Page 32 of 500 First Editions (The Romantics #3)

BOOK BOYFRIENDS DON’T EXIST

“ Y ou didn’t have to do all this,” I said as I peeked over Ryan’s shoulder at the skillet full of pancakes. “I do actually know how to cook.”

“So do I,” Ryan countered as he shimmied the spatula under one of the pancakes, then gave it a little flip and a pat for looking so good.

I rested my chin on his shoulder. “I know that. You don’t have to prove to me that you can cook.”

“I’m not proving anything,” Ryan said as he tilted his head back and kissed my temple. “I just like cooking for you.”

It was the “for you” that had my hackles raised.

I wouldn’t have questioned it if he had simply left the statement at “I like cooking.” Lots of people liked cooking, and he was clearly confident in the kitchen.

But it was a subtle reminder that this wasn’t the real Ryan.

He was just playing the game. Putting on a good show.

“Regardless. Thank you,” I said as I backed off and went back to tidying the living room. Whitney and Wander were leaving Kansas today. A goodbye brunch felt like the least I could do after they dropped everything to be here for the funeral.

It felt good to have them around for a few days. Their questions about what was happening with Ryan helped bring me back to reality.

This was a game. A game that he was really good at playing.

But no matter how many moves he made, I held all the power at the end.

I wouldn’t fall in love with him after three months, and my “no” would be the checkmate to end all checkmates.

“When are they getting here?” Ryan asked.

I glanced at the clock. “Should be anytime now. I said ten.”

“Are Miles and Jack coming?” he asked.

I snickered under my breath. “One casual kidnapping and you’re jumpy all of a sudden.”

“You’d be jumpy too if you got tied to a chair in the middle of an abandoned Burger Palace, and smacked with a rubber chicken.”

“I wish Miles had recorded it. That video would have been fantastic content for your social media pages. Relationship mogul Ryan Ford bested by a bodyguard and firefighter in a Burger Palace. ” I pecked his cheek.

“Tacos are always the answer. That’s like .

. . relationship 101. I’m disappointed in you, Ford. ”

Ryan’s arm swung around my waist, keeping me trapped against his body. “I’m playing the long game.”

My heart lifted, but realization sunk in, dashing those hopes. “Right.”

The door opening as Wander let herself inside saved us. Jack was quick to follow, with Whitney and Miles on their heels.

Ryan looked a little green as Miles pointed two fingers at his own eyes, then at Ryan while he mouthed, “I’m watching you.”

I patted Ryan’s shoulder. “If it makes you feel better, I’ve never seen him kill someone. Well . . . at least not all the way.”

“What?!” Ryan exclaimed as he whipped around.

But I was already hugging Whitney and Wander. “I’m going to miss you guys.”

“No crying before pancakes,” Whitney said. “It’s against the code of carbs.

“When are we going to see each other again?” Wander asked.

Whitney immediately pulled out her phone and rambled off the travel schedule that her assistant, Ophelia, had meticulously put together.

“I’ll be in San Diego and Phoenix in the fall, so I won’t be at the November Rom-Con.

And then I’ll be in London in the spring, and back in New York for the June Rom-Com ”

“I’ll be in Phoenix, but after that, I’m on deadline until eternity.” Wander said. “But I’ll be at the June Rom-Con.”

I groaned. “I’ll be in Portland the same weekend as the Phoenix event.” Usually we all crossed paths at conventions.

“What about Rom-Con?” Whitney asked.

I glanced at Ryan. “I’m not sure they’ll let me back in, even just as an attendee. I haven’t gotten an email yet, but I’m getting ‘banned for life’ vibes.”

“Who knows!” Wander sing-songed. “You guys could be the headlining success story! How cute would that be?”

“Not cute,” I hissed as I glanced over my shoulder to make sure Ryan wasn’t listening in.

Luckily, he was in conversation with Jack and Miles about their respective workout regimens. Turns out, he and Miles had found some common ground since they were sponsored by the same health supplement company.

“Look at them bonding,” Wander said with a giggle as she loaded her plate with pancakes, eggs, and fruit. “I think Jack is gonna miss him.”

“Have the boys started a group chat yet?” Whitney asked.

“Why would they have a group chat?” I piped up as I filled a mug with hot water and dunked a tea bag in it. Coffee would make me too jittery this morning.

Whitney shrugged as she doused her pancakes in syrup. “Jack and Miles talk all the time. I just figured they’d bring Ryan into it.”

“He’s not permanent. It’ll be awkward at the end of this.” Just saying the words made me want to vomit.

The three of us made our way to the kitchen table and held a ceremonial court over breakfast food.

Wander just shook her head. “Have you gotten tired of the way your shoe tastes yet? Or are you going to keep it in your mouth for the rest of the summer?”

I rolled my eyes.

She looked at Whitney. “Am I wrong?”

Whitney’s expression wavered somewhere around empathy.

“I think you’re right and they’ll end up together.

It’s a classic rivals to lovers with some forced proximity.

The road trip was an interesting plot twist.” She brought her fingers to her lips and did a chef’s kiss.

“Amazing combination, but it’s never without denial. ”

I groaned. “Not you too.”

“See?” Wander said as she nudged me with her elbow.

