Page 33 of Forever Fallen

Everything about Ryan Merrick was incredible… including their unassuming introduction.

He was like some lode magnet and she was a chunk of iron ore, drawn together instantaneously. Breathtakingly beautiful, seriously gentle, kind and understanding, to the point that it was hauntingly wonderful…

Ryan made her laugh in ways she never expected or anticipated – and she was going to lose that friendship, this amazing person, the moment he found out about the fine details of the will… and the letter.

She kept seeing her grandmother’s shaky scrawl on the vellum paper before her, memorizing each loop and ornate letter written in cursive. Her grandmother meant business and wanted this done her way – or else.

Hearing Ryan walking down the stairs, she slumped down in the bath and struggled to keep the tears from flowing.

How long was the shortest marriage ever recorded? Surely this would make the record books?

Why did the thought of his rejection bother her so much?

Sophie reached for the glass of wine beside the tub, desperate for some sort of answer to this entire mess… and realizing that there was no avoiding it.

She was going to have to tell him, sooner rather than later, and deal with the loss of someone all over again.

* * *

Almost an hour and a half later,Sophie cracked open the bathroom door and grabbed her things nervously, before shutting and locking it again. She expected to hear his laughter at her actions or to have seen him standing on the landing, just waiting.

It was a good thing that their budding friendship hadn’t progressed, gotten any further, or that she wasn’t more than an acquaintance to him, because once her life imploded a second time within a week?

Then she could pick up the pieces yet again and drown herself in a pint of chocolate ice cream.

Brushing her hair, slipping on her night gown and her terrycloth robe, she sinched the belt around her waist nervously. There was no reason to even bother to try to look nice, because she was about to ‘glass the field’to use the one military term she knew.

It meant ‘destroy everything and leave nothing behind’…

She had been dawdling, avoiding him, and her stomach was painfully reminding her that he’d cooked dinner.

It would at least give her something to throw up later…

Sighing heavily, she felt like she was headed for the guillotine as she walked down the stairs and spotted him, sitting in the chair. He had one foot propped on his opposite knee and was watching television.

The moment he spotted her, he stood up and waited.

“Feeling better?”

“Like a prune,” she admitted. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

“Something smells good,” she said nervously.

“Dinner,” he replied, watching her. “Come on and we can talk.”

“I’d rather not, Ryan…” she uttered quickly, nearly panicking. “Not yet. Later, just not yet. I can’t because it’s too much and I need to…”

“Sophie… Soph… whoa there,” he replied, holding up his hands and slowly walking towards her. “Hold on, dial back the blistering anxiety and paranoia to a small rolling simmer for just a moment.”

His arms slid around her, pulling her into a hug that she certainly didn’t deserve. She didn’t deserve any kindness from him…

“Let go of me…” she whispered painfully, pushing back, and felt him release her slightly before taking her hands in his.

“Talk,” he said bluntly. “I can’t read your mind.”

“Probably a good thing.”

---