Page 11 of Unlucky in Love
Her throat tightened.
The store tilted around her, just for a second, and she had to press her hand against the shelf to steady herself.
Someone had done this. For her. Someone had seen her at her most invisible and decided she deserved a story of her own.
She pressed the bookmark to her chest, eyes closing. For the first time in longer than she could remember, she smiled without forcing it.
The clerk glanced over as Taylor walked back toward the front. “Find what you were looking for?”
Taylor laughed softly, clutching the bookmark in her pocket. “I think so.”
She stepped back into the cold afternoon air, and the world looked different. The streets were the same, the balloons and paper hearts still mocked her from the lampposts, but for the first time, she didn’t mind.
Because someone, somewhere, had decided she was worth noticing.
Chapter 4
Ryan
Ryan had not done much to make his rental apartment feel like home. The furniture was borrowed, the walls were bare, and the only decoration was a battered duffel bag that leaned against the corner like it might bolt for the door at any moment. He had told himself he would add things later, once he decided if he was staying. For now, he kept it sparse, clean, and easy to walk away from.
The knock at the door came just as he had poured himself a cup of coffee. He frowned at the sound, set the mug down, and crossed the small living room.
Emma stood on the other side, her sweet, drooling baby strapped to her chest in a sling, looking like a little angel in sleep.
Emma’s hair was pulled into a messy bun that could only be described as battlefield chic.
“Do not tell me I look tired,” she warned as he opened the door.
Ryan stepped back, gesturing her in. “You look radiant, little sister.”
“Liar.” She trudged inside, dropping a diaper bag on the couch with a sigh of relief. “I figured I would check in on you while the baby finally napped. Consider yourself my adult interaction for the day.”
Ryan smiled faintly and shut the door. “Glad to be of service.”
She took in the apartment with a critical eye, then turned back to him. “This place is depressing. You need curtains. And maybe a plant. Something alive.”
“I am alive,” Ryan said dryly.
“Barely.” Emma poked at the duffel bag in the corner. “Still living out of this thing?”
“It works.” He shrugged. “I don’t need much.”
Emma’s expression softened, though she tried to hide it. “How are you doing? Really?”
Ryan reached for his coffee and took a sip before answering. He hated this question. Hated the way people asked it with too much sympathy or too much curiosity. Emma’s voice was gentler, though, not pitying, just steady.
“I’m fine,” he said finally.
“You came back from God knows where with dark circles under your eyes and a smile that looks like it’s in witness protection. Forgive me if I do not buy ‘fine.’”
Ryan gave her a wry look. “You always were bossy.”
“And you always avoided straight answers.” Emma adjusted the sling, rocking the baby lightly as she sat on the arm of the couch. “You’ve been back two weeks, and you spend most of your time browsing shops and overdosing on coffee. That is not you.”
Ryan stared into his mug. “Maybe I’m tired of being me.”
The words slipped out before he could stop them. Emma’s brow furrowed, and he could see the questions forming, theworry gathering. He held up a hand. “I just needed a break. I needed quiet.”