“Not so fast,” Whitney said, pointing a finger at Wander. “Get off your high horse, Whitlock. Or do you want me to ask how many times you told Jack that what you guys had wasn’t anything serious, and that—no matter what—you were leaving at the end of your summer?”

Wander glowered. “Fine. But only if you want me to ask how many times you denied being in love with your bodyguard and that it was strictly professional?”

She lifted her hands in surrender. “Fine,” Whitney said. “We’re all guilty.”

I touched the tip of my nose. “Not all of us.”

“Not yet, ” Wander said.

Whitney let out a deep breath and rested her hand on top of the small baby bump that had started to show. “We’re such clichés.”

“What I’m hearing is that we’re awesome,” Wander said. “Everyone loves a cliché.”

“Cheers to that,” I said as I tapped my mug against theirs. “We are awesome.”

“Ladies,” Ryan said as he came over from the couch where he, Miles, and Jack had convened. “Can I get you all anything?” He picked up the glass of water Whitney had almost finished. “Hang tight. I’ll get you some more.”

Whitney looked at me and lifted her eyebrows like she expected me to say something. Wander mirrored the look, telepathically communicating with me in a language I didn’t understand.

Ryan had dropped off Whitney’s refill, and I decided to break the tension between the boys and girls. “You three can come sit with us,” I said. “This isn’t a lunch room. Or we can come sit in the living room.”

“Respectfully, no,” Ryan said as he smoothed his hand across my back. “As much as I want you all to myself, you need time with your girls. I’ll be here when they fly out.”

And with that, he retreated to the couch.

Wander’s eyes went wide and a high-pitched squeal caught in her throat. “Girl!”

“ What ?” I hissed.

“Marry him and have lots of tattooed, pink-haired babies,” Whitney said. “He’s literally perfect for you.”

Wander nodded. “You know what feels romantic but is actually super toxic and dangerous? Your partner wanting you all to himself until you’re isolated from everyone you love.

You know what supportive partners do? They recognize that you need other people and that sometimes that means it doesn’t include them. ”

“Please tell me the sex is amazing,” Whitney said. “He seems like the ‘research until he gets it right’ type, and that is so hot.”

Ryan did seem like the kind of man who would have committed himself to becoming an expert in the art and science of female pleasure, and I was more than happy to be his test subject.

“We’re not having sex,” I said, then stuffed a pancake into my mouth.

Forks clattered on the table.

“Take it back,” Wander gasped.

I shrugged and sipped my tea. “We’re not.”

Whitney took a deep, cleansing breath. And then another, and another. “Dear God, why not?”

“Because that will complicate things.”

“Then complicate them,” Wander snapped.

The food soured in my stomach. “This is just?—”

“If you say it’s just a game, or just a bet, or a challenge, or whatever you’re calling it, I’m going to flip this table,” Whitney said with complete seriousness.

“But it is. End of story.”

Wander dropped her head into her hands, while Whitney crossed her arms like she was about to scold me.

“What if it wasn’t?” Whitney asked.

I used the tines of my fork to mash a piece of scrambled egg into teeny tiny pieces. “But it is.”

“I’m serious,” she said. “What if it wasn’t a game?

What if there was no onstage challenge? What if Ryan was just a guy who asked you out in the check out line, bought you pierogies and hot chocolate, crossed the country with you at a moment’s notice, and held your hand at your stepdad’s funeral? What would you call it then ?”

“I’d call him a book boyfriend in a fairytale,” Wander said.

I swallowed the bile that had filled my mouth. “I wouldn’t call it anything because book boyfriends don’t exist.”

“Why are you so stubborn?” Whitney asked. “You’re your own worst enemy.”

“I’m realistic.”

Suddenly, I couldn’t wait for the house to be empty, except for Ryan. I wanted to go sit under the willow tree by myself. I didn’t want the girls’ happily married commentary on my situationship.

. . . The situationship I had been sleeping with every night since we had arrived.

Just sleeping.

Just two people seeking comfort in each other. Just two people eating every meal together. Just two people spending every minute together, navigating an unknown, awful part of life.

Without realizing it, I had started craving his touch.

Ryan’s hands were so gentle. Physical touch was definitely one of the ways he showed love.

I got goosebumps every time he held my hand, kissed my temple or hair, or cradled me against his chest. His hands were always on me.

They were a tender reassurance that he was fully present at my side.

What the hell was I doing? Pining over some guy who had made it abundantly clear that he intended to play me and win?

And why couldn’t my brain send that knowledge to my heart? Where was the disconnect?

I guessed it was somewhere around my mouth, where he had yet to kiss me.

Part of me was grateful he hadn’t taken things any further. No matter how much I desperately wanted him to.

Keeping kissing and sex off the table kept the boundaries clear. He was a road trip buddy. A temporary roommate. An accidental boyfriend.

And yet he was the only person I had ever told about the tree.

Lisa knew, because Shep had told her. But Ryan was the only person on earth who had heard it from me.

Part of me wanted to believe that it meant something.

That part was the hopeless romantic I had left in California.

The woman in Kansas knew better than to believe that someone could love her more than she loved herself.

The woman in California hadn’t loved herself at all.

The woman in California would have believed him and then had her heart inevitably broken.

And I wasn’t that woman anymore.