Page 65 of 500 First Editions (The Romantics #3)

AUTUMN

Me

This was a TERRIBLE idea.

Whitney

Are you there yet? You can’t chicken out.

Wander

I mean, you could chicken out if you want to be miserable and heartbroken for the rest of your life.

Whitney

I can be there for moral support in a few hours. It’ll just take me longer to drive down from Providence than usual because this baby makes me pee every thirty minutes.

Wander

Is he there?

Me

Dear God, I hope not.

Whitney

Remember when he said that Wander and I got to be the judges on whether or not you fell in love? You fell in love. Now deal with it.

Me

He said I got to be a judge too. I vote no.

Wander

You’re outvoted, two to one. Suck it up.

T he small, brick house in South Jamaica was on a neatly kept patch of grass the size of my fingernail. It was a far cry from the sprawling green of Kansas plains. Still, it felt like home just the same, although I had only been here once.

The hustle and bustle of the Queens neighborhood turned to a blur as I stared at the freshly painted front door.

Fall decorations dotted the small stoop, matching the distinct chill in the air.

I tried to rehearse what I was going to say when the door opened, but the ringing in my ears and my drumroll heartbeat drowned out every thought.

This was officially the worst idea I’d ever had.

Why couldn’t I just text Ryan and tell him I was sorry?

Well, for one, I would have to unblock his number.

I hadn’t spoken to anyone from back home since I left Wander and Jack’s house and made the eleven-hour trek to Queens. I certainly hadn’t spoken to him.

But the great thing about Ryan Ford was that a lot of people wanted to talk to him.

Which was exactly why I knew he wouldn’t be at his house.

Thanks to the list of appearances on his website, I knew he’d be in Philadelphia for speaking engagements over the next two days.

This gave me a little time to breathe and reacclimate to the city without him in it.

The first part of The Winslet Method was brutal, but necessary.

He had jumped into my life and my chaotic, soap opera of a family, but I barely asked about his.

I took a deep breath, knocked on the door, and waited.

The door opened and an older woman appeared. She had graying hair tied in a bun on top of her head and was wearing a Go Army sweatshirt.

That’s where Ryan got his eyes. Hers were softer around the edges, but the kindness was the same.

I expected Ms. Ford to ask what I wanted, but her curious demeanor shifted to surprise almost immediately. “You’re her.”

I didn’t bother denying it or trying to explain. I just nodded.

“Come in,” she said as she quickly shooed me inside like a mother hen, then disappeared into the kitchen. I heard the clinking of bottles in the refrigerator door as it opened and shut. “I’d offer you coffee or tea, but I’m guessing you might want something a little stronger.”

I wasn’t much of a beer drinker, but I gratefully accepted the bottle she passed to me.

“Thank you. I know this is a little out of the blue, but I was hoping you might have some time to talk.”

Her brows lifted as she settled into an armchair and motioned for me to make myself comfortable on the couch. “Ryan’s out of town.”

“Yes, ma’am. I know,” I said.

She chuckled. “I’m not in the service anymore, so there’s no need to use ‘ma’am.’ Just call me Pam.”

“I’m not ready to talk to Ryan yet. I hoped to catch you. I really wanted to meet you.”

“Well, you’ve piqued my interest,” she said before taking a long drink.

“But just to be clear. Ryan’s more than ready to talk to you.

He was here for a day or so when he got back, then had to head out again.

Some might think it’s a little weird for a man in his thirties to live with his mom, but I never remarried after his father passed.

We both travel most of the year. He does it for work, but I do it just because I can.

Retirement is a wonderful thing. Since we’re both gone so much, it’s more like a crash pad. ”

“I don’t think it’s weird at all. I love that you two are close. He speaks so highly of you.”

Her eyes crinkled at the corners as she looked down at her beer. “Ryan told me what happened with your family. In confidence, of course. I’m so sorry you lost your dad and had the falling out that you did.”

“It is what it is.”

“Parenting is hard. Sometimes you have to make tough choices that are real uncomfortable, but you know it’s best for your kid.”

“Is that what you did with Ryan?”

She nodded. “I tried to date after his father passed away, but honestly? I was shit at it.”

