Chapter 28
Lily
Ispend the next few days resting and getting my bearings.
Ryder doesn’t come visit, which seems odd, but I guess if we’re not going out yet there isn’t a reason for it.
That’s not to say I don’t miss him terribly.
He’s become my best friend, and it isn’t just because he’s the only option.
It’s because he really sees me for who I am and doesn’t treat me like a little girl.
I might be doing some imaginative daydreaming about how a romance between us is going to emerge, with him escorting me around town and keeping me safe from potential harm. Come on, what girl doesn’t love a bodyguard romance?
But I don’t just fantasize about Ryder kissing me. I spent the first few days of the week catching up on all my schoolwork, and I’m actually ahead on my assignments. I’m itching to play the piano again, though, so when Wednesday finally arrives and it’s time for our first outing, I’m giddy.
Outing number one: Cookies & Kisses.
Luna asked Madeleine to keep the shop open for me, and she happily agreed.
So four nights after the fiasco at the flower festival, I get dressed in a knee-length gray sweater dress, black leggings, and black ankle boots.
My hair is still wavy from the braid it’s been in for the last few days, so I just fluff it out and pull half of it up.
Should I do makeup? I don’t want Ryder to think I’m trying too hard. It’s not for him, though. It’s for me. I deserve to feel pretty after being locked away for so long. I keep it simple—just some mascara and blush—and call it a night.
I met with my new therapist this afternoon on Zoom—loved her—and she suggested having a “calming item,” something tangible that I could hold on to and focus on to ground me when my thoughts and feelings get too strong. Maybe I should grab something before we leave. But what?
I rummage through my drawers, trying to find something that will work. Lip gloss? Compact mirror? Nothing seems right.
“What are you doing?” Ryder’s voice sounds behind me, and I straighten quickly. I didn’t even hear the door open with my frenzied search.
I almost sigh audibly at the sight of him—his brown hair that waves effortlessly on his forehead, his perceptive gray eyes, his flirtatious muscles…
Snap out of it!
“Ryder! Hey! I’m…looking for something.”
“I see that,” he says, taking a few steps over. “What is it? Can I help?”
“I don’t know…” Why am I so embarrassed to say this out loud?
Ryder is the one who suggested therapy in the first place.
He was there in the throes of my panic attack, and he knows better than anyone what I’m going through.
But I haven’t seen him in a few days, and I don’t want this to be the first thing we talk about.
I sigh, resigned. “My therapist suggested a ‘calming item,’ something I can hold if I start panicking again.”
Ryder nods thoughtfully. “Ah. Did you have something specific in mind?”
I shake my head. “Nothing seems right.”
He looks pensive. Then he starts patting his pockets and pulls out a keychain. “Maybe this would work,” he says, handing it to me.
I look at the glittering green lizard in my hand. It’s heavier than I expected, made out of a smooth, translucent stone. “A…gecko?” I ask.
“Chameleon,” he replies. “His name is Galileo.”
I arch a brow at him. “You named your keychain?”
He shrugs and gives me a lopsided smirk, sending my heart fluttering. “He’s a cool little dude.”
I look back down at the chameleon—Galileo—and feel a smile form on my face. “I think this could work.” A moment of guilt washes over me. “Are you sure? Is this special to you?”
He pauses, then smirks, but keeps an intense look in his gray eyes. “I think he serves a higher purpose with you.” He pulls up his sleeve, showing me the bracelet I made him. He still wears it? “Besides, I’ve got this now.”
I wrap my fingers tightly around Galileo, my eyes still on Ryder. The chameleon’s little legs and tail press into my palm, and a weight is lifted off my chest.
Ryder grins at me, and we stand there smiling at each other for a minute. In a flash, the smile disappears, and now he’s all serious. “Ready to go?” he asks.
I’m taken aback by his sudden change in mood. Furrowing my brow, I nod.
His expression softens, and he asks. “Are you nervous?”
“Not really. It helps knowing that I’m just visiting Mason and Madeleine.” And knowing that you’ll be here, I think but don’t say.
He holds open the door for me, and we pad down the steps of the tower. Agatha’s already waiting for us at the bottom of the stairs, a big grin on her face. “Have a lovely evening, you two.”
“Thank you, Aunt,” I say, giving her a big hug.
