Atlas brings me a bowl of pasta and a glass of ice water. He glances at the TV and then sits down next to me on the couch.
For the next three hours, we watch a full week’s worth of episodes. I laugh out loud six times. It feels good, but when I take a bathroom break and come back to the living room, the weight of it all starts to sink in again.
I sit back down on the couch next to Atlas. He’s leaning back with his feet propped up on the coffee table. I naturally lean into him and just like he used to do when we were teenagers, he pulls me against his chest and we just sit there in silence. His thumb brushes the outside of my shoulder, and I know it’s his unspoken way of saying he’s here for me. That he feels bad for me. And for the first time since he picked me up last night, I feel like talking about it. My head is resting against his shoulder and my hands are in my lap. I’m fidgeting with the drawstring on the pants that are way too big for me.
“Atlas?” I say, my voice barely a whisper. “I’m sorry I got so angry at you that night at the restaurant. You were right. Deep down I knew you were right, but I didn’t want to believe it.” I lift my head and look at him, cracking a pitiful smile. “You can say, ‘I told you so’ now.”
His eyebrows draw together, like my words somehow hurt him. “Lily, this is not something I wanted to be right about. I prayed every day that I was wrong about him.”
I wince. I shouldn’t have said that to him. I know better than to think Atlas would ever think something like I told you so.
He squeezes my shoulder and leans forward, kissing the top of my head. I close my eyes as I soak up the familiarity of him. His smell, his touch, his comfort. I’ve never understood how someone can be so rock solid, yet comforting. But that’s always how I’ve viewed him. Like he could withstand anything, but somehow still feels the weight that everyone else carries.
I don’t like that I was never fully able to let go of him, no matter how hard I tried. I think about the fight with Ryle over Atlas’s phone number. The fight about the magnet, the article, the things he read in my journal, the tattoo. None of that would have happened if I would have just let go of Atlas and thrown it all away. Ryle wouldn’t have had anything to be so upset with me about.
I pull my hands up to my face after that thought, upset that there’s a part of me trying to blame Ryle’s reaction on my lack of closure with Atlas.
There’s no excuse. None.
This is just another wave I’m being forced to ride on. A wave of complete and utter confusion.
Atlas can feel the change in my composure. “You okay?”
I’m not.
I’m not okay, because until this moment, I had no idea how hurt I still am that he never came back for me. If he’d have just come back for me like he promised, I would have never even met Ryle. And I would have never been in this situation.
Yep. I’m definitely confused. How am I possibly lending blame to Atlas for any of this?
“I think I need to call it a night,” I say quietly, pulling away from him. I stand up and Atlas stands up, too.
“I’ll be gone most of the day tomorrow,” he says. “Will you be here when I get home?”
I cringe at his question. Of course he wants me to get my shit together and find another place to stay. What am I even still doing here? “No. No, I can get a hotel, it’s fine.” I turn to walk toward the hallway, but he puts a hand on my shoulder.
“Lily,” he says, turning me around. “I wasn’t asking you to leave. I was just making sure you’d still be here. I want you to stay as long as you need to.”
His eyes are sincere, and if I didn’t think it would be a little inappropriate, I would throw my arms around him and hug him. Because I’m not ready to leave yet. Just a couple more days before I’m forced to figure out what my next step is.
I nod. “I need to go in to work for a few hours tomorrow,” I tell him. “There are some things I need to take care of. But if you really don’t mind, I’d like to stay here for a few more days.”
“I don’t mind, Lily. I’d prefer it.”
I force a smile and then head to the guest bedroom. At least he’s giving me a buffer before I’m forced to confront everything.
As much as his presence in my life confuses me right now, I’ve never been more thankful for him.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
My hand is trembling when I reach for the doorknob. I’ve never once been scared to walk into my own business before, but I’ve also never been this on edge.
The building is dark when I enter it, so I flip on the lights, holding my breath. I walk slowly to my office, pushing the door open with caution.
He’s nowhere, yet he’s everywhere.
When I take a seat at my desk, I turn on my phone for the first time since I went to bed last night. I wanted a good night’s sleep without having to worry about whether or not Ryle was trying to contact me.
When it powers on, I have twenty-nine missed texts from Ryle. It just so happens to be the same number of doors Ryle knocked on to find my apartment last year.
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry at the irony.
I spend the rest of the day like this. Glancing over my shoulder, looking up at the door every time it opens. I wonder if he’s ruined me. If the fear of him will ever leave me.
Half a day goes by without a single phone call from him while I catch up on paperwork. Allysa calls me after lunch and I can tell by her voice that she has no idea about the fight Ryle and I had. I let her talk about the baby for a while before I pretend I have a customer and hang up.
I plan on leaving when Lucy returns from her lunch break. She has half an hour left.
Ryle walks through the front door three minutes later.
I’m the only one here.
As soon as I see him, I turn stone cold. I’m standing behind the counter, my hand on the cash register because it’s close to the stapler. I’m sure a stapler couldn’t do much harm against the arms of a neurosurgeon, but I’ll use what I have.
He slowly makes his way to the counter. It’s the first time I’ve seen him since he was on top of me on our bed the other night. My whole body is immediately taken back to that moment, and I’m engulfed in the same level of emotions as I was in that moment. Both fear and anger rush through me when he reaches the counter.
He lifts his hand and places a set of keys on the counter in front of me. My eyes fall to the keys.
“I’m leaving for England tonight,” he says. “I’ll be gone for three months. I paid all the bills so you won’t have to worry about it while I’m gone.”
