“Drop this, Felicity.”
“I will. After you open it.”
“No.” His voice is flat. Emotionless. “This is ridiculous. You’re being ridiculous.”
Things are spinning out of my grip so fast, I don’t even have time to hold on. I feel like I’m clinging to my life — to my love — by the tips of my fingers.
“Ryder.” My voice cracks on his name. “Please.”
Something moves in his eyes. It looks like fear. He sets the bag down on the vanity behind him and takes a step toward me. “Felicity, baby, this isn’t the time for this. We have to go. We’re going to be late to the party.”
“I don’t care about the party!” I yell, eyes wide. “I care about the bag!”
I care about you.
“You’re making a big deal over nothing, getting yourself all worked up.” He sighs, like I’m being a tiresome child. “Look, we’ll talk about it later, okay?”
I stare at him for three long beats, counting them out in my head like bullets piercing a target.
“Okay,” I agree. “Let’s go.”
Relief moves through him as he steps toward me and starts ushering me out the door. I wait until we cross the threshold into the bedroom before I whirl out of his grip, double back, and slam the bathroom door in his face, clicking the lock closed before he can get it open again.
“Felicity!” he roars, pounding on the door. “What the fuck!”
I’m beyond hearing. Moving in slow motion, I walk over to the black leather bag sitting so innocuously on the edge of the sink. I feel like I’m trembling head to toe, but when my hand reaches out for the zipper, it’s remarkably steady. Like I’ve switched over to autopilot, disabling all the emotional aspects of my brain.
“FELICITY!”
I yank the zipper open in one smooth tug. And when my eyes lock on the contents inside…
I feel something inside me — something I thought was healed a long time ago — break all over again.