Page 61 of 500 First Editions (The Romantics #3)

“Ask me anything you want to know, and I’ll tell you,” she said. “I just want you to know how much he loved you. How much we both love you.”

“I know.”

Wander gave me the “ask her” look.

“You gave the envelopes to Ryan?”

“I did. When he ambushed your mom and Amber, he came over to my place and asked me how much I knew. We talked for a minute and I gave him the envelopes. We talked about the best way to tell you. I’m sorry that you didn’t find out in a way you deserved.”

“Why didn’t he just tell me then?”

“He said you were about to finish writing your book. And after losing Shep, he wanted you to be able to celebrate that. He said he would tell you under the willow tree in Bev’s backyard the last night you guys were in town so you could visit the graveside or come talk to me if you wanted to before you had to go.

He knew how hurt you were after what happened with Greg and wanted to give you closure and good memories before you left.

It was the whole reason he confronted your Mom and Amber in the first place.

He wasn’t on a witch hunt for information.

He didn’t go into that conversation already knowing.

Apparently, Amber let it slip. He was just trying to get them to love you the way you deserve.

” She sighed. “I’m not trying to defend him.

He should have told you. Hell, it shouldn’t have had to be him.

It should have been Shep or your mom. But I know he was going to tell you. He really loves you.”

Ryan had only said those three words once, and each one had been a knife to the heart.

“How do you know that?”

She didn’t skip a beat even though she sounded exhausted. “Because he loves you the way Shep loved me.”

After we hung up, I sat in silence, sandwiched by Wander and Whitney. Every conversation I’d had that morning played in my head in a loop.

“I think I made a mistake,” I admitted.

“Well, duh,” Wander said at the same time that Whitney said, “You were human. Give yourself grace to make mistakes.”

The look on Ryan’s face when I told him to get out of the car was burned into my memory. It brought me to tears every time it flashed in my mind.

I had been so hurt. So angry.

I wanted someone to blame it on. To take it out on.

When I was standing in Bev’s living room with the shrill ringing in my ears and my heart in my throat, I didn’t want to lash out at Mom, Amber, or Lisa.

It truly felt like they didn’t care. That I was just a problem to be swept under the rug. Why would I waste my anger on people who didn’t care?

The opposite of love isn’t hate. The opposite of love is apathy.

Ryan loved me loudly, even before he had said the words. It’s why the betrayal hit twice as hard.

It’s why I lashed out twice as much.

My wish for him to hurt just as much as I was hurting was useless. I loved him, but I didn’t show it. I kept it hidden deep inside, fearing that, if I told him, he would use it against me.

Mom was right. Pride is a flimsy shield. It only gives the appearance of protection.

I was Shep’s daughter, but I was hers too. And that meant I had a lot of work to do.

“I love him,” I admitted. The crack in the words matched the pieces of my heart that were hanging from my chest.

“Love . . . As in the present tense?” Whitney asked.

I nodded as I raked my hand through my hair and looked up at the sky as if it held all the answers.

“God, I love him and it fucking hurts. I don’t want to love him, but I .

. . I can’t imagine not loving him. I can’t imagine not talking to him.

I just . . . I need him.” I dropped my head into my hands. “I’m so pathetic.”

“You’re not pathetic,” Wander said. “You’re in love.”

“Is it love though? Because I don’t think love hurts this much.”

“It hurts a million times more when it’s someone you love. If you didn’t love him, it would sting a little, but it wouldn’t hurt.”

“It feels like I’m dying,” I groaned.

Wander gave me a pitying smile. “That’s love, Wills.”

“I hate it.”

Whitney laughed.

“On top of it all, I broke the first rule of writing a book,” I said.

Whitney gasped. “You named a leading man ‘ Chad ?’”

Wander’s eyes widened. “You didn’t give the characters a happily ever after?”

“You made book two in a series a different size than book one so the spines don’t line up?” Whitney whispered in horror.

“Did you put a fake printed sticker on the cover?” Wander hissed. “That’s unforgivable.”

“No!” I said with—what felt like—the first laugh in days. “I broke the ‘show, don’t tell’ rule.” I shook my head. “I didn’t show him that I loved him. I only said it once and I only said it to hurt him.”

They looked at me, then each other as if they could telepathically decipher what the hell I was talking about.

“Are you gonna call him next?” Whitney asked.

“No.”

Wander looked confused. “So . . . are we gonna go burn down his house?”

I laughed as I wiped away the few remaining tears. “I think your husband would object to that.”

She shrugged. “I could talk him into it. I give great blowjobs.”

I pulled my feet up to the step I was sitting on and hugged my knees. “I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anyone.”

“What’s the plan?” Whitney asked.

“I’m not planning,” I said as I steeled myself. “I’m an author. I plot .”

“So, what’s the plot?” Wander asked. “Do I need to get my notebook?”

“Nope,” I said as I grabbed my phone. “Ryan already did it for us. And I have it on good authority that it works.”