Chapter 33
Ryder
Ican’t believe I kissed Lily last night.
At the same time, I knew it was coming. I was only fighting against myself.
I wake the next morning with a big grin on my face. Lily told me to come over as soon as I was up, so I get dressed quickly in my signature black. In the kitchen, I find Gwen typing on her laptop. I try to make my coffee without disturbing her, but her voice stops me short. “You had quite a night.”
I look over and see a smile on her face, even though her eyes are still glued to her screen. “Uh…yes.”
“Don’t worry. I actually approve.” She takes off her glasses and looks up at me. “Lily is the sweetest. I’m not surprised you fell for her.”
“She’s more than sweet. She’s kind and beautiful, and her passion is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. When she plays the piano, the whole world fades away, and…” Heat rises on my neck and cheeks, and I turn my back to Gwen under the guise of grabbing a coffee mug. “And yeah. She’s sweet.”
Gwen laughs out loud. “Okay, you’re totally gone for her.”
I shrug a shoulder, my back still to her.
“All right. We don’t have to talk about it. But you do need to talk to Peter.”
“Yeah, I know.” I put a coffee pod in the machine and press the start button, then turn around and lean against the counter, folding my arms over my chest. “You don’t think he’ll be mad, right?”
“Oh, he’ll be livid.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I mutter.
“It’s a good thing he didn’t see that display last night. You guys were all over each other. Thank you for the inspiration, by the way. I needed to write a kissing scene this morning.”
I roll my eyes but smile.
“I guess I should be thanking Lucy,” she adds. “She’s the one who saw you guys first.”
“Lucy?” I reply.
“The redhead with the polka dot dress. She’s new to Brookhaven. I think she actually moved here a week or two before you.”
I nod, vaguely remembering her. I was a little too focused on Lily to notice.
My coffee finishes, and I take a sip. “How’s your novel going?”
Gwen sighs, putting her black frame glasses back on and looking at the computer screen. “It’s all right. I feel like it’s missing something, though. It’s kind of…flat? Like it’s missing character development. And the romance is a little lackluster.”
“Huh.” I know what the problem is, but I’d never say it to her.
Actually, there are two problems: one, Gwen has always done the easy thing and never forged her own path.
Even her parents don’t know about her writing, despite the success she’s already found and her desire to make it her only career.
Second, she has no romance in her life. Maybe it’s weird for me to know that about my cousin, but she’s been so stuck on Peter since she was a little girl that no one has even made an impact.
The poor girl needs a boyfriend and a sense of direction.
But that’s not my problem today. Because last night, I kissed Lily. I finally got to hold her and tell her how I felt, and she feels the same. Everything is turning around.
“Oh, you’re pathetic,” Gwen says, snapping me out of my thoughts of Lily.
“What? I’m not…”
“You can’t hide that goofy grin from me.”
I scowl at her, then decide not to fight my smile. “Fine. I’m pathetic. But she’s worth it.”
Gwen’s eyes soften at that declaration, but I don’t need to stay here longer than necessary.
“All right, I’m out of here,” I say.
“But you barely took a sip of coffee.”
I dump the rest down the drain. “I’ll be fine,” I reply. Seeing Lily will give me all the energy I need.
I climb the steps of Lily’s tower and hear orchestral music coming from her room, just like that night when we lay on the floor and I had my first real experience with classical music.
I knock on the door, but the music is too loud for her to hear, so I just press the hidden button and open it.
Lily is baking in the kitchen, and her eyes light up as soon as she sees me. “Ryder!” She places her bowl on the counter, wipes her hands on the apron around her waist, and runs to me.
I catch her as she launches herself at me, the smile on my face matching the one on hers, and greet her with a kiss.
She pulls away after a minute and sighs. “I love that I can do that now.”
I smirk. “Yeah, me too.” I nod my head toward the kitchen. “What are you making?”
“Only your favorite. More sourdough.”
I groan. “You spoil me.”
