car to find food is not appealing.
Ryan and I eat in silence, go to bed in our separate rooms, and wake up early as hell.
Before lunchtime the next day, we’re in New Orleans.
It’s raining. A lot.
The hurricane that hit the Florida coast has sent a wave of moisture in this direction, so the thought of traveling around and looking for a place to stay the way we normally do does not work. We google hotels, and Ryan books us at the Ritz-Carlton, which is around the corner from Bourbon Street. We check in and as I talk to the front desk, Ryan is over by the concierge, I assume making dinner reservations.
When he returns, he has this shit-eating, triumphant grin on his too-handsome face as he pushes his black frames up the bridge of his nose.
“I sort of did something for you, and I don’t want you to complain, challenge, or protest.”
I raise an eyebrow because this sounds serious. “What did you do, Mr. Grant?”
He gives me his crooked smile. “Is it weird that I think it’s hot that you just called me that?” I make a circular motion with my hand encouraging him to spill it. “I made you a spa reservation.”
“You did what?” My eyebrows shoot up to my hairline.
He’s grinning. “Yup. Your appointments start in an hour.”
“Appointments? As in more than one?” I shake my head, trying to hold in my grin. “Ryan—” I start, but he quickly cuts me off.
“And it’s on me.” I’m shaking my head adamantly. “Like I said, no protests. I want to do this for you, so please accept it.”
Jesus, this guy. I throw my arms around him, burying my head into his chest. He’s the sort of man a woman falls in love with.
“I don’t deserve you, Ryan. You truly amaze me. I may, in fact, love you in this moment.” I pull back with a smile that he readily returns. His knuckles brush my cheek, his eyes feasting on mine before they dip to my lips. They linger there, and with each passing second, my heart beats faster. I don’t want him to kiss me, I don’t, but I can’t make myself step away either.
Finally, he clears his throat. “Go get yourself settled in at the spa, they’re waiting for you. I’ll take your bag up to your room.” I lean up on my tippy-toes and press my lips to his. It’s quick. Nothing more than a peck really. Because a kiss on the cheek just won’t do it for this.
It’s not a real kiss. More like the ones I used to give Maggie. So it doesn’t really count. But I feel it. Even in its brevity, I feel it. The warm softness of his lips. The scent of his skin. The feel of his touch against mine. I feel it all and it feels…well, I’m not exactly sure how it feels.
Confusing? Yes. Nice? Definitely.
I leave Ryan immediately after. My brain is in overdrive and I need to shut it down. The spa is beautiful, and when I get there they give me first-class treatment. Ryan ordered me the works. Massage, a body scrub thing, lunch, facial, manicure, and pedicure. I’m told by the staff that I am not allowed to ask how much everything costs. They’re under strict instructions to make me feel like a princess.