Chapter 58 058
RYAN
I opened a profile on True Love back when things first ended between Emily and me. Back when the silence felt louder than any fight we ever had. Back when the house felt too big and too empty at the same time.
I told myself I needed it.
I needed proof that I could move on. Proof that I could breathe without her. Proof that I did not need the woman who had been my entire world for so long.
So I swiped.
I matched.
I chatted.
I went on a few dates.
They were nice women. Kind women. Pretty women. Women who laughed at my jokes and touched my arm when they talked. Women who asked about my work and told me I was a good man.
But none of them felt right.
None of them felt like her.
Every conversation felt forced. Every smile felt borrowed. Every laugh felt like I was pretending to be someone else. I kept waiting for that spark. That ease. That feeling of being home.
It never came.
Eventually, I stopped opening the app. It stayed on my phone like a reminder of something I could not replace.
Tonight, I was in the kitchen warming up food for Zara. Leftover pasta from last night. The kind she liked with extra cheese. She was sitting at the table with her coloring book, humming softly to herself as she filled in stars and flowers with way too much glitter.
While the microwave hummed, I scrolled through my phone, trying to clear out things I no longer needed. Old screenshots. Duplicate photos. Apps I had not opened in months.
Then I saw it.
True Love.
I paused.
I sighed.
I almost deleted it without opening it. Almost. But something stopped me. Curiosity, maybe. Or habit. Or something deeper that still had her name written all over it.
I tapped the app.
A new profile popped up on the screen.
Emily.
My heart stuttered.
Her picture filled the screen. She was smiling, but not the wide smile she used for cameras. It was smaller. Softer. A little shy. The smile she used when she was nervous but trying not to show it.
The smile she used with me.
Her bio was short.
Single mom. Looking for real. No games.
That was it.
My thumb hovered over the screen for half a second.
Then I swiped right.
The match happened almost instantly.
I stared at the screen like it might disappear.
Then a message popped up.
“So you’re looking for a rebound.”
I laughed. Quiet at first. Then louder. The sound surprised me. It felt good. Light. Like something inside me had finally loosened.
My fingers moved before I could stop myself.
“And you really don’t want to leave me alone.”
Her reply came fast.
“That’s in your dreams, Ry.”
I laughed again, this time without holding it back.
Zara looked up from her coloring book, her curls bouncing as she tilted her head. “What are you laughing at, Daddy?”
I quickly dropped the phone face-down on the counter and pulled the plate out of the microwave. “Nothing, baby. Come eat.”
She hopped down from the chair and climbed back up when I pulled it out for her. I added extra cheese, just the way she liked it, and handed her the fork.
She ate happily, telling me about her day at school. About how Jodie shared her glitter pen. About how her teacher said her drawing of a family was very nice. She described it in detail, waving her fork around like it was part of the story.
I listened. I nodded. I smiled.
But half my mind was still on that chat bubble.
On Emily.
After Zara finished eating, I cleaned her up, wiped her hands, brushed her teeth, washed her face. I helped her into her favorite pajamas with the little stars on them.
I carried her to bed like I always did. She wrapped her arms around my neck, heavy with sleep, her head resting on my shoulder like it belonged there.
I tucked her in and grabbed the book from her nightstand. The one about the brave bunny who found her way home. I read slowly, letting my voice stay calm and steady.
She yawned halfway through, eyes already drooping.
“Daddy?” she whispered when I closed the book.
“Yeah, princess?”
“My friends said their daddy lives with them.” She looked up at me with those big, serious eyes that always went straight to my chest. “Will you live with Mommy too?”
The question knocked the air out of me.
I took a slow breath. “Soon, baby.”
She reached up and touched my cheek, the way she always did when she wanted to be sure I was listening. “Please live with Mummy. She’s always sad.”
My throat tightened.
I kissed her forehead. “I’ll try, okay? Now sleep.”
She nodded and closed her eyes.
I stayed there until her breathing evened out. Until she was fully asleep.
Then I went back to my room.
I lay on the bed staring at the ceiling, phone in my hand, heart restless. I opened the app again. Read the messages. Typed. Deleted. Typed again.
Eventually, sleep took me.
The next morning, after dropping Zara off at school, I didn’t turn toward work.
Instead, I drove.
Fast.
Too fast.
The road blurred beneath my tires, my foot heavier on the gas than it should’ve been, my thoughts louder than the engine. My hands were tight on the steering wheel, knuckles pale, heart beating like it was trying to outrun common sense. I didn’t slow down until Emily’s street came into view.
I pulled up outside her place just as she was stepping out the front door.
Perfect timing.
She had her keys in her hand, purse slung over her shoulder, already halfway into her day. She looked rushed, distracted, like her mind was already at work. And still—beautiful. Not dressed up. Not trying. Just effortlessly her. The kind of beautiful that sneaks up on you and hits you right in the chest.
I honked.
She startled, jumping slightly, then looked around, confused. Her eyes scanned the street before landing on my car. Recognition flickered across her face, followed quickly by caution.
I rolled the window down. “Get in.”
Her brows pulled together as she walked closer, stopping a few steps away. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m taking you to work.”
She let out a breath, slow and tired, her shoulders dropping like she didn’t have the energy for this—not this early, not with me. “Why, Ryan? I thought you didn’t want to have anything to do with me.”
That stung, even though I knew I deserved it.
I shrugged, forcing a casualness I didn’t feel, my pulse loud in my ears. “Let’s call a truce, Em. Friends?”
She didn’t answer right away.
Instead, she studied me. Really studied me. Like she was trying to read between the lines, searching my face for the part of me that was always honest with her—and the part that used to hurt her. Her expression shifted slowly, caution blending with curiosity, walls rising and lowering at the same time.
“Now what do you want, Ry?” she asked quietly. “Why do you want to be friends all of a sudden?”
I didn’t look away.
I met her eyes.
Held them.
And for once, I didn’t soften it or joke my way out.
“Because,” I said slowly, truth settling into my voice, “I want to take you out on a date.”