Chapter 30
Lily
Over the last week, I’ve basically been on a food tour of Brookhaven.
First was A Scoop of Sweet, Rosco’s ice cream shop.
Then it was Suzette and her husband’s bread shop, The Golden Hearth, followed by tea at Love & Lavender (and I barely slept the rest of the night).
Tonight we’re here at Aram’s kabob shop, creatively named The Kabob Shop.
If I have to pick a favorite, it’s probably here.
It’s not anything exciting to look at, with red plastic seats and framed pictures of the Armenian alphabet around the walls, but the food is incredible.
Of course, every night ends with a session on the piano.
I almost feel normal again. I haven’t had any panic attacks, partly because I’ve been able to recognize the symptoms and nip them in the bud.
I slow my breathing and grip Galileo in my palm, letting his sharp corners ground me back to reality.
And having Ryder’s steady presence calms my nerves more than anyone else.
“Aram, this is”—I chew and swallow—“the best food I’ve ever eaten in my entire life.”
“Ah, there’s nothing like eating the meat straight off the fire,” he says proudly, turning the skewer of lamb kabobs on his grill. “Now, if you want to complete the experience, I can get you a shot of vodka.”
“No, no,” I say with a laugh. “I’m only nineteen. Almost twenty!” I hold up a finger. “But still. Not legal yet.”
“Fine.” He huffs and turns to Ryder. “You like the kabob?”
Ryder nods enthusiastically, holding his piece of lamb kabob wrapped in pita bread. “I have never eaten like this in my life.”
“Armenians make the best food,” he says, puffing out his chest.
Two little girls rush out of the kitchen and past us, squealing and laughing.
“Ani! Mari! Careful!” Aram calls out. He looks at us apologetically. “My granddaughters. They’re a little wild.”
“Isn’t it late for them to be awake?” I ask, double-checking the time on the clock on the wall—ten thirty.
“Eh. It’s a special occasion.” He winks at me and turns back to his grill.
I smile to myself and take a big bite of rice pilaf.
“Happy?” Ryder asks next to me.
I nod and grin. “I want to eat this every day for the rest of my life.”
He chuckles and keeps eating, too.
I’m so confused about Ryder. He asks questions all the time and listens, really listens, to my answers.
I feel so special and important when I’m around him.
But this past week, he’s pulled away. He hasn’t intentionally touched me since wiping the frosting off my face, even though I’ve touched his forearm or shoulder here or there.
He’s not pushing me away, but he’s not inviting my touch, either.
So I’m stuck accepting my reality, even though I thought there really could be something between us. I’m his best friend’s little sister. He probably still sees me as a little girl who needs to be babysat.
Blech.
I refuse to let my imagination run wild. This is where I went wrong with Tristan. I took any morsel he fed me and turned them into an entire meal, hoping for a future with him where I’d get to create the family I’ve always dreamed of.
I can’t do that again.
So I fight my attraction to Ryder. Not only is he kind, handsome, and rugged—hello, stunt man!
—I know better than to believe my fairy tales and rom-com movies can actually come true.
The bodyguard doesn’t actually fall for the girl he’s protecting.
The guy doesn’t actually fall for his best friend’s little sister.
This is the real world, and I need to accept that.
“My nieces and nephew are visiting next week,” Aram says, breaking my thoughts. He has a mischievous glint in his eyes. “My nephew, Garen, and his two sisters. Have you heard of him?”
I shake my head, not sure how I would have heard of him.
“Garen Nazarian. He’s a professional video game player. I thought with your brother’s company maybe you’d know him.”
“Ah. No, I’m not as involved in the esports scene.” I furrow my brow. “But that last name—Nazarian. How do I know that?”
“Maybe Emma?” He grins at me with a hint of pride. “She has a TED Talk on YouTube. ‘Exceptional Emma.’”
I gasp and cover my mouth. “Emma is your niece? I love her!”
The smile on his face stretches even wider. “As do I. She just needed a little time to love herself.”
“Who’s Emma?” Ryder asks quietly next to me.
“She went on this journey to find what makes her ‘exceptional.’ She tried all kinds of hobbies and was actually really amazing at photography, but it broke her. So she did a TED Talk where she explains what it really means to be ‘exceptional’ and how she found that balance in her life.” I shake my head.
“Super inspirational. I loved her story.”
“Interesting. I’ll have to check it out.” Ryder pulls his phone out of his pocket and starts typing Emma’s name into the search engine.
“I’ll have to introduce you to Garen next week,” Aram says, his back to us. “I don’t think he has a girlfriend.” He turns and winks at me over his shoulder.
Ryder slams his phone on the table, making me jump and Aram furrow his brow. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Ryder says firmly.
“Mmmkay…why?” I ask.
“It’s just…” Ryder looks at me, then back at Aram, and his eyes narrow. “I just think that maybe you don’t need to meet people who…you know…aren’t from Brookhaven.”
“Uh huh,” I say, unconvinced.
“And you don’t need to get into any kind of, you know, romantic relationship right now.”
My eyebrows shoot all the way up my forehead. I catch a glimpse of Aram’s wide eyes and smirk as he turns back to the grill. “I don’t think you need to be worried about my romantic relationships,” I say to Ryder in a furious whisper.
“I’m not worried,” he retorts. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“How about you stick to your lane?” I say. “Protecting me from actual danger and all that. I can handle the rest.”
He huffs and stands. “I’ll wait outside for you to finish.” He pushes his chair in with a loud scratch and storms out of the restaurant.
What in the world was that?
“I haven’t seen a man that jealous in a long time,” Aram muses.
“What?” I ask.
He turns and faces me, pointing at the door. “That man is jealous.”
“No, no,” I reply quickly. “He’s not… We’re not…”
Aram snorts. “You can tell yourself whatever you’d like.” He turns back to the grill and grabs a skewer, sliding the meat off the stick and onto my plate with a piece of pita. “Eat. You’re too skinny.”
I chuckle and make myself a little sandwich, but I don’t take a bite until I look outside and catch one more glimpse of Ryder standing with his back to the restaurant, hands clasped behind his back.
Could Aram be right?
Is he…jealous?