Page 61 of Liberating Bells
I get to run around Nashville all day, spending time with Ryan—a therapy I didn't know how badly I needed. I roll off the bed and work on getting ready to go to sleep. Slipping on my pajamas, I clean off all the makeup still coating my face, and then crawl back into the bed closest to the window. Once I'm settled under the covers, I smile to myself. I think this weekend away is just what the doctor ordered.
21
RYAN
The next morning,I get up early, hitting the hotel gym for an hour or so before I have to get Bells. I didn’t sleep well, knowing she was in the room right next to me. She was so close but so far away, just like it has been for the last few months. It’s something I’m slowly growing accustomed to, no matter how much I dislike it. At the very least, I’m choosing to focus on the fact that she’s in my life at all. Even that is better than nothing. I finish styling my hair in the bathroom mirror, satisfied with how it looks. Grabbing my keys, wallet, and phone, I head out into the hallway and take a few steps to the room next to mine.
My knuckles rap on the door three times, but there’s no answer. I knock again. “Bells?” I click on my phone screen, seeing it’s already ten. There’s no way she could still be asleep.
Right before I resort to kicking the door in, Izabel opens it up and smiles. She has a washcloth pressed against her neck and a hairbrush in her hand.
“Morning, Ryan!” She steps back and allows me to walk into her room. I glance at her unsurely as I step in. “I just need a few more minutes. You can just hang out.”
Izabel scrambles back into the bathroom, shutting the door and locking it. The bed that she chose to sleep in by the windowis unmade, so I meander over and sit on the edge. She has the TV on to some kid’s cartoon, and I mindlessly watch as she finishes getting ready.
My mind rushes as I try to think about everything I have planned for today. I can’t deny that I’m feeling a bit of pressure to make sure that it’s perfect. I keep recalling the way her face lit up last night when I mentioned going to the Parthenon, and I’d do anything to keep that kind of happiness on her face.
It’s still a little jarring, getting to experience this side of her for the first time in what feels like ages, but I’m not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. I’ll take what I can get, and do whatever I can to make sure that beautiful smile sticks around.
It reminds me of better days and better times. Times when she could be herself without fear of any type of retribution. Even if she just gets to experience that freedom for a few days, I’m more than willing to be the one to provide her that safe space to do it.
It’s definitely more than just a “few minutes” before Izabel steps out of the bathroom. She gives me a big grin and does a little twirl, showing off her Fourth of July dress.
I can’t help the smile that forms on my face when she spins again for me. She looks beautiful, as always. She has a little bit more makeup on than I’m used to. Her eyelids are coated with a shimmery shadow, her lips painted red. But she’s gorgeous.
“Ready to go?” I ask, and she bobs her head, grabbing her purse from the dresser. “I thought we could stop for brunch since we missed the hotel breakfast.” I’m starving, so I hope she says yes.
“That sounds good to me. Where do you think?”
I don’t respond until we’re standing in the elevator. I press the button for the lobby, and we start descending. “I was looking through the pamphlet in my room. I think there’s a little breakfast joint down the road that we could check out.”
We both head out of the building and over to my car. I drive us to the diner, and we are seated right away, which is somewhat surprising since it’s a holiday. The waitress comes by, and we put in our orders: a slinger for me and French toast for Bells. It doesn’t take long for the waitress to bring out the food. Our plates are piled high and steaming as if it’s fresh off the griddle.
“Tell me something I don’t know, Bells,” I say as I take a big spoonful of potatoes, chili, and eggs.
Izabel looks at me wryly before stabbing a piece of her fancy toast. “I knew you were going to do this, so I came prepared.” She dramatically clears her throat and looks me square in the eye. “Did you know that the first Fourth of July fireworks happened in 1777? On the first anniversary of our independence?”
I can’t help the laugh that sneaks out at how serious her expression got. “I didn’t know that. I guess I just thought that was a more recent tradition.”
Bells shakes her head. “Nope, kind of makes it feel more sentimental, right? Like we’re really celebrating something rather than just blowing stuff up.”
I let my eyes trail over her face, a small smile playing on my lips. She’s got that wistful expression that I love so much. Whenever she talks about something she’s passionate about, her eyes get this dreamy look to them. Those blue depths illustrate how strongly she feels about the topic. I feel a knot in my throat, so I tear my eyes away from her before I do anything stupid like kiss her.
Yesterday afternoon I had a long phone conversation with Josie, explaining my situation. How infatuated I’m becoming with Bells again. How I’m feeling seeing that smile back on her face more often than it’s not. I’m trying my damnedest to keep that boundary I’ve drawn between us, but I can feel my defenses weakening with every minute I spend with her. Having Bellshere with me could be both a blessing and a curse. Only time will tell which one it turns out to be.
Josie was absolutely no help. She laughed and laughed when I told her that Bells commandeered my business trip—muttering something about how maybe we would finally be forced to face the music in Music City. It’s a fine line, which Josie herself is toeing too with her suggestion. Sure, there’s nothing I’d like better than to make a move on Izabel and help her move past the darkness that still follows her around, but I know that would be selfish of me to pretend that what she’s dealing with could be solved with something so simple. And that could backfire on me. The last thing I’d want would be for me to push the limit and force her to retreat.
“So tell me something I don’t know,” Bells says, her tone light and airy. “What really brought you back home? You said it was a family matter. Is it your mom?”
I swallow thickly and push a piece of sausage around on my plate. “Uh, why would you say that?”
Izabel looks at me with sadness in her eyes. “I noticed that something was off with her after the gala. I didn’t want to ask outright, though.”
“You should’ve just asked me,” I told her, though honestly, I’m not sure if I would have been open to telling her everything. Things are uncomfortable between us now, but they were even more strained right after the gala.
“I’m asking you now. Let me be here for you, Ry.”
I study her face again and consider what I want to tell her. I could lie, tell her everything was fine. She wouldn’t believe me, but she may accept the falsity, given our relationship. We haven’t been that person for each other in years.
