Page 94 of The Most Perfect Wrong

The final chorus hits me like a challenge, daring me to believe—in me. Nobody but you can make you change the things you don’t like about yourself. Change isn’t easy, but it’s possible. Maybe Ryan isn’t here to save me; maybe he’s here to remind me that I can save myself.

I loosen my grip on the pillow as the song fades. My tears slow, and I take a deep, shaky breath. For the first time ever, a flicker of hope stirs within me—small, fragile, but real.

Ryan doesn’t make me feel weak. With him, I feel steady, strong—capable. And maybe, just maybe, I can believe in that.

Believe in him.

Believe in me.

I exhale slowly, breathing out the doubts, the pain, and the ghosts that have haunted me for too long.

And my next breath feels a little lighter.

* * * * * ?* * * * *

“I really liked Jennifer. She was quick and smart, and I think her experience as a leader is crucial,” I say as we walk through the hotel lobby, the faint smell of perfume lingering from the woman in front of us. We just interviewed four different people at the new work location in Austin, and with travel this morning—it’s been a long day.

“I agree. She was really good. Definitely outshined everyone else today. What should we do for food tonight?”

“I’ll eat wherever.” I honestly don’t care where we eat; my brain feels like it’s been running a marathon all day, and I’m too drained to process anything extra. I’ve been constantly thinking about everything, especially Brad. I still haven’t talked to him. And I know when I do, it needs to be in person, and we’re both traveling for work this week, so… Plus, I’m avoiding it for obvious reasons.

“Should we just go to that food truck around the corner?” Ryan asks as we step into the elevator.

I press the button for my floor and his. Ryan was upgraded to a suite, so we’re on different floors this week. He generously offered it to me, but I declined.

I lean against the wall, glancing at Ryan. He looks good, dressed in his best work clothes—a light blue button-up with navy blue dress pants and a suit jacket. His brown shoes and matching belt give him an extra polished look. I love how his top few buttons are always left undone, giving him a casual yet dressy vibe. Plus, his chest is just sexy.

I glance down at my own outfit. I kept it simple today, wanting to look professional but not distracting—a champagne satin button-up tucked into white dress pants.

Sudden exhaustion hits me, a mental overload from the long day. “What if we just stay in instead? You know, change into something comfortable, order room service, watch a movie?”

He hesitates, shifting from one foot to the other, his lips pressing together like he’s thinking. “I don’t know, Coop.”

The doors open for my floor, and being the gentleman that Ryan is—and because we aren’t done talking—he exits with me.

The carpet muffles our steps as we walk down the hallway. My room is the fourth door down, so we’re there in mere seconds.

He continues. “Honestly, I don’t trust myself in a room alone with you right now.”

I turn to face him, leaning my back against the door of my room. I exhale. “I get it. I can respect that. I’m just tired, you know…” I trail off.

“Okay. We’ll stay in. But we’re hanging out in my room since it’s bigger.”

“Obviously,” I say, a smile tugging at my lips.

“Can you just…” He pauses, rubbing the back of his neck as a smile tugs at his lips. “Can you put something really baggy on? Please?”

“I don't have any baggy pants. But I have a sweatshirt?” I offer, smiling.

“Is it that Chicago Bears one that slides off your shoulder?”

I bite my bottom lip, nodding.

“Jesus. Yeah, we can’t have that.”

I laugh. “Oh my God, Ryan, it’s just a sweatshirt.”

“Yeah, and that sweatshirt turns me on.” He combs a hand through his hair, shaking his head like he’s trying to push the thought away. “Fuck. Everything you wear turns me on.”

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