It Ends With Us (10 page)

“She’s great, huh?”

He leans against the island and says, “So. I think I just met The Beggar.”

My heart flutters down my chest. I think
The Neurosurgeon
has a better ring to it. I take another sip of my champagne. “How do you know it was him? Did he
introduce himself?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, but he overheard Marshall introducing me to someone as ‘
Lily’s date
.’ I thought the look he gave me was going to set
me on fire. That’s why I came in here. I like you, but I’m not willing to die for you.”

I laugh. “Don’t worry, I’m sure that death glare he gave you was really his smile. They’re superimposed most of the time.”

The door swings open again and I immediately stiffen, but it’s only a caterer. I sigh with relief. Devin says, “
Lily
,” like my name is a
disappointment.

“What?”

“You look like you’re about to puke,” he says, accusingly. “You really like him.”

I roll my eyes. But then I let my shoulders drop and I fake cry. “I do, Devin. I do, I just don’t
want
to.”

He takes my glass of champagne and downs the remainder of it, then locks his arm in mine again. “Let’s go mingle,” he says, pulling me out of the kitchen against my will.

The room is even more crowded now. There have to be more than a hundred people here. I’m not even sure I know that many people.

We walk around and work the room. I stand back while Devin does most of the talking. He knows someone in common with every person he’s met so far, and after about half an hour of following
him around, I’m convinced he’s made it a personal game to find someone in common with everyone here. The whole time I mingle with him, my attention is half on him and half on the room,
searching for traces of Ryle. I don’t see him anywhere and I begin to wonder if the guy Devin saw was even Ryle to begin with.

“Well, that’s odd,” a woman says. “What do you suppose it is?”

I look up and see that she’s staring at a piece of art on the wall. It looks like a photograph blown up on canvas. I tilt my head to inspect it. The woman turns her nose up and says,
“I don’t know why anyone would bother turning that photograph into wall art. It’s awful. It’s so blurry, you can’t even tell what it is.” She walks away in a
huff, and I’m relieved. I mean . . . it’s a bit weird, but who am I to judge Allysa’s taste?

“What do you think?”

His voice is low, deep, and
right
behind me. I close my eyes briefly and inhale a steadying breath before quietly exhaling, hoping he doesn’t notice his voice has
any effect on me whatsoever. “I like it. I’m not quite sure what it is, but it’s interesting. Your sister has good taste.”

He steps around me so that he’s at my side, facing me. He takes a step closer until he’s so close, he brushes my arm. “You brought a date?”

He’s asking it like it’s a casual question, but I know it isn’t. When I fail to respond, he leans in until he’s whispering in my ear. He repeats himself, but this time it
isn’t a question. “You brought a
date
.”

I find the courage to look over at him and instantly wish I hadn’t. He’s in a black suit that makes the scrubs look like child’s play. First I swallow the unexpected lump in my
throat and then I say, “Is it a problem that I brought a date?” I look away from him and back at the photograph hanging on the wall. “I was trying to make things easier on you.
You know. Just trying to
make it stop
.”

He smirks and then downs the rest of his wine. “How
thoughtful
of you, Lily.” He tosses his empty wineglass toward a trash can in the corner of the room. He
makes the shot, but the glass shatters when it hits the bottom of the empty container. I glance around me, but no one saw what just happened. When I look back at Ryle, he’s halfway down a
hallway. He disappears into a room and I stand here, looking at the picture again.

That’s when I see it.

The picture is blurred, so it was hard to make out at first. But I can recognize that hair from anywhere. That’s
my
hair. It’s hard to miss, along with the
marine-grade polymer lounge chair I’m lying on.
This is the picture he took on the rooftop the first night we met.
He must have had it blown up and distorted so no
one would notice what it was. I bring my hand to my neck, because my blood feels like it’s bubbling.
It’s really warm in here.

Allysa appears at my side. “It’s weird, huh?” she says, looking at the picture.

I scratch at my chest. “It’s really hot in here,” I say. “Don’t you think?”

She glances around the room. “Is it? I hadn’t noticed, but I’m a little drunk. I’ll tell Marshall to turn on the air.”

