Page 44 of The Restoration Program

“Sorry, heading out. Becca wants us to meet up with some of our friends. Haven’t seen some of them since before, you know.”

Nicole swallowed hard. Seeing Darlene in person again was one thing. She couldn’t bring herself to picture what it would be like to have a casual brunch with her and Ryan’s friends from before the move. It sounded like a nightmare, but she wasn’t going to tell Carlos that.

“Good luck.” His icon went offline just before she could hit the button to send the message.

Shoulders slumping, she closed the chat. She supposed she could try hitting up Darlene, but she was probably already at the office. Besides, some inane part of Nicole felt like she needed to spread her potential conversation out over the day, or she’d run out of things to keep herself occupied.

She peeked at the time in the corner of the screen and dropped her face into her hands.

It wasn’t even nine-thirty.

The sun drifted lazily behind the drawn curtains, taunting her with its slowness.

She remembered a time when she complained about not having enough leisure time to do everything she wanted. Weekends and free evenings had been crammed full ofI’ll start tomorrowandmaybe I can make time next week.

Now, having all the time in the world felt more bitter than sweet. The little pleasures of past hobbies had abruptly lost their intrigue. What was the point of learning Mandarin if she would never travel out of the country to use it? How could she teach herself to knit when she couldn’t even use the needles buried in the closet, each longer than she was tall?

Still, she promised herself to learn something new each day. If she was pushing herself, improving her mind and body, she felt less like a dog who had been left in a car on a hot day, slowly suffocating while its owner was away.

Nicole grimaced, pulling a fresh shirt over her head as she entered the giant kitchen. There was something about the word that made her queasy now.Owner.

She thought about Emily Hinton asking questions and expecting answers only from Ryan. Nicole shook off the memory.

This afternoon’s task focused on finding the most efficient pathways to the walkways depending on where she was in the apartment. It meant being on the floor sometimes—a reality that was much easier to stomach when she had the place to herself.

After plucking a small bit of pita chip from the pantry, she made her way down the stairs that gave her access to the tile floor. She wanted to tell herself this was for fitness, but a morbid part of her thought of it like a safety drill.

You’re on the floor. The kitchen stairs are broken. Where do you go?

She started for the carpet, but she didn’t make it far before the ground began to shake slightly.Rumblingwas a better word for it—more than the mere passing of steps of a neighbor in the apartment halls.

Before she could brace herself, the front door tremored: the smart lock whirring and the swift metallic scrape of hinges swinging. Heavy, familiar footsteps entered. Nicole shot an accusatory glance at the wall past the archway. The clock was just short of three-thirty.

“Nicole? Where are you?”

“I—um, kitchen!” Her heart pounded. “Careful, I’m under the bar, on the floor!”

Though Ryan’s steps slowed, it still felt as though a hurricane entered the kitchen. Nicole flattened herself against the leg of the nearest barstool, the cold metal pressing against her spine. She craned her neck to take all of him in, relaxing somewhat when his searching gaze finally landed on her.

“What are you doing on the ground?” he asked breathlessly, as though he’d run all the way to the third floor.

“I… Exercising.” She hesitated, wondering if he’d be upset like the last time he found her this way. “What are you doing here? I wasn’t expecting you for another hour and a half, at least.”

Ryan dropped his satchel by the table, beaming like an idiot as he knelt in front of her. “Hey. C’mere.”

She slowly peeled herself off the chair leg, approaching him with a stunned shake of her head. “Ry, what—”

Her words and breath caught in her throat as Ryan took hold of her in both hands and kissed her promptly. She stiffened in surprise before melting into him. Her heart seemed equally intent on being frightful, though, drumming away while she tried to relax into his strong hands. He effortlessly supported her weight, quite literally sweeping her off her feet into another kiss.

Fuck, it felt so good to be held like this.

Just when she was beginning to grow dizzy from the too-large caresses, Ryan shifted. She was weightless for all of two seconds, then pulled into an embrace. Her stomach danced with a storm of butterflies from the hasty ascent, eliciting a girlish giggle. She could scarcely pull in a full breath with how tightly he held her, but Nicole relished it. His grip was not painful, but passionate.

“I was thinking about you all day,” Ryan said, his breath hot against the back of her neck. “I couldn’t get you out of my head. Not for a second.”

“I missed you too,” Nicole panted.

“I left right after my last meeting. Didn’t tell a soul—I just couldn’t wait another minute to come back to you.” His head dipped, chin resting delicately atop her head. He breathed her in and she did the same, greedy with every inhalation. Suddenly, his arms lowered and he peered down at her. “Am I hurting you?”