Back Talk Bookish to Me Save as PDF
Chapters (30)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise
  3. Dedication
  4. About the Author
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. Epilogue

“I’ve always wanted to take a big trip to Europe and when I booked it, I thought it was the perfect time to go. I figured I would relax, I’d write, I’d travel. All that good stuff.”

Ryan sits back on the couch. “Sorry, I’m just taking this all in. You’re leaving for Italy in two days and you’re not coming back for six months?”

“Yes.” I keep twisting my fingers together.

“So were you and me a kind of fun, goodbye fling?” His tone is light, but I know there’s more fear to his words than he wants to let on.

“No, not at all,” I say, inching closer. “I honestly didn’t know what this was until you said what you did at dinner tonight. The thought of you moving here made me so happy and then I felt terrible because I didn’t tell you about my trip.”

Ryan swallows and nods.

“But this doesn’t mean that I don’t want to be with you. There are other options to consider.”

“What kind of options?”

“Well, option one is that I go to Italy as planned. We can FaceTime every day and maybe you can even come over for a vacation if you can get time off work.” I lean forward and grab the paper I hid under a book on the coffee table. “I printed out a brochure of the apartments I’m staying in. I’m sure you’d love it. It can be your first trip abroad.”

I hand him the folded-up paper, giving my best travel-agent smile. Ryan looks at the front cover but doesn’t open it.

“And option two?” he asks.

The room goes quiet. I can hear Duke’s heavy breathing from my bedroom.

“Option two...I don’t go.” I search Ryan’s eyes for what he could be feeling but can’t find anything definitive. His emotions are blurry, silhouettes swimming under a thick sheet of ice. “What are you thinking?” I ask.

“I really don’t know.”

“Are you mad?”

“No, I’m not mad. I’m just processing everything.” A few seconds pass until he stands up and walks towards the kitchenette. His steps are heavy until he turns around to face me, his hands resting down on the frame of a dining table chair.

“How would you feel if I decided to go?” I ask.

“I’d miss you. I’d be scared that what happened between us before would happen again.”

“And if I didn’t go?”

“If you didn’t go, I’d feel guilty and worried that you were missing out on something you wanted because of me.”

His words confirm that there’s no winner in either scenario. No obvious choice.

“I should have brought it up sooner, but I wasn’t even positive if you were into me or not until fairly recently.”