Page 184 of One More Kiss

April

“How long doyou think we’ll be in here?” Thankfully, the claustrophobic feelings had subsided after my breakdown, along with the panic. Still, I had no desire to sit here all day. At some point, food and a bathroom would become necessities.

“Based on the intel from the genius on the call button, I’d say it’s anyone’s guess. Any idea how long we’ve already been stuck?”

I thought it was odd that Ryan didn’t have a watch or a cell phone, or if he didn’t, he didn’t bother to pull the phone out of his pocket to look. I glanced at my watch and realized how long ago I’d left my brother’s funeral. “About two hours.” The funeral seemed like a distant memory, and I felt guilty for not continuing to succumb to my grief, for allowing myself a little time away from the darkness that had surrounded me, encompassed me, and eaten at me for days.

“You doing okay? Physically, I mean.” Ryan’s sincerity blew me away. There was something in his eyes, the tone of his voice—it was just different from what I normally came across in the city.

Typically, I would have assumed the worst—this guy was a serial killer or a sex trafficker trying to reel me into his web of lies and deceit. That was the thought process a woman had to have in a city like New York. It wasn’t ever safe to be vulnerable, which was why I found Ryan so intriguing.

I rolled my head against the wall to face him and gave him a pathetic attempt at a smile, but it was all I could muster under the circumstances. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

He shifted against the wall to face me, still keeping his shoulder and head on the mirror behind us. “What makes you say that?” His eyes were stunning, alive with wonder where not too long ago, they had held something unidentifiable but heartbreaking all the same.

I gave him a half-hearted shrug. “I don’t know. You just seem to care. Most people around here are so busy going that they never stop to enjoy, much less check on someone else.”

“Maybe that’s how I am under normal circumstances—the typical New Yorker. Maybe I’m only this way because of where we are and the situation we’re stuck in.” He raised his brows as if he’d asked a question for me to consider.

I shook my head. That wasn’t possible. “No. I don’t believe that. You’re too practiced; it’s too natural. I can spot a fake a mile away. Women are good at that.”

He chuckled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes; it didn’t replace that broken thing inside him that flickered in and out. Maybe that was what I was seeing, not that he was different but that he was wounded. Somehow, he was masking whatever it was that kept changing in his eyes, but I still believed he was genuine, just reserved.

“So, what is it? If you’re from the city, then what’s your story?” I knew I was prying, but since he hadn’t answered the original question, he either wanted me to dig further or stop digging all together. The only way to know was to ask. I wasn’t typically a persistent person, not with the opposite sex anyway. I never had to be. Men came to me, and I turned them away. I didn’t have to chase them or pry—they always wanted to give me what they had to offer.

“I’ve been here most of my life.”

That was rather non-committal and certainly didn’t answer my questions. Well, it answered one of them, but not the important one. I wanted Ryan’s story, to know what had caused the pain I saw and what had made the glimpse of life surface that I’d seen a few minutes ago. But I’d just asked and hadn’t gotten much of an answer. I didn’t want to pry, but other than talk, we couldn’t do much.

Being surrounded by metal, I didn’t have a cell phone signal, so I couldn’t surf the web or text my friends or even make a phone call. My option was to sit in silence while we waited for help or to try to get to know the person I was trapped with. I didn’t know why it mattered, why it was so important to me. Nevertheless, there was something about Ryan that drew me in, called to my soul. It could have been that he’d been nice to me or that he’d listened when he didn’t have to. It might have been the comfort he’d provided to a stranger during the most difficult time of her life when he could have pretended she didn’t exist or that he hadn’t noticed. But Ryan hadn’t done any of those things, and there was a reason.

I turned my body into him instead of just my head, a subtle signal that I was intrigued by him. “Tell me something about yourself.”

Something changed in his eyes before he responded, and I knew immediately, he’d shut down again. “Not much to tell.”

“Sure, there is. Let’s start with the basics….” I didn’t want to ask what he did for a living. I hated the way that seemed to define people in this country, like what you do is who you are—no, that’s just how you earn money. “What’s your favorite color?”

His brows lifted again along with the corners of his mouth. “Yellow.”

I laughed, a deep rumble that caught me off guard. “Yellow? No one’s favorite color is yellow.”

He shrugged. “Mine is.”

“Okay, fair enough. Yellow. What’s your favorite type of music?”

“Classical, but you didn’t tell me your favorite color. If I’m answering questions, this is tit for tat. You have to reciprocate.”

“You’re quite the anomaly. Pink and country.”

We settled into a casual exchange, sharing mindless and useless information. It helped pass the time, but I wanted something more. I was desperate for a connection. After losing Alex, I just felt off. Nothing felt right and hadn’t since I’d gotten the call to come to the hospital. It wasn’t the right time to be thinking of a relationship or anything physical, but there was just something about Ryan that called to me, that comforted me, that made me want to know everything about him. Maybe it was the desperation of losing my other half, my twin, but what if it were more?

What if, by some odd happenstance, God had put him in my path to save me or to help me through—what had proven to be and would continue to do so—the most difficult thing I’d ever experience? I didn’t believe in serendipity. I knew every encounter was orchestrated just the way the sun knew where to rise and the waves knew where to crash. There was a purpose in everything. Every encounter had meaning; every interaction had reason. The only question was who was this purpose intended for—Ryan or me? I didn’t know his story, but I knew mine. And I had to believe Ryan was sent to me in a time of need, a kind soul to ease my pain, even if only briefly.

But I didn’t want it to be a short acquaintance. He was physically attractive—hell, who was I kidding? The man was gorgeous in a broody, quiet kind of way. He was strong, and I wanted to get to know him. It was more than that, though. He felt safe, and in a world like the one surrounding me, most people never felt safe, not even after knowing them for years. I always kept up my guard, but without even trying, he’d managed to get me to lower my walls and defenses. I’d opened up to him about the most tragic thing I’d ever endured and allowed a perfect stranger literally to hold me through the pain. There was something there, and I wanted to explore it.

There was just one problem with that—well, there were lots of problems, but one glaring one—I am not a typical, modern-day woman. I believe in traditional values, the roles women and men should play. And it isn’t in my nature to pursue a man, which was likely why I was single at twenty-eight. But I didn’t care. I thought someone would come into my life when he was supposed to, and the process would be natural.

I had no idea if Ryan was that person or not, but for the first time in my life, I felt like if he didn’t say something, initiate a continued relationship in some capacity beyond this elevator, that I had to do it. I couldn’t just let him walk away forever. There was a connection—imagined or not—and I wanted to explore it as much as I wanted to get out of this situation.

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