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“Then you have nothing to worry about,” I said.
His eyes narrowed but the employee cleared her throat softly. “You need a final photograph.”
Ryan released my chin and stepped back. The loss of his touch felt immediate.
I gathered the wooden hearts against my chest while he stood beside me. The employee lifted the camera.
“You’re supposed to smile,” I told him.
“No.”
“Pretend forced politeness hasn’t damaged you.”
“It has.”
“Pretend you like me.”
“That’s never required pretending.”
The truth escaped before either of us could defend against it.
Ryan’s face changed first. I looked at him while the loss of our greatness moved through the bright morning. This was how we had always fit. My fear and anxiety against his refusal to follow rules he never agreed on. His sharpness cutting through my need to control every detail. My laughter reaching the hidden parts of him. His strength giving me somewhere safe enough to become soft.
We had been good as fuck but my fear had been stronger.
Ryan stepped closer and hooked one finger beneath my pink shirt. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“How am I looking at you?”
“Like liking you changes the terms.”
“Doesn’t it?”
He closed his eyes briefly. “No.”
“You hesitated.”
“I’m deciding whether I have enough time to drag you into the castle before lunch or tell Cade I have had my limit and bounce.”
“That sounds like I’m effecting you.”
“That sounds like you should stop talking about shit I haven’t cosigned on if you want me to follow through on the latter.”
“I’m suddenly very quiet.”
“Charm.”
“I’m smiling for the picture.”
“You’re plotting.”
“I told you. I won’t fight fair. You wouldn’t respect me if I did.”
Ryan wrapped one arm around my shoulders and pulled me against his side. I held the letters between us while he faced the camera with the pained expression of a man enduring pastels, romance, and public affection under protest.
Before the employee pressed the button, I rose onto my toes and kissed his cheek.
The camera flashed.
