Chapter 54
CHAPTER
FIFTY-FOUR
JULIE
I change my outfit four times before Ryan arrives.
In the end I go with a beautiful a sundress.
Feminine. Pretty. Classic. I assess myself in the mirror.
The dress is cream with tiny blue flowers scattered across it.
It has thin straps and hits just above my knees.
It's simple. Pretty. And most importantly, it makes me feel like me.
I pair it with sandals and leave my hair down, loose waves falling past my shoulders. Minimal makeup. No performance. When the doorbell rings at exactly seven, my stomach does a flip.
I open the door and Ryan is standing there in jeans and a navy button-down with the sleeves rolled up. His hair is slightly messy, like he ran his fingers through it on the drive over. He's holding a single sunflower. This man is so unfairly good-looking.
"Hi," he says, and his smile is so genuine it makes my chest ache.
"Hi."
He hands me the flower. "I know I already brought you flowers the other day, but I saw this at the market and thought of you."
"A sunflower?"
"Yeah. They're happy. Bright. They turn toward the sun." He shrugs, looking almost embarrassed. "I don't know. It just felt right."
I take it from him, my throat tight. "It's perfect. Thank you."
Twenty minutes later, we pull up to a small restaurant in Fremont I've never been to before.
It's called The Whale Wins, and from the outside it looks unassuming—brick exterior, big windows, string lights hanging over the patio.
Inside, it's warm and inviting. Exposed wood beams, communal tables, an open kitchen where you can see the chefs working.
It's loud. People are laughing. There's music playing—something folksy and upbeat. The smell of wood-fired vegetables and fresh bread fills the air. "This okay?" Ryan asks as we're seated at a small table by the window.
"It's perfect," I say, and I mean it. It’s not forcing romance down my throat. It isn’t fake or overly expensive or some kind of play. It’s real. Like he is.
The server comes over—a woman in her twenties with a nose ring and a bright smile. "Hey, guys! First time here?"
"For her, yeah," Ryan says. "I've been a few times."
"Awesome. So everything's meant to be shared, family-style. We've got a great wood-fired cauliflower tonight, and the pork chop is killer. Can I start you off with drinks?"
Ryan looks at me. "Soda? Wine? Beer? Cocktail? What’re you in the mood for?"
Another difference between Ryan and Asher is that Ryan always asks. He doesn’t steamroll and assume he knows better.
"Wine sounds good."
"We'll do a bottle of Chardonnay" Ryan says. "And maybe some bread to start?"
"Perfect. I'll be right back."
When she leaves, I look around the restaurant again. "This is so different."
"Different good or different bad?"
"Different good." I smile. "Really good."
"I wanted to take you somewhere that felt... I don't know. Real. Not stuffy or pretentious. Just good food and good vibes."
"Mission accomplished."
The wine arrives, and Ryan pours us each a glass. We order the cauliflower, the pork chop, roasted carrots, and a kale salad that the server promises isn't as boring as it sounds.
"To new beginnings," Ryan says, raising his glass.
I clink mine against his. "To new beginnings."
The wine is delicious. Not the kind of wine Asher would order, the kind that costs more than most people's rent.
"So," Ryan says, leaning back in his chair. "Tell me something I don't know about you."
I giggle. "You know pretty much everything at this point."
"I know the big stuff. The hard stuff. But I don't know the little things. Like... what's your all-time favorite movie?"
I don’t even have to think about it. "The Princess Bride."
"Classic."
"What about you?"
"The Shawshank Redemption."
"Of course it is."
He laughs. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It's the most Ryan answer possible. Hopeful. About not letting things out of your control break you, perseverance, and never giving up."
"Fair." He takes a sip of wine. "Okay, next question. If you could go anywhere in the world right now, where would you go?"
"Honestly? Nowhere. I just got back from three months of traveling. I think I'm good staying put for a while."
"Good point. What about when you're ready to travel again?"
I think about it. "Maybe Iceland.”
"Iceland's incredible. I went a few years ago with some buddies. We did the whole Ring Road thing."
"What was your favorite part?"
"The hot springs. There's this one called Reykjadalur—you have to hike up to it, and it's just this natural river that's perfectly warm. We sat in it for hours, just talking and watching the steam rise."
I can picture it. Ryan in a hot spring, laughing with his friends, completely at ease. "That sounds amazing."
"It was." He pauses. "I'd love to go back. Show you all the spots."
My heart does that stupid fluttering thing again. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
The food arrives, and it's as good as it smells.
We eat family-style, passing plates back and forth, stealing bites off each other's forks.
It's easy. Comfortable. Fun. Ryan lets me try everything.