She disappears again, and the more I stare at the picture, the angrier I get. The man has a picture of me hanging in the apartment. He bought me flowers. He’s giving me attitude because I
brought a date to his sister’s party. He’s acting like there’s actually something between us, and we’ve never even kissed!

It all hits me at once. The anger . . . the irritation . . . the half glass of champagne I had in the kitchen. I’m so mad, I can’t even think straight. If the guy wants to have sex
with me so bad . . . he shouldn’t have fallen asleep! If he doesn’t want me to swoon, he shouldn’t buy me flowers! He shouldn’t hang cryptic pictures of me where he
lives!

All I want is fresh air. I need fresh air. Luckily, I know just where to find it.

Moments later, I burst through the door to the rooftop. There are stragglers from the party up here. Three of them, seated on the patio furniture. I ignore them and walk to the ledge with the
good view and lean over it. I suck in several deep breaths and try to calm myself down. I want to go downstairs and tell him to make up his damn mind, but I know I need to have a clear head before
I do that.

The air is cold, and for some reason, I blame that on Ryle. Everything is his fault tonight.
All of it.
Wars, famine, gun violence—it all somehow links back to
Ryle.

“Can we have a few minutes alone?”

I spin around, and Ryle is standing near the other guests. Immediately, all three of them nod and begin to stand up to give us privacy. I hold up my hands and say, “Wait,” but none
of them look at me. “It’s not necessary. Really, you don’t have to leave.”

Ryle stands stoically with his hands in his pockets while one of the guests mutters, “It’s fine, we don’t mind.” They begin to file back down the stairwell. I roll my
eyes and spin back toward the ledge once I’m alone with him.

“Does everyone always do what you say?” I ask, irritated.

He doesn’t respond. His footsteps are slow and deliberate as he closes in on me. My heart begins to beat like it’s on a speed-date, and I start scratching at my chest again.

“Lily,” he says from behind me.

I turn around and grip the ledge behind me with both hands. His eyes journey down to my cleavage. As soon as they do, I yank at the top of my dress so he can’t see it, and then I grip the
ledge again. He laughs and takes another step closer. We’re almost touching now, and my brain is mush. It’s pathetic. I’m pathetic.

“I feel like you have a lot to say,” he says. “So I’d like to give you the opportunity to speak your naked truth.”

“Hah!” I say with a laugh. “Are you sure about that?”

He nods, so I prepare to let him have it. I push against his chest and make my way around him so that he’s the one leaning against the ledge now.

“I can’t tell what you
want
, Ryle! And every time I get to the point where I start to not give a shit, you show up again out of the blue! You show up at my
work, you show up at my apartment door, you show up at parties, you . . .”

“I live here,” he says, excusing the last one. That pisses me off even more. I clench my fists.

“Ugh! You’re driving me crazy! Do you want me or do you
not
?”

He stands up straight and takes a step toward me. “Oh, I want you, Lily. Make no mistake about that. I just don’t
want
to want you.”

My whole body sighs at that comment. Partly out of frustration and partly because everything he says makes me shiver and I hate that I allow him to make me feel like this.

I shake my head. “You don’t get it, do you?” I say, softening my voice. I feel too defeated right now to keep yelling at him. “I like you, Ryle. And knowing that you only
want me for one night makes me really,
really
sad. And maybe if this were a few months ago, we could have had sex and it would have been fine. You would have walked away
and I could have easily moved on with my life. But it’s not a few months ago. You waited too long, and too many pieces of me are invested in you now, so please. Stop flirting with me. Stop
hanging pictures of me in your apartment. And stop sending me flowers. Because when you do those things, it doesn’t feel
good
, Ryle. It actually kind of
hurts.”

I feel deflated and exhausted and I’m ready to leave. He regards me silently, and I respectfully give him time to make his rebuttal. But he doesn’t. He just turns around, leans over
the ledge, and stares down at the street like he didn’t hear a single word I said.

I walk across the roof and open the door, half expecting him to call out my name or ask me not to leave. I get all the way back to the apartment before I finally lose all hope of that happening.
I push through the crowd and make it through three different rooms before I spot Devin. When he sees the look on my face, he just nods and begins to make his way across the room toward me.

“Ready to go?” he asks, looping his arm through mine.

