Chapter 52 052
RYAN
Zara finally drifted off. She had cried herself empty, exhausted by the whirlwind of emotions she barely understood, and sleep claimed her fast and deep.
Emily laid her down with a tenderness that always undid me. She moved slowly, carefully, like the world might crack if she rushed it. She tucked the blanket around Zara’s small shoulders, smoothed a curl off her forehead, and leaned down to whisper something I could not hear. Whatever it was, Zara’s face softened even more, her breathing evening out.
Emily straightened and turned toward the door. She stepped into the hallway and waited for me to follow.
I did.
The moment the bedroom door closed behind us, the air shifted. It felt heavier, tighter, like the house itself was holding its breath.
She faced me. Her shoulders were squared, but her eyes gave her away.
“You can leave,” she said quietly.
I nodded once. No argument. No hesitation. Maybe I deserved that much.
I turned toward the door.
I did not even make it two steps.
Her arms wrapped around me from behind, tight and sudden, like she was afraid if she loosened her grip even a little, I would disappear.
I froze.
Her cheek pressed between my shoulder blades. I felt the heat of her body, the familiar shape of her, the weight of memory crashing into me all at once.
Then I heard it. A small, broken sniffle.
“Em?” I murmured.
She did not answer. She just cried.
I turned carefully in her arms. She did not let go. She buried her face in my chest like it was the only place she knew how to land and the tears came harder. Quiet at first, then shaking, then the kind of sobs that shook her whole body. The kind you cannot fake or stop or hide.
I wrapped my arms around her without thinking. Held her the way I used to. The way my body still remembered. The way my heart had never quite forgotten.
“It’s okay,” I whispered, even though I knew it was not. “I’ve got you.”
She shook her head against me, fingers gripping my shirt like it was the only thing keeping her upright. “You know,” she said, her voice muffled and broken, “I came over to your place to talk about what happened yesterday. I really wanted to talk. Only for you to introduce me to your girlfriend.”
The words landed heavy in my chest, sharp and unavoidable. I felt them sink in and settle where guilt already lived.
I scoffed softly, the sound tired rather than amused. “I thought what happened yesterday was a mistake.”
She pulled back just enough to look at me. Her eyes were red and swollen, lashes clumped with tears, her glare cutting straight through whatever shield I thought I still had. “Don’t be stupid, Ry.”
I closed my eyes briefly and let out a slow breath. “So what is on your mind?”
She swallowed hard. I watched her throat move and watched her steady herself like she was preparing to jump without knowing how deep the water was. “I’ve missed us,” she said quietly. “Last night brought back so many memories and I just… I don’t know how long you want me to keep begging. But I’m truly sorry, Ryan. I never slept with Frederick and I—”
“Shhh,” I said gently, cutting her off before the words could tear her open any further. I lifted my hands to her face, cupping her cheeks, wiping away the tears that kept falling no matter how many I brushed aside. “What do you want from me now?”
She searched my eyes like she was looking for a door she was afraid might already be locked. Her gaze was raw. Hopeful. Terrified in a way that made my chest ache.
“You,” she whispered. “I want you back, Ryan.”
My heart tightened painfully. I shook my head slowly, already hating myself. “I can’t.”
Her face crumpled like I had struck her. “Why?”
“What if I get busy again?” My voice cracked despite my effort to keep it steady. “What if work keeps me late? What if I fail you again without meaning to? Would you seek attention somewhere else?”
She looked down immediately, shaking her head with conviction. “No. Never.”
“How can I have you then?” she asked, her voice barely audible, like the question itself scared her. “How?”
I exhaled, long and heavy, the weight of the truth pressing down on me until my shoulders sagged. “The only thing I have to offer you is sex, Emily. Just sex.”
The silence that followed was brutal. It stretched between us, thick and suffocating, filled with everything neither of us wanted to say out loud.
She broke the hug and stepped back. Her eyes blazed now. Hurt. Disbelief. Anger colliding all at once. “Are you serious?”
I shrugged, hating myself a little more by the second. “I’m sorry.”
I turned to leave again, my chest aching like I had just ripped something vital out of myself and left it bleeding on the floor.
Her hand shot out and grabbed my arm. “So you drop a bomb like that and just leave?”
I looked back at her. “You obviously don’t want an arrangement like that. And I have nothing else to offer.”
She stared at me for a long moment. Too long. Her face shifted through emotions I could not track fast enough. Shock. Hurt. Calculation. Resolve. Then she straightened her shoulders.
“Fine,” she said. “I agree to just sex.”
I blinked, certain I had misheard her. “What?”
She stepped closer. Close enough that I could feel her breath against my skin. Close enough that the line I had drawn suddenly felt thin and useless. “What the hell are you on, Emily?” I asked, my voice low, unsteady.
She did not answer with words.
She reached up, grabbed my shirt collar, and pulled me down.
And kissed me.
For a moment, I could not respond. Shock rooted me in place, my mind scrambling to catch up with my body. Then instinct took over. My hands came up to her waist without permission, holding her like I already knew I was losing this fight. Her mouth moved against mine so hard.
She pulled back just enough to whisper against my lips, her voice low and steady, eyes locked onto mine.
“So,” she said softly, “your just-sex arrangement… how does it work?”