“Of course, it’s changed! You all stopped inviting me to things because you wanted Alex there.” Taking a deep breath, I try to keep my volume down. “If having me in the wedding is your attempt to get me to rekindle things, I don’t think I should go.”
“Indy, he wants everything you’ve ever wanted. He had a moment of weakness. He wants the marriage, the kids. There’s no way you’re close to that with that basketball player. Are you really seeing that guy?”
“Ryan!” I burst. “His name is Ryan.”
She looks around and lowers her voice. “If that’s all for show you need to tell me.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Because,” she laughs half-heartedly. “You’ve loved Alex your entire life and you’re the most loyal person I know. Regardless of what he did, I can’t imagine you moving on to someone else. It’s always been him.”
I’m far too sick to be having this conversation. It’s the same words I’ve repeated to myself for months, assuming it was too soon to move on. But things have changed. I’m not sure when my heart and head decided to finally get on the same page, but they did. Now, there’s someone else who has my loyalty, and it isn’t Alex.
“I need a minute.”
Slowly standing, I head to the drink station for some water. My hands and forehead are clammy, my muscles are sore, and I’m desperate to go to bed. Resting my palms on the edge of the drink table, I close my eyes and inhale a deep breath, trying to swallow down the aches and pains.
The front door to the banquet room swings open as Ryan bursts in, halting in place when the eyes of twenty women land on the only man in the room.
“Hellllo,” an older woman catcalls from the back of the room. I’m not sure who it is, and I don’t have the strength to turn around and find out who's hitting on my roommate.
Ryan scans the room, finding me in the corner. His ocean eyes widen with shock as his strides pick up pace to meet me. He’s beautiful and commanding, but I have no idea what he’s doing here.
Is this part of the deal? Him acting like a protective boyfriend in front of my old friends?
His warm fingers push my hair away from my face before testing the temperature of my forehead with the back of his hand. I brush him off without much authority, but he ignores me and checks again.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, finally giving in and leaning into his touch.
“I’m taking you home. You’re sick, Blue.”
“I’m fine, and your sister is a little snitch.”
He chuckles a warm laugh. “Yeah, well her stubborn best friend wouldn’t listen to her.”
“Who says I’m going to listen to you?”
I don’t know why I’m acting as if I have the energy to put up a fight. I’m about two seconds away from falling into his chest from exhaustion.
“You don’t have to.”
In one simple motion and with one single arm, Ryan swoops me up, chest to chest with my legs slung around his hips. Without fight, I wrap my arms around his neck and drop my head to his shoulder.
He carries me to the exit, grabbing my coat on the way and covering my body with it.
Ryan doesn’t give me time to say goodbye to anyone, but I find myself perfectly okay with that.
The cold Chicago air hits me as soon as we exit the restaurant, but I welcome it, hoping it calms my burning skin. I close my eyes, needing to rest as Ryan walks us back to the apartment.
“You left the house for me.”
He exhales a sigh. “Yeah, I seem to do that quite a bit for you.”
His hands are hooked under my legs, keeping me from sliding down his body. I’m not much help, I have almost no strength left, but Ryan seems to be able to handle me just fine.
I pull back slightly to look at him. He’s as beautiful as ever this afternoon, but his eyes are narrowed with concern, seeing me.
“Why aren’t you at practice?”
“I called out.”
“Why?”
“Why do you think, Ind?”
“Can’t you get in trouble for skipping practice? Or fined?”
He places a hand on the back of my head, ushering me to lay on his shoulder once again.
“I guess it’s a good thing I’m rich then.”
Inhaling sharply, Ryan’s clean scent invades my nostrils and even though I’m frustrated about last night, I can’t help but relax into him. “I told you I was going to be an expensive girlfriend.”
“Welcome back, Mr. Shay,” I hear our doorman say. “Miss Ivers.”
“Thank you, David.”
“Should I have some chicken noodle soup sent up?” I can picture the look of concern painted on his face as he eyes the dead weight in Ryan’s arms.
“I’ve got it handled,” he reassures. “But we appreciate it.”
“Bye, Dave.” I give him a weak wave over Ryan’s shoulder, reminding myself to bring him a coffee soon for being the sweet little angel he always is.
In our apartment, Ryan sheds my jacket by the front door, hanging it on the rack next to his keys. He continues across the living room, headed for his bedroom door.
“My room, please.”
“No.”
“Ryan, I’m still mad at you.”
“Okay, you can be mad at me all you want while you sleep in my bed.”
I have absolutely no fight left in me, which really is a shame. It’s one of my favorite things to do, volley back and forth with him.
Through the threshold of Ryan’s room, he carries me to the mattress, laying me on the side opposite his. His bed is big and luxurious, and I sink into it, both in pain and reprieve.
A clammy sweat lingers on my forehead as he begins untying my shoes. “This is how I know you’re really sick. You didn’t even wear heels today.”
I nod quickly. “That should’ve been my sign.”
He places my embroidered sneakers on the ground, grabbing a pair of his sweatpants from his dresser. Guiding my feet through, he slides the pants up my legs before folding them down a few times around my waist.
“Do you mind if I get you out of this dress?”
I shrug. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”
Typically, I’d add some humor in my tone, but my feelings are hurt over last night and I’m too tired to try to hide that.
Ryan exhales as if the words punched him in the gut. He lifts my dress up and over my head, before pulling off his own t-shirt, leaving himself bare-chested. He slips his worn tee over my body, enveloping me in his warmth and scent.
“Do you want your bra off?”
A smile spreads across my closed lips. “Well, if those aren’t the six sexiest words in the English language strung together.”
I open one lid to peek at him. He’s shaking his head at me, but that kissable mouth is tugged up on each side. “I think that fever of yours is going to your head.”
“I don’t have a fever.”
“Actually, you do. You’re burning up and I’m fairly certain you have some kind of flu.”
Without hesitation, Ryan slips his hand under my back and unclasps my bra with a single motion, sliding it out from under the shirt. I watch his backside as he hangs my dress in his closet, draping my bra over the hanger, and before he returns to me, he places my shoes neatly by the door.