We both laughed.
“Ah, young love,” she said.
Work was business as usual, and I got several offers to stock my lingerie in stores. My life had gone from mediocre to fucking awesome. Ryder came and saw me at lunch to tell me how things were going at the gallery.
“Gil went nuts for the stuff we did the other night.”
I’d given him permission to show them to Gil, and as long as he didn’t put our names on them, he could use them. Oh, and as long as we got to keep them after. I wanted that shit in my apartment.
“Awesome. It was pretty cool. We should do it again.” I loved making art with Ryder. Plus, then we got to shower together afterward.
We hadn’t sat down with Lucah and told him we were Slydering, but it wasn’t a secret that Ryder was spending nights at my house.
“So, do you think we need to have an official conversation about you and me with Lucah?” I said as I ate the sandwich Ryder had brought me from a nearby deli.
“Nah. We’re good. He told me that he was going to stay out of it and it was none of his business now. I guess he realized that his meddling did more harm than good.”
I looked at him, shocked. “Are you serious?”
Ryder nodded. “Yeah. I think he’s really starting to trust me. For the first time in . . . ever. Oh, and I’ve got a new therapist. He’s this guy who’s friends with someone who works in Colorado, actually. He seems pretty chill on the phone, so I’m going to see him tomorrow.” Hearing how upbeat he sounded about going to therapy was beyond reassuring.
“So you’re going to keep going?” I asked, finishing my sandwich.
“Yeah. It’s just something I’m going to need to do, maybe for the rest of my life. It’s like . . . medicine for my sanity. And I don’t care what anyone else thinks about it.” Good. He shouldn’t.
“You could come sometime, if you want. Just to see what it’s like.” He balled up his napkin and put it back in the paper bag his lunch had come in.
“Maybe,” I said. That seemed like an intrusion. But if he wanted me there, I’d be there. Because I loved him.
“You don’t have to. But if you want to, you can.”
“Okay.”
We talked about other stuff, including my love for Ryder’s majestic mountain beard, and then it was back to work for me.
“I’ll miss you,” I said. “That sounds so needy. But I do miss you when you’re not here.”
“Well, I’ll be waiting for you when you get home.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a key.
“Is that my key?” I asked, and he nodded before dropping it back into his coat.
“Yeah. I made a copy last time I had the key. I just never told you.”
Oh, he was so bad.
“You are definitely on the naughty list, R. Blythe,” I said, narrowing my eyes.
“I should hope so. Nice is so overrated.” And before he kissed me goodbye at the studio door he slapped me on the ass.
Ryder Blythe was a dirty gentleman, a disaster, a dream, a joker, a ginger, a bastard, and a romantic. He brought out the best in me. He challenged me and wasn’t afraid to fight me. He was complicated and simple, and strange and familiar. He was everything. He was mine.
All fucking mine.