She squeezes me tight and whispers in my ear. “You’ll be safe. Enjoy yourself.” She releases me and turns to Ryder. “Have fun. Be safe.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replies.
Then we head out onto the cold, dark street. Alone.
There’s no one out here—that was the whole point of going out this late at night—but I can’t help the way my heart races in my chest, my breathing starting to feel tight, my…
“How did your therapy session go?” Ryder asks, interrupting my thoughts.
“Great, actually,” I reply, forcing myself to focus on Ryder. “Raquel is really sweet and encouraging.”
“Yeah?”
I nod, taking a deep breath before explaining.
“When I told her about the panic attack at the market, she made me feel like what I went through was normal, and that my body is just reacting to the stress of being in public again. As if it’s in danger, even though it’s just imagined in my mind, and that my brain is trying to protect me.
And then she told me I was brave for trying.
” I blink back tears, just like the ones that fell during my therapy session when I felt like I was finally understood and heard.
I clear my throat and continue. “She gave me a few tips. One is box breathing, where I inhale for four counts, hold for four counts, exhale for four counts, and hold for four counts. It’s similar to what you…
” My voice trails off at the memory of my hand on Ryder’s chest when he told me to match his breathing.
I don’t think I enjoyed that as fully as I could have.
“Slowing your breathing down is one of the fundamental steps,” he says, seemingly not flustered in the least.
“Right. Yes. And then she said our idea of introducing me back into public with smaller groups sounded like the perfect plan, gradually working my way to the larger festivals and markets.”
“That’s great,” Ryder says. “I’m so glad you met with her.”
“Me, too.”
“So that helped you feel better about going to Cookies & Kisses?” he asks.
“Definitely,” I reply. “And it’s perfect, because I’m comfortable with Madeleine and Mason. Did you know Madeleine helped my brother Henry propose to Luna?”
He shakes his head, so I regale him with the story of all the custom cookies my brother asked Madeleine to make that told the story of how they met—twice—and fell in love.
Ryder listens carefully, smiling when appropriate, but I can feel a distance between us.
Where’s the Ryder who tucked me into bed after my panic attack and defended me to my siblings? But it’s too awkward to ask.
Soon enough, Ryder’s opening the door to Cookies & Kisses. The smell of vanilla and cinnamon wafts toward me, and I feel warm all inside. Madeleine is standing behind the counter, and she smiles widely as we walk in.
“Lily! I’m so happy you’re here!” She gestures at the stools set up at the counter. “Sit, sit. Do you want something to drink? Coffee? Tea?”
“Any chance you have hot chocolate?” I ask.
“Yes!” She pushes the swinging door behind her and calls to Mason. “Can you get some hot chocolate going?”
“Sure thing,” he calls back.
“Mason’s here?” Ryder asks, his voice pitched a little higher.
I furrow my brow at him. “Why are you being weird?”
Madeleine gestures to me. “Yeah, what’s that all about?” she asks. “Mason was all grumpy when he saw you a couple weeks ago.”
“Uh, nothing,” he says, but I see the red tint on his cheeks.
“Ooh, did you and Peter do something stupid?” I taunt.
“Maybe,” he replies. He glances at Madeleine and back at me, then adds in a lower voice, “But Mason totally deserved it.”
I giggle, and Madeleine just shakes her head.
Ryder sets his hands on the counter. “So. What kind of cookies have you got for us?”
“I don’t know why you think you’re getting cookies,” Madeleine says with a grin. “This is all about Lily.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll share,” I whisper to Ryder.
“You better,” he replies.
Madeleine reaches under the counter and produces a white tray. “I kind of went all out for you,” she says.
My hands fly up to my mouth. There are the classic chocolate chip cookies, but then there’s an assortment of macarons, snickerdoodles, peanut butter blossoms, and sugar cookies. I can’t decide which to eat first, and a little squeal erupts from my lips.
Ryder chuckles beside me. “You’re that excited over cookies?”
“Didn’t you have some a few weeks ago? When you met Madeleine here?”
Ryder shakes his head. “Henry scared me with his talk about booby traps, and I never tried any before Gwen finished them.”
I look at him, my eyes wide. “Trust me, they’re worth it.” I settle on a pink macaron and sink my teeth into the pillowy cookie. Raspberry. I close my eyes and savor the taste. “This. Is. Incredible.”
