Chapter 59 059
EMILY
“A date?”
The word slipped out of my mouth flat and disbelieving as I stared at Ryan through the open window of his car. My arms were crossed tightly over my chest, not from the cold but from instinct—some automatic need to protect myself.
I let out a short, humorless laugh. “What the hell are you on?”
Ryan chuckled softly, but there was nothing confident about it. The sound was low, a little nervous, almost shy. He lifted one hand and rubbed the back of his neck, fingers dragging through his hair—the same nervous habit he had always had when he was trying to say something that mattered and didn’t know how to say it right.
“Please,” he said gently. “For old times’ sake?”
That made my stomach twist.
Old times.
I looked away for a second, pressing my lips together. My mind was struggling to catch up with my ears. This didn’t make sense. None of it did.
Just days ago, I had been standing in front of this same man with my pride in pieces, offering myself in the only way I thought he might still want me. I had been so desperate to feel close to him again that I had agreed to something empty—something that hurt—telling myself I could survive on crumbs if that was all he had to give.
And now he was here.
Talking about dates.
Actual dates. The kind that came with effort and intention. The kind people went on when they were trying to build something—not avoid it.
Like we hadn’t burned each other alive.
I sighed, long and shaky, the sound heavy with exhaustion. “Look, Ry…” I said quietly. “I don’t have time for this.”
He straightened slightly, listening.
“If you have something on your mind,” I continued, forcing myself to meet his eyes again, “it’s better to spill now.”
For a moment, he didn’t speak.
His fingers tightened around the steering wheel, knuckles whitening just slightly. He took a slow breath, like he was bracing himself.
“Zara asked me why we weren’t living together,” he said.
The words landed hard.
My breath caught somewhere between my lungs and my throat.
He kept going, voice careful but steady. “It got me thinking too. And I just…” He paused, jaw tightening. “Can’t we—can’t we just try again?”
The world felt like it tilted.
To say I was shocked didn’t even come close. Shock was clean. This wasn’t clean. This was messy and emotional and terrifying all at once.
“Zara…” I whispered. “Zara asked?”
Ryan nodded slowly, his expression soft but serious. There was no teasing in his eyes now. “Yeah,” he said. “She did.”
“Oh…”
That was all I managed to say.
My chest tightened painfully as images flooded my mind—Zara sitting quietly in her room, watching other children with both parents at school, asking questions she didn’t know how to say out loud. Questions she had carried alone.
My baby girl.
My brave, sensitive little girl.
Ryan reached across the console and brushed his fingers against my hand. The touch was light, careful, like he wasn’t sure I’d let him.
“Let me drop you off at work,” he said softly. “You can think in the car.”
I stared at his hand resting over mine, his thumb barely touching my skin, like he was afraid even that much might be too much. The warmth of it traveled up my arm, settling somewhere uncomfortably deep in my chest.
It would have been so easy to pull away.
So easy to remind myself of everything that had gone wrong. Of all the reasons I shouldn’t sit beside him. Of all the walls I had built for survival.
But I didn’t.
I nodded instead—slow, absent-minded, overwhelmed—and reached for the passenger door.
Ryan started the car and pulled away from the curb.
The drive was quiet.
Not awkward. Not tense.
Just heavy. The kind of silence that carried too many thoughts, too many emotions neither of us was ready to unpack yet. The city passed by outside the window, streets I knew by heart, yet everything felt slightly off—like the world had shifted while I wasn’t paying attention.
My thoughts kept circling back to Zara.
To her small face when she was thinking hard about something. To the way she went quiet when emotions felt too big. To how observant she was, even when she pretended not to notice anything at all.
How long had that question lived inside her?
How many times had she swallowed it down because she didn’t want to upset either of us?
The guilt settled heavy in my stomach.
I felt sick.
I felt ashamed.
I felt like I had failed her without even realizing it.
The bakery came into view far too soon, the familiar brick building standing there like a reminder that life didn’t stop just because my heart was unraveling. Customers were already coming and going, the day moving forward whether I was ready or not.
Ryan slowed the car and parked right in front.
He turned off the engine but didn’t open his door. Didn’t reach for his phone. He just sat there, like he knew I wasn’t ready to step out yet.
“Hey,” he said quietly.
I turned toward him, my eyes stinging before I could stop it. “I’m worried about my baby,” I admitted, my voice cracking despite my effort to keep it steady. “She doesn’t like saying what’s on her mind. I keep wondering how long that question has been sitting with her.”
Ryan let out a slow breath and reached for my hand again—this time threading his fingers through mine. The contact was warm. Steady. Grounding.
“We’ll work it out,” he said gently. “Okay?”
I nodded, unable to trust my voice with words.
He leaned in slowly and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. It wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t sexual. It didn’t feel like a promise or a demand.
It felt like care.
Something careful. Something restrained.
“So,” he murmured as he pulled back just enough to look at me, “friends?”
I hesitated for only a second before nodding. “Yeah,” I said softly. “Let’s start with that.”
His smile was small. Hopeful. A little sad.
“Good,” he said. “We’ll pick you up later, so wait for us.”
A quiet laugh slipped out of me. “Sure,” I said