He laughs when I steal the last bite of pork chop.
He doesn't care that I'm talking with my mouth full or that I accidentally spilled a few drops of wine on the table.
"Okay," he says, refilling my glass. "Real talk. How are you doing? Like, actually doing?"
I set my fork down. "Better. Most days."
"And the bad days?"
"They're still there. But they're getting fewer."
"That's good."
"Yeah." I take a breath. "Can I ask you something?"
"Anything."
"Do you ever..." I trail off, trying to find the words. "Do you ever wonder if I'm going to be okay? Like, really okay?"
He doesn't hesitate. "No."
"No?"
"No. Because I know you will be. You're one of the strongest people I've ever met, Julie. You've been through hell, and you're still here. Still fighting. Still rebuilding. That's not something everyone can do."
Tears prick at my eyes. “Sometimes I don't feel strong."
"You don't have to feel it for it to be true."
I look down at my plate. "I'm scared, Ryan."
"Of what?"
"Of this. Of us. Of..." I swallow hard. "Of never being able to trust anyone again."
He reaches across the table and takes my hand. "That's understandable."
"Is it?"
"Of course it is. Asher lied to you about everything. He manipulated you, gaslit you, made you question your own reality. That kind of betrayal doesn't just go away."
"I keep thinking..." I pause, trying to articulate the fear that's been gnawing at me. "I keep thinking that a part of me will always wonder if people are telling the truth. If anything is real."
Ryan squeezes my hand. "I get that."
"Do you?"
"Yeah. Because if I were in your shoes, I'd feel the same way."
"So what do I do? How do I move past it?"
"I don't know if you ever fully move past it," he says honestly. "But I think you learn to trust again. Slowly. With the right person."
"And if I can't?"
"Then we'll figure it out. Together."
I look at him, this man who has been my constant through everything. "What if I need reassurance? Like, a lot of reassurance?"
"Then I'll give it to you."
"What if I want to look at your phone? Or ask you a million questions? Or?—"
"Julie." He cuts me off gently. "You can look at my phone anytime you want. You can ask me anything. I have nothing to hide. My life is an open book and always has been. I’ve never been like Asher because that’s not how I was raised.
If you need to see my texts, my emails, my bank statements, whatever you want, I'll show you. No questions asked."
"You'd really do that?"
"Of course I would. I'm not hiding anything. I'm not manipulating you or playing games. What you see is what you get. I’m not a cheater and I never will be. If I was unhappy or I wanted something different, I’d fucking say it. People who cheat are fucked in the head.”
Tears spill over, and I wipe them away quickly. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be so?—"
"Don't ever apologize for telling me your truth. You have every right to be cautious. To protect yourself. And I'm going to do everything I can to show you that I'm safe. That this is safe."
"How?"
"By being consistent. By showing up. By telling you the truth, even when it's hard. By never making you guess where I stand or how I feel." He pauses. "And by giving you as much time as you need."
I nod, unable to speak.
"I'm not going anywhere, Julie. I promise you that."
"Okay."
"Okay."
We finish dinner, and Ryan insists on paying despite my protests. "This is a date," he says. "I'm paying."
"That's very old-fashioned of you."
"Sue me."
We walk out to the car, and the night air is cool and crisp. The sun has set, and the sky is a deep purple, stars just starting to appear. Ryan opens the passenger door for me, and I slide in. When he gets in the driver's side, he doesn't start the car right away.
He turns to face me, and the look in his eyes makes my breath catch.
"Julie," he says softly. "Can I kiss you?"
My heart is pounding. "Yes."
He leans across the console, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. And then his lips are on mine. It's soft at first. Tentative. Like he's giving me the chance to pull away if I want to. But I don't want to.
I lean into him, my hand coming up to rest on his chest. His heart is racing under my palm, and that small detail—knowing he's as nervous as I am—makes something inside me crack open. The kiss deepens, and it's nothing like kissing Asher.
Asher's kisses were calculated. Controlled. Even in the beginning, when things were good, there was always a sense that he was working from a master list. This is different.
Holy shit. This is really different. Ryan kisses me like he's been waiting his whole life to do it. Like I'm precious. Like I matter. When we finally pull apart, I'm breathless.
"Wow," I whisper.
He smiles, his forehead resting against mine. "Yeah. Wow."
"That was..."
"Different?"
"Yeah." I laugh, a little shaky. "Really different."
"Good different?"
"The best different."
He kisses me again, softer this time. And when he pulls back, I realize something. I feel safe. Not just physically safe, though I do. But emotionally safe. Like I can be myself—messy, broken, scared—and he's not going anywhere.