I nod. “Yes.
So
ready.”

We find Allysa in the main living room. I tell her and Marshall goodnight, using the excuse that I’m just exhausted from opening week and I’d like to get some sleep before work
tomorrow. Allysa gives me a hug and walks us to the front door.

“I’ll be back on Monday,” she says to me, kissing me on the cheek.

“Happy birthday,” I say to her. Devin opens the door, but right before we step into the hallway, I hear someone yell my name.

I turn around and Ryle is pushing through the crowd on the other side of the room. “Lily, wait!” he yells, still trying to make his way over to me. My heart is erratic. He’s
walking quickly, stepping around people, growing more frustrated with every person in his way. He finally reaches a break in the crowd and makes eye contact with me again. He holds my gaze as he
marches toward me. He doesn’t slow down. Allysa has to step out of his way as he walks straight up to me. At first, I think he might kiss me, or at least give a rebuttal to everything I said
to him upstairs. But instead, he does something I’m not at all prepared for. He scoops me up into his arms.

“Ryle!” I yell, gripping him around the neck, afraid he might drop me. “Put me down!” He has an arm wrapped under my legs and one under my back.

“I need to borrow Lily for the night,” he says to Devin. “That okay?”

I look at Devin and shake my head, wide-eyed. Devin just smirks and says, “Be my guest.”

Traitor!

Ryle starts to turn and walk back toward the living room. I look at Allysa as I pass her. Her eyes are wide with confusion. “I’m going to kill your brother!” I yell at her.

Everyone in the entire room is staring now. I’m so embarrassed, I just press my face against Ryle’s chest as he walks me down the hallway and into his bedroom. Once the door is shut
behind us, he slowly lowers my feet back to the f loor. I immediately start to yell at him and try to push him out of the way of the bedroom door, but he spins me and shoves me against the door,
grabbing both of my wrists. He presses them against the wall above my head and says, “Lily?”

He’s looking at me so intently, I stop trying to fight him off of me and I hold my breath. His chest is pressing against mine, my back is pressed to the door. And then his mouth is on
mine. Warm pressure against my lips.

Despite the strength behind them, his lips are like silk. I’m shocked at the moan that rushes through me, and even more shocked when I part my lips and want more. His tongue slides against
mine and he releases my wrists to grab my face. His kiss grows deeper and I grasp at his hair, pulling him closer, feeling the kiss in my entire body.

Both of us become a medley of moans and gasps as the kiss brings us over the edge, our bodies wanting more than our mouths can deliver. I feel his hands as he reaches down and grabs my legs,
lifting me up and hooking them around his waist.

My God, this man can kiss. It’s as if he takes kissing as seriously as he takes his profession. He begins to pull me away from the door when I’m hit with the realization that yes,
his mouth is capable of a lot. But what his mouth has failed to do is respond to everything I told him upstairs.

For all I know, I’ve just given in. I’m giving him what he wants: a one-night stand. And that’s the last thing he deserves right now.

I pull my mouth from his and push on his shoulders. “Put me down.”

He keeps walking toward his bed, so I say it again. “Ryle, put me down right now.”

He stops walking and lowers me to the floor. I have to back away and face the other direction to gather my thoughts. Looking at him while I still feel his lips on mine is more than I can deal
with right now.

I feel his arms go around my waist, and he rests his head on my shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. He turns me around and brings a hand up to my face and brushes his thumb
across my cheek. “It’s my turn now, okay?”

I don’t respond to his touch. I keep my arms folded across my chest and wait to hear what he has to say before I allow myself to respond to his touch.

“I had that picture made the day after I took it,” he says. “It’s been in my apartment for months now, because you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen and I
wanted to look at it every single day.”

Oh.

“And that night I showed up at your door? I went searching for you because no one in the history of my life has ever crawled under my skin and refused to leave like you did. I didn’t
know how to handle it. And the reason I sent you flowers this week is because I am really, really proud of you for following your dream. But if I sent you flowers every time I’ve had the urge
to send you flowers, you wouldn’t even be able to fit inside your apartment. Because that’s how much I think about you. And yes, Lily. You’re right. I’m hurting you, but
I’m
hurting, too. And until tonight . . . I didn’t know why.”