She pulls me by the hand toward the kitchen, then taps her phone to turn off the music. “Don’t get too excited. I’m just making the dough this morning. So you’ll have to wait until tomorrow to eat it.”
“Lame.”
She rolls her eyes and drops my hand. She wets her hands in the sink and starts digging into the dough. “I just have to stretch and fold it for the next few hours, and then it’ll be ready to rise.” She pulls the dough around the edges and folds it over, then covers it with a towel.
“Now what?” I ask.
She leans her hip against the counter and grins. “Now we wait another hour until it’s time to stretch and fold again.”
“And whatever will we do with that time?” I ask, a suggestive tone in my voice.
She taps her chin and looks up at the ceiling. “Hmm,” she muses. Her eyes light up. “I know! I have an essay I need to write.” She rushes over to her computer at the kitchen table.
“That’s not what I meant,” I mutter.
“Come on, it’ll be fun.” She sits in her chair and opens her laptop, but I scoop her up out of her chair, sit down first, then set her on my lap. She giggles and leans her back against my chest, and I press a kiss to the top of her head.
She opens her assignment and reads it to me, but I can’t concentrate when I have her citrus-scented hair next to my face, holding her body against mine.
“See? This is the perfect essay for you to help with.” She turns her head to look at me, but I haven’t been looking at the screen at all.
“I’m sorry, I’m a little distracted.”
She taps my nose. “Fine. I just thought you’d love to share your opinions on your favorite book-to-movie adaptation and why it’s The Count of Monte Cristo.”
I glance at the screen and realize that’s the prompt—an essay describing your favorite movie adaptation of a book, along with criticisms of why others might not enjoy it.
“Oh, well now that you mention it…” I lift her off my lap and set her on her own seat, then open her word processor and begin typing.
“Ryder!” She shoves my hands off the keys and laughs, the sound like music. I pull her back onto my lap and lean into her. This time, I linger, breathing her in, before bringing my lips to hers.
Last night, I kissed her with all the fire I’ve been holding back for weeks. But this morning, I take my time. I brush my mouth against hers once, twice, three times before pressing against her soft lips for a proper kiss.
She melts into me, and I revel in the feel of her against me. All I want is to keep her safe, shielding her from her past hurts, but giving her the chance to experience everything the world has to offer. Because she can bring so much light to this world.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, disrupting our moment.
Lily pulls back. “Want to check that?”
“Not really,” I grumble. “But I should.” I pull the phone out of my pocket, seeing an unknown number. “Probably a telemarketer.” I pocket my phone and am about to kiss her again when Agatha bursts into the room.
“Oh, my! I’m sorry for the interruption,” she says loudly, stepping over the two of us and into the kitchen.
Lily’s face flushes, and we both scramble to stand. “Sorry, Aunt,” she mumbles.
Agatha waves her hand. “I was young and in love once, too.”
My mouth drops open, and out of the corner of my eye, I see Lily’s open, too.
Agatha? In a romantic relationship?
What?! Lily mouths to me. I shrug a shoulder.
“It’s time for some scones,” Agatha calls out from the kitchen. “Lily, come help me make some tea.”
“Now?” Lily asks. “That’s usually our afternoon treat.”
“I have a hankering for it now,” Agatha replies.
My phone starts buzzing again in my pocket. I pull it out—same number.
Lily furrows her brow at me. “Maybe you should take that.”
“At the very least to tell them to stop calling me,” I reply.
Lily walks over to Agatha, and I click the green button, taking the call. “Hello?”
“Hello, is this Ryder Hawthorne?” A man’s voice rings in my ear, sounding somewhat familiar but impossible to place.
“Yes. May I ask who is calling?”
A pause. “I’m not sure if you’ll believe me.” I can hear a smile in his voice, but it puts me more on edge than at ease.
“Try me,” I say, my voice flat.
I hear a low chuckle on the other end. “My name is Tristan Jackson.”