“Do you want me to come with you?” Rory asked.
“No, I’m good,” I said.
“Goodbye,” I said, locking eyes with Ryder.
And then I left.
Sixteen
I had another night of no sleep and woke up with two realizations. First, I was definitely in love with Ryder, and second, I could never be with him.
I now understood what people said when they talked about the one that got away. Ryder would be that for me. He would be the guy I’d probably compare all other men to, going forward. We hadn’t even had an actual relationship, but it didn’t matter. The damage was done. My heart got involved, and that was it.
When I finally crawled out of bed, I didn’t want to go to work. There were very few times I didn’t want to head to the studio. It was my sanctuary. My place of refuge. I didn’t even stay away when I was sick. But I didn’t have any desire to go. I called Inari and told her I wasn’t coming in.
“What happened?”
“Just . . . don’t feel like it.” I didn’t want to talk about Ryder today. I didn’t want to talk to anyone about anything. I just wanted to stay in my apartment and be by myself.
“Okay,” she said, worry evident in her voice. “Are you absolutely sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah,” I said, doing my absolute best to sound as upbeat as possible.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” She made it sound like a question.
“Yeah. See you tomorrow.” I’d rally, but I really needed today. Just one day to mourn the relationship that wasn’t.
~*~*~
I couldn’t remember the last time I spent the entire day in bed. I just lay there and flipped through the channels on my television and did nothing else. When I got tired of TV, I scrolled through Facebook and other social media outlets. I’d had a blog once upon a time that I used to post pictures of my designs on. Once I realized I barely had time to shower, let alone blog, I turned it over to my interns and Inari. I hadn’t read it lately, so I took a peek.
Everything looked really nice and clean. Simple. Classic. The last post was from yesterday, and I scanned all the other posts. Inari really was talented. She could write, too.
I closed out of the blog and started watching videos of cats cramming themselves into boxes, but even that didn’t make me feel better like it usually did.
Thinking maybe I just needed some food, I went to the kitchen, but nothing appealed to me. I wasn’t hungry. Figuring I could cook anyway and feed it to my employees, I took phyllo dough out of the freezer and some preserves from the pantry. Making fruit-filled croissants was a tedious process. Just what I needed.
The sheets of dough were thin as paper, and delicate. They had to be handled with care and concentration.
While I had the croissants in the oven, I started a cake. I mixed two different batters together and swirled them to create a marble cake. I was going to make a cooked frosting to go on top. It required more work and concentration, which was just what I needed.
So absorbed in my cooking, I didn’t immediately hear my phone ringing. I went to see who was calling. If it was Ryder, I wasn’t going to answer. That might be callous, but I couldn’t talk to him today. Tomorrow. I could deal with this all tomorrow.
But it wasn’t Ryder. It was Rory.
“Hey,” I said, forcing myself to sound as upbeat as I could.
“Hey, you. I just wanted to call and see how you were doing. You kind of checked out last night. And I know you’re not at work because I called and Inari said you stayed home.”
Shit.
“Yeah, I just, um, needed a day.”
“Sloane.”
“What? I just need a day, Rory. Don’t I get one fucking day?” The tears I’d thought dried up last night were on the verge of falling again, and I wouldn’t let them. I wouldn’t let myself go into a full-scale wallow.
“Okay, if you’re sure. I can come over in a heartbeat. We can eat ice cream and watch stupid movies. You’ve done it more than enough times for me.” I’d held her hand through her breakup with the guy who came to be known as King Douchebag. That had been a rough one. He’d not only treated her like shit, but cheated on her too. What was with my friends getting cheated on?