I hadn’t brought him up. Hadn’t allowed myself to dwell on him.
Rhys had hurt me. Really hurt me. And admitting that made my stomach crumple in for a second. But only for a second.
“Okay, fine, I understand. But understanding doesn’t mean forgiving.” I took my arm back. “So see you later.”
I started up the steps with no plans to give him another second of my time.
But then he yelled out behind me, “I ended things with Ingrid. I called off our engagement because I only want to be with you.”
Don’t stop. Keep walking, I told myself. No good can come from you messing around with this White boy who was just engaged to a Swedish bikini model a minute ago.
But my feet didn’t seem to be on the same wavelength as my brain. They froze me in place on the top step. And then the next thing I knew, I was turning around.
“Really?” I asked him with my heart beating in my throat.
“Yes, really.” His reserved expression softened. “I don’t want her. I want you. Only you. Now the true question is, do you want me back, Cynda?”
I thought about saying no. But before I could come up with a particularly Cool Cynda to pull that rejection off, my body betrayed me. Yep, straight up betrayal. That was the only explanation for why I went flying back down the stairs and into his arms.
No, I didn’t meet up with my roommate and her girlfriend that night. Instead, I invited Rhys up to my apartment for some make up sex.
And somehow we just never stopped making up. I still didn’t do boyfriends, but I liked Rhys. A lot. He was fine, funny, easy to get along with, and freaking fantastic in bed. Hard as I tried, I just couldn’t think of any reason to ghost him. So spring passed into summer and then came fall. Then the next thing I knew it was time to go home.
“It’s just a stupid anniversary thing,” I explained to Rhys the morning before my flight. I was at his place, rushing around and trying to throw everything I’d taken off last night into my overnight bag before my Uber arrived. “I swear Rachel is only doing this second wedding mess for gifts and attention. I don’t even want to go—have you seen my other Dansko? I can’t find it anywhere.”
Which was crazy, because Rhys’s apartment was a combination of grey, white, and black, and my Dansko was a glittery purple. You’d think it would stand out like…well, a glittery purple thumb.
“Why am I just now hearing about this trip that will take you away from me for a whole weekend?” Rhys demanded.
“I dunno,” I answered, dropping to my knees to look for the shoe under the bed. “Maybe because we were too busy doing other stuff last night…and this morning. Which is why I’m now running late for my flight.”
I shined my phone’s flashlight underneath the bed but no shoe there either.
“If you told me I could have requested the weekend off as well,” Rhys said when I gave up the search and rose to my knees. “Kept you company at this supposedly horrendous event.”
I looked up at him, and that was a mistake. He was sitting up in the bed I’d abandoned. And it had been so hot in St. Louis that fall, he only had one thin white sheet covering the special unit of magical anatomy I’d secretly dubbed the “The Real Prince.”
“Oh, all I want to do is stay here and have brunch with you,” I admit, making a little heart with both hands.
For the first time since I announced I was leaving, Rhys finally cracked a smile. “Then why don’t—”
“But I can’t and it’s just a weekend,” I answered before he could finish that thought. “Plus, small town Missouri don’t play. If I bring a White boy home, there will be all sorts of questions and situations I’d have to prepare you for.”
I scooted over to the bed on my knees to kiss him goodbye. “Plus, an expectation of marriage. And I know Rachel will assume I’m trying to take the spotlight on her second big day. And after Daddy got over you not being Black, he would spend the entire time telling you about how Guadalajara was such a great place to raise kids with its low crime and friendly neighbors. All because he’s trying to convince you to move to Guadalajara so he won’t have to sell out to DBCare.”
Rhys frowned. “So your father doesn’t like DBCare either?”
“No, my small town doctor father doesn’t have a lot of nice things to say about the international medical conglomerate whose main mission in life seems to be replacing doctors in clinics and small practices with nurse practitioners and a bunch of insurance forms.”