I laughed. “I think I’m shit at dating too.”

“Good thing you found Ryan, then. I gave him a masterclass in what red flags look like. He learned what not to do.”

“What do you mean?”

She sighed regretfully. “I was so hungry for someone to see me as a woman—not just as a mom or a boss or a colleague—that I settled way too much. I dated men who wanted to take instead of give. I dated men who couldn’t find their ass from their elbow, and I ended up being their mother too.

I didn’t date partners. I dated leeches and cinder blocks. They drain you dry and drag you down.”

I took a long drink. “If it makes you feel better, the dating pool hasn’t changed a bit. You’re not missing out on anything.”

She chuckled and leaned forward to tap her beer to mine. “Cheers to that.”

“When did you stop dating?” I asked.

“When Ryan asked one of my boyfriends how to change a tire and they had no idea.” She trailed her finger around the lip of her bottle.

“It wasn’t about the tire. It was the fact that I was dating someone who didn’t have any life skills.

He didn’t know how to take care of himself.

He was irresponsible with his money. He could burn boiling water, and had no idea how to work the washing machine or dishwasher.

I was settling too much and I realized what a terrible example it was for my son.

I felt like I did a fine job at raising him to be a capable young man, but the men I’d let come around set the example that Ryan shouldn’t have to be capable.

That if he just found someone tolerant enough, they would be capable for him as long as he just gave a few crumbs of attention in return. ”

Ryan had changed my tire when I was stranded in Connecticut . . .

Pam’s expression brightened. “When he was first venturing out into life coaching, he told me that he wanted to build a whole website with tutorials on how to do household things so that people could learn. It’s not anyone’s fault if they don’t know how to do something.

But it’s definitely on them if they refuse to learn.

” She beamed. “He asked me to help him put together a comprehensive program of what adults needed to know. All that dating and podcast and internet stuff is all him. He always was a bookworm. Psychology was his favorite. But I liked that he focused on the practical things too. I used to always tell him that relationships are a beautiful dance of saying and doing. Your words have to match your actions.”

Show, don’t tell. Exactly what I did in my books.

Pam let out a laugh. “And I liked that he let his ol’ mom join in on the fun.

I helped him write out the step-by-steps, but he took it from there, filming all the videos and doing all the website stuff to make it look good.

He’s got the personality for it. He loves people.

” She gave me a knowing look. “Especially you, although he is a little hurt at the moment.”

I settled into the corner of the couch, relaxing as she went on and on.

“We covered everything for those videos , ” Pam raved.

“Car maintenance, cooking, laundry, home maintenance, lawn care, how to register for health insurance and make doctor’s appointments.

How to make sure you’re registered to vote, and what to expect when you show up at the polls.

A friend of mine is a nurse practitioner, so she jumped in to help him with first aid and advice about drug store medications.

We did step-by-steps on how to pick out nice gifts for every budget.

Pieces on etiquette, chivalry, and date protocol. You name it, we covered it.”

“That’s incredible. Ryan mentioned the BetterYou program, but I never really looked into it.”

Pam nodded. “He’s humble about it, but I think it’s his greatest accomplishment. And he doesn’t make a dime from it. He uses his coaching fees and sponsorships to cover the overhead.”

Maybe I needed to get Amber into the BetterYou videos . . .

“People bring different strengths to relationships,” she said.

“That’s the point. You’re supposed to complement each other.

But you have to bring something to the table.

There’s no shame in learning something new.

He wanted to give people the tools to learn without having to ask someone and feel embarrassed about it.

Shame is a terrible motivator. But he also wanted to remind people like me who tended to settle for less than they deserved, that the resources are out there.

And if someone is unwilling to learn, then they’re not a partner. ”

Ryan was a partner in every sense of the word. He was a partner in the little things, like sharing the cooking and cleaning responsibilities back at the rental. He shouldered my emotional burdens as if they were his own. He had his own pursuits, but still took time to support me in mine.

Ryan was my parallel line. He wasn’t stale; a stationary dot on the map I came across while I kept going. He wasn’t an intersection, sharing my location but not the same direction.

I had been running, and he ran with me.

Then I stopped running with him and ran from him instead.