Page 25 of The Best Worst Mistake (Off-Limits #2)

“No, I get that,” he says, nodding, shifting to stretch out the other leg.

He looks as if he might be ready to start jogging again.

Thankfully, the place we’re heading is just another half a mile or so down this stretch.

“I always felt like you two were kind of meant to be together or something. She wasn’t anything to me, but I still think about her sometimes. ”

I shoot him a look.

“No, not like that. But for you. I haven’t liked any of the other women you’ve dated half as much.”

“Well, that’s wonderful,” I say, dimly. “Considering that Abby was never really in a relationship with me. It was always just a physical thing on her end. She told me she hasn’t even dated in New York. For a girl that looks like her — how is that even possible?”

“Some people have real demons,” he says, stepping back out on the pavement again, after waiting for a man with a huge blue and yellow parrot on his shoulder to walk by. “Doesn’t mean they’re not worth killing those demons for, in the end. Has she said anything about wanting a second chance?”

“You mean a third?” I ask, correcting him. “We’re opposing each other on this deal right now. It wouldn’t be okay if her boss found out.”

“Silas wouldn’t care if you two hooked up while working on this deal, would he?” he asks.

I imagine Silas’ reaction to finding out that Abby and I had reconciled while working on this deal.

“I actually think he wishes that we would hook up again just to weaken their stance, which of course isn’t even ethical.”

Rye laughs. “Shocker!”

Silas has been asking repeatedly when I’m going to tap that again, ever since finding out Abby was on the opposing side.

I’m hoping when he does make it to one of these meetings, he doesn’t slip and say the wrong thing, making it awkward for all of us, especially Abby.

But even as his legal counsel, I have about as much control over Silas as I do the wind, which means none at all.

“Then what’s the hold up?” Rye asks, jogging beside me once again. I wish we’d just walk the rest of the way. We’re almost there, but he’s turning it into a final push sprint.

“ I’m the holdup,” I tell him, breathing harder. “I want something more meaningful for my future. I don’t know if Abby will ever be ready for something like that. Or would even want it, to be honest. But she deserves a hell of a lot more than what she’s allowing herself to have.”

“I’m not sure how often two people have the type of thing that the pair of you have,” Rye says, pumping his arms to give this last stretch his all. I fight beside him to keep up. “All I know is that if I ever find that type of thing you two have, I’m not going to give up that easily.”

I stay silent, mostly because I’m not sure what else to say, and also because I’m getting completely out of breath. I don’t think anything about giving her up has been easy for me.

“If she doesn’t date, who does she have in her life?” he asks. “Friends? Is she close to her family?”

“Her best friend, Olivia,” I huff. “But she’s off in Hawaii.”

“Who else?” he asks. “Parents? Siblings? Anyone?”

I keep the pace beside Ryeson, mentally rolling back through every conversation I can ever remember having with Abby about the inner workings of our lives.

Plans for upcoming holidays, me going home for a long Easter weekend, Parents’ Weekend at the law school when she’d told me she was heading out of town instead of having anyone come see her, even Christmas spent in New York each year — something about reaching her firm’s billable hour requirement at the end of the year, even though we both know she was probably well over that requirement before Thanksgiving.

I think of every single time I’ve brought up pending plans regarding my family, who would probably rather die than have me skip various holidays and events at their house.

Of New Year’s rituals at the dinner table or Valentine’s Day packages sent to my dorm room with balloons and chocolates — things I used to find somewhat annoying as a teenager, then came to depend on the older I got, recognizing that not everyone has these types of family tradition in their lives.

All those things I’ve talked about with Abby and yet, I can’t recall a single time that she’s chimed in with her own plans. Her own funny family traditions. Memories as a kid. Instead, she listened to snippets from my life with thinly veiled fascination.

I stop running, nearly getting slammed into by a kid on a bike with training wheels. Thankfully, her parents manage to steer her around me.

“Sorry!” I say after them, breathing hard. The dad nods at me as they go.

Ryeson stops, but is smart enough to step off the pavement before someone slams into the back of him, too, then shifts his eyes back to me, looking confused as to why I’ve suddenly stopped again when our bar is coming up.

“I’m not sure she has anyone,” I say, now fully convinced of it.

“Well, that’s a problem, man,” he says, stepping out of the way of a woman pulling a wagon behind her with a big, blown-up globe nestled inside.

“Peace,” she says, smiling seductively at Ryeson while pointing two fingers up toward the sky.

“Peace,” Rye says, looking gobsmacked by that smile, but holding up a matching peace sign.

I’m an alright-looking guy, but any time I’m beside Ryeson, I may as well be invisible. His inherent charm never fails, and I find it wildly entertaining.

“I think I need to talk to Abby,” I say. “Like really talk to her.”

“Why don’t you just give her a call? No shame in breaking that silence first,” he says.

“No.” I know somehow that calling her first would be the wrong move right now. I need to let this breathe. “That’s got to be part of it. She’s got to be the one to pick that ball back up and make the next move.”

“Well, don’t wait around too long, bro,” he says. “Some things are worth waiting for, but other things are just worth having, without any wait at all.”