He had the same impact on me when I was younger, but I was more naïve back then. I didn’t know how rare men like Atlas were, so I didn’t know how lucky I was to have him in my life.
I know now, which is why it terrifies me that I might screw this up. Or thatRylemight screw this up.
I lift the bowl of pasta he brought. “It smells really good.”
“Itisgood. I made it.”
I should laugh at that, or smile, but my reaction doesn’t fit the conversation. I set the bowl aside. When I look at himagain, he can see the war in my expression. He counters with a reassuring look. Not much is said between us, but the nonverbal cues we’re trading are saying enough. My eyes are apologizing for my silence over the last twenty-four hours, he’s silently telling me it’s okay, and we’re both wondering what comes next.
Atlas slides his hand slowly across the counter, closer to mine. He lifts his index finger and skims it down the length of my pinkie. It’s the smallest, most tender move, but it makes my heart flip.
He pulls his hand back and clenches his fist as if he might have felt the same thing I did. He clears his throat. “Can I call you tonight?”
I’m about to nod when Allysa suddenly bursts through the door to the back, wide-eyed. She leans in and whispers, “Ryle is almost here.”
My blood feels like it freezes in my veins. “What?” I don’t say that so she’ll repeat it. I say it because I’m shocked, but she repeats herself anyway.
“Ryle is pulling in. He just texted.” She waves a hand toward Atlas. “You have ten seconds to hide him.”
I’m sure Atlas can see the absolute fear in my expression when I look at him, but he very calmly says, “Where do you want me?”
I point to my office and rush him in that direction. Once we’re in the office, I second-guess myself. “He might come in here.” I cover my mouth with a shaky hand while I think, and then point to my office supply closet. “Can you hide in there?”
Atlas looks at the closet and then looks at me. He points at the door. “In the closet?”
I hear the front door chime, and I’m filled with even more urgency. “Please?” I open the closet door. It isn’t the most ideal place to hide an actual human, but it’s a walk-in closet. He’ll fit just fine.
I can’t even look him in the eye when he moves past me and into the closet. I could die right now. This is so mortifying. All I can do is murmur, “I’m so sorry,” as I close the door.
I do my best to compose myself. Allysa is chatting with Ryle when I exit my office. He greets me with a nod, but his attention is back on Allysa. She’s digging through her purse for something.
“They were in here earlier,” she says.
Ryle is tapping his fingers impatiently.
“What are you looking for?” I ask her.
“Keys. I accidentally brought them with me, and Marshall needs the SUV to get his parents from the airport.”
Ryle looks irritated. “Are you sure you didn’t set them aside when I told you I was coming to get them?”
I tilt my head, focusing on Allysa. “You knew he was coming?” How could she forget to tell me he was on his way here when Atlas showed up?
She reddens a little. “I got sidetracked by… unexpected events.” She holds up her hand in victory. “Found them!” She drops them in Ryle’s palm. “Okay, bye, you can leave now.”
Ryle makes a move like he’s about to go, but then he turns and sniffs the air. “What smells so good?”
His and Allysa’s eyes meet the bowl at the same time. Allysa pulls it to her, cradling it. “I cooked lunch for me and Lily,” she lies.
Ryle raises an eyebrow. “Youcooked?” He reaches for the bowl. “I have to see this. What is it?”
Allysa hesitates before handing him the bowl. “Yeah, it’s chicken… baraba doula… meat.” She looks at me and her eyes are wide.She is such a horrible liar.
“Chickenwhat?” Ryle opens the bowl and inspects it. “It looks like shrimp pasta.”
Allysa clears her throat. “Yeah, I cooked the shrimp in… chicken stock. That’s why it’s called chicken barabadoulameat.”
Ryle puts the lid back on and looks at me with concern as he slides the bowl across the counter back to Allysa. “I’d order pizza if I were you.”