Chapter 3
I leaned against the doorframe, not letting him in.
"Ryan," I said, "how did you find me here?"
"You think I wouldn't know if you moved?" he replied.
He frowned, like I'd just asked something stupid.
That was when it hit me. I'd moved three months ago and never told him.
Yet he knew.
He'd always known where I was.
Turned out, I wasn't the only one quietly keeping tabs all these years.
"Let me in first," he said.
He stepped inside.
I didn't move aside.
"Let's talk outside," I said.
"I'm heading out."
He stopped, staring at me, not the face he was used to, the one always trying to please him.
"Vivian, what happened to you yesterday?" Ryan asked.
He lowered his voice. "I'll deal with Eric and his big mouth later. Don't take it out on me. Just send me what you were supposed to last night, alright?"
I let out a laugh, sharp and a little cold.
"What I was supposed to?"
I said, "Ryan, let me make this clear. That message? I'm done sending it. Not just yesterday, I'm never sending it again."
For the first time, Ryan's face showed an expression I couldn't read.
He looked confused, almost like he couldn't, or wouldn't, let himself understand.
"Why?" he asked.
"Because I'm tired," I said.
"I've had enough of being with you, enough of chasing after you. Eric's right. There are plenty of other guys out there."
"Vivian," His voice dropped, heavy and low.
"Relax," I cut him off.
"You're doing just fine now, way better than you were six years ago. You've got your own company, people sucking up to you, and all the respect you could ask for.
"You don't need someone checking in on you every single day just to make sure you're still breathing. That message? It's been useless for a long time."
I pushed past him, locked the door behind me without a second glance.
"I'm really heading out," I said.
"It's Saturday, I'm off to a blind date."
I saw his hand clench at his side.
"Blind date," he repeated.
"Mm," I replied.
I mimicked his tone, just one word.
I headed downstairs, and he didn't follow.
I thought that was it.
The blind date was set at a quiet restaurant.
The guy's name was Adam Grant, he worked in architectural design, three years older than me, looked fresh and put-together, and spoke in a calm, easy manner.
Adam asked, "I heard you're a jewelry designer?"
He poured me some coffee. "Do you have your own line?"
"I wouldn't call it a brand," I said.
"I mostly work on private commissions. I had the chance to join a top jewelry studio in Italv, but I ended up not going."
"Why didn't you go?" Adam asked.
My mind went blank for a second.
In six whole years, nobody had ever cared enough to ask me that.
Everyone was obsessed with whether I could win over Ryan. They never once asked why I gave up that spot as lead apprentice at the top jewelry studio in Italv.
"I couldn't get away," I said.
Adam didn't press me. He just looked at me, his eyes clear and honest. "If you got another chance, would you go?"
Something hit me right in the chest.
"Yeah," I heard myself say.
The meal turned out to be surprisingly comfortable.
Adam really paid attention to what I said, his eyes sparkled with curiosity when I talked about gemstone cuts, and he'd ask follow-up questions, saying "Oh, I see," not just tossing out a lazy "Mm" like someone else.
So that was what it felt like when someone actually took you seriously.
Halfway through the meal, some noise started up at the restaurant entrance.
I looked up.
Ryan was standing there, still in the same rumpled shirt from last night, his gaze fixed on me.
The waiter behind him tried to stop him, but Ryan didn't even bother to look. He just walked right over to our table.