“Ryan-”
“Just to sleep Alana, I just want to sleep. Iwant to hold you in my arms and make sure you know I will be heretomorrow. If you need me to rebuild your trust, I’ll do it onemorning at a time.”
I stop walking. How many times have Iimagined this? Waking up and Ryan actually being there.
I step into his room and it’s such a guy’sspace; completely different from the rest of the apartment. Thewalls are painted a dark gray, his bedspread a navy blue. There’s apile of clothes thrown in the corner and a huge picture of anartist’s pallet with smeared brush strokes and colorful paintmixtures hanging on the wall. I love it. It’s so Ryan.
He crawls into bed and motions for me tofollow. He lies on his back and hugs me into his chest, his jawresting on my head. I could almost cry this feels so right, so whydid I tell him no?
“You were the only thing that got me throughthose three years,” he confesses. “I thought about you everyday.”
“I wish you’d called me.”
“Me too,” he says, and I can hear the regretin his voice. It permeates the room.
I think of Ryan locked up for a crime hedidn’t commit. Losing precious years he’ll never get back, and afuture that’s all but ruined because of his criminal record.
I hug him tighter, pity consuming me.
I watch the lights of Manhattan twinkle inthe darkness. Ryan is breathing deeply, a slow soothing rhythm, andI know he’s asleep. Staring out at the nightscape, I realize I haveto make a decision. If I want Ryan in my life I’ll have to learn totrust him. I’ll have to let go of the last five years and I’ll haveto accept his profession.
Ish.
Ryan the stripper,Jack the Stripper.How in the hell am I going to deal with that?
It’s going to be easier to get over myinsecurities, even though I’m not really sure who I am withoutthem.
But I want Ryan.
I’ve always wanted Ryan.
It just drives me nuts that half of the womenin New York City want him too.
I rummage around Ryan’s kitchen looking forcoffee. I finally find some Keurig cups on a top shelf. BlackMagic, thank God.
I pop in a pod and listen as the coffeequickly brews. As I reach up into the cabinet for another cup Ihear Ryan calling my name. His footsteps are heavy against the woodfloor as he walks down the hallway.
“Jesus, Alana,” he runs his hands down hisface when he finds me in the kitchen.
I turn and look at him over my shoulder.“Think I left?” I giggle. He comes up behind me and wraps his armsaround my waist, wearing only a pair of grey boxer briefs.
“For a second, yeah,” then he kisses myexposed neck. My hair is pulled up into a bun on top of myhead.
“You look hot in my t-shirt.”
“Thanks, I didn’t think you’d mind if Iborrowed one.”
“You could live in it for all I care,” hehugs me, still holding me from behind, and then steals a sip of mycoffee.
“Did you sleep okay?” It’s about the onlything I can think to ask while his body is pressed up against mine;I can feel every inch of him. Like, every, inch.
“Last night was the best sleep I’ve had infive years,” he says, and I hide a smile. Is this reallyhappening?
“What do you want to do today?” he asks. Ipause, staring straight ahead at the white-tiled backsplash. Hmmm,that answer can have so many possibilities. Taking a deep breath ofresignation, I turn around and look at him. He’s about six inchestaller than I am. His hair is a mess on top of his head, andthere’s just a hint of stubble growing on his chin. His featuresare more mature now. But he’s still just as hot as he was fiveyears ago, maybe even more so.
I think about last night and the decision Imade. If I want Ryan in my life, I’m going to have to let him in,no matter how terrifying that is. No pain no gain, right?
“I thought we could spend the day getting toknow each other,” my eyes gleam.