“Yay, thank you!” Madeleine says.
Ryder chuckles and chooses a chocolate macaron for himself. His eyes widen as he takes a bite, and he lets out a little groan that sets a fire in my belly. “Okay, I take back everything I said before. You were right to be excited.”
“See?” I take another bite and hum in appreciation. “This is the best.”
“I’m so glad you love them,” Madeleine says.
Mason emerges from the kitchen, and I don’t miss the glare he sends Ryder’s way, but he doesn’t linger on it. He hands us two steaming mugs of hot chocolate, and I feel like a little girl again, but in a good way. It’s like I get to relive the best parts of my childhood.
Ryder and I enjoy our cookies and hot chocolate together. He only eats his macaron and one peanut butter blossom, but I take a few bites of everything.
“I can’t choose a favorite,” I say after I’m done. “They’re all so good.”
“Thank you,” Madeleine says again. “But I have one more treat for you.”
“Really?”
She nods and lifts the counter to let us in. “Come on, it’s in the kitchen.”
I follow Madeleine to the back, Ryder behind me, and she shows me a setup at the counter of plain cookies…in the shape of a piano.
“I thought you might want to try decorating cookies,” she says, gesturing at the cookies and the icing in piping bags.
“Oh!” I squeal. “I’ve watched so many videos of cookie decorating but never tried. I’d love to!”
“Perfect!” Madeleine stands by my side and instructs me on how to pipe the icing on the cookie and smooth it out.
“Ryder, you can do one, too,” she says, handing him a cookie.
Ryder shrugs and takes a step next to me, rolling up his black sleeves to reveal the bracelet I made for him, and above that, his forearms.
Muscled, veined forearms with a light dusting of brown hair.
Ugh.
I did not need to see all of that.
“Here,” Madeleine says, handing him the black icing. “This looks right up your alley.”
He chuckles and starts outlining his piano cookie neatly.
I grab the pastel purple icing bag. Forget reality, I’m making a purple piano cookie. I squeeze the bag, but nothing comes out. I try again—still nothing.
“Hmm,” I say, turning the bag around to look at the tip. Maybe something’s blocking it. I peer at the opening and squeeze a little…and the icing shoots straight at my face and into my eyes.
“Agh!” I cry.
“Oh, no!” Madeleine says. “Let me grab you a towel!” She runs out of the kitchen, and I try my best to wipe off what I can, but I swear some of the icing actually went straight into my eyeball.
I’m bouncing on the tips of my toes and squealing, trying to wipe off icing with my eyes squeezed shut, when I feel a strong hand on my wrist.
“Here. Let me help.” Ryder’s voice stills my body.
I stand frozen as I feel fabric on my cheek, then gently on my eye. When he pulls away, I open my eyes quickly and catch a glimpse of him pulling his shirt back down. And for just the quickest moment, I get a peek at his stomach.
Holy abs.
The bottom of his shirt is stained purple from the icing, so that must be what he was using to clean my face.
That shirt…that touches his glorious abs…was just on my face.
Okay, that sounds kind of gross, but it’s really not. Not even close.
“Uh, thanks,” I say, turning back to my cookie.
“You still have some right here,” he says, and he wipes his thumb gently under my eye.
I let my eyes flutter shut again, and I turn my head to face him.
The spot he touches feels like it’s on fire, but I don’t flinch.
His skin is rough, but not unpleasant. I wait for him to move away, but his hand stays on my cheek, his thumb gently caressing my skin.
Not caressing. Just wiping off icing. But this feels an awful lot like a caress and not so much like someone cleaning another person’s face. Does he feel something? Is this more than—
Lily, stop!
My eyes spring open, and the expression on Ryder’s face looks a lot like…well, like I pictured it would. Eyes soft, a small smile, and a piercing gaze looking directly into mine.
This is not helping my overactive imagination.
I swallow hard. “All clean?”
He blinks twice, as if coming to his senses, and snaps his hand away. “Yep. All good.” He wipes his hand on his pants, leaving another trail of purple icing against the black fabric.
“Cool. Thanks.” I look back down at the counter, knowing my cheeks are flushing like crazy, and start squirting purple icing on my piano cookie.
Oh, boy. I’m in trouble.