He just keeps looking at me, saying nothing. I’m not convinced he knows why he asked me to wait. Silence stretches wider and thicker between us until his cell phone starts to ring on the kitchen table. I move towards it, planning on handing it to him when he steps in front of me.

“It’s okay, I’ll get it,” he says. I watch as he picks it up and silences it before sliding it into his pocket. Feeling more awkward with each passing moment, I turn around and head for my bedroom.

“Thank you for tonight. For dinner,” Ryan says to my back.

I pause in the doorway but don’t look at him again. “You’re welcome. See you tomorrow.” I go directly into my room and shut the door, holding it closed and leaning forward, too shaken to move.

That was not a drill.

Ryan told me he missed me. I kissed him. He kissed me back, and then it was like nothing happened.

But it did happen.

I begin to feel oddly lethargic and change into my pajamas a couple minutes later, sneaking outside and moving in and out of the bathroom like a ghost to avoid waking Duke or seeing Ryan. Back in my room, I crawl into bed and pull the sheets up all around me as I roll onto my side to face the window. I nuzzle into my ice-cold pillow and allow one quick, sleepy smile as I almost immediately drift off to sleep.

11

I pick up the small piece of paper from my coffee table for the third time, still annoyed by its contents as I read it again.

Kara,

I took Duke for a walk before I left so he won’t need another until I get home. I’ll be back by two. Thanks.

—Ryan

Such a sweet love note. I toss it into the trash as I go into the kitchen, feeling slightly appeased when I see the new scone that’s waiting for me on the counter. I scoop it out of the bag and gobble down half of it. Stress eating is warranted in this situation.

Every day, Ryan is more and more of a contradiction. He’s mad at me, but he wants to spend time with me. He kisses me, and then pushes me away. He disappears this morning, but leaves me an edible reminder of how considerate he can be.

I move to the stove, ready to pour myself a much-needed cup of tea, when a cell phone alert from the front desk goes off. I put down my favorite mug that has Her Ladyship painted on the side and answer it.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Ms. Sullivan. Your sister is here to see you.”

“Oh. Great, thanks, Nick.”