Chapter 24

The office air felt heavier than usual, thick with tension I couldn’t name, and even thicker with silence that spread like smoke after everything that had happened between me and Matteo.

I kept my head down, fingers flying over my keyboard, eyes aching, chest tight, as if the entire world was waiting for me to shatter again but I didn’t give it the satisfaction.

When the clock struck six, most of the staff filtered out with laughter and click-clacks of heels and mugs, but I stayed back, not ready to face the city or my reflection yet.

“Sarah,” Ryan said gently, standing near my desk with a kind smile and a look that said he already knew my heart was somewhere between shattered and numb.

He wasn’t pushy, never had been, just patient and kind and steady, and it made me want to cry for all the years I thought I’d have to fight for tenderness.

“I know this taco bar on a rooftop,” he added. “Cheap margaritas. Fairy lights. Bad music. But I promise, it’s impossible to leave without smiling wanna come with me tonight?”

I hesitated, because part of me still hurt and part of me felt guilty for even considering it but mostly, I just needed something, anything, to remind me how to breathe again.

“Yes,” I said finally, standing with a sigh and forcing a smile that came a little easier this time. “I could use some terrible margaritas and fairy lights right now.”

Ryan’s smile widened, not smug, not triumphant, just happy like it meant something to him that I chose this, that I chose him, even if only for one night and one rooftop.

The rooftop glowed under strings of golden lights, each one flickering like it knew how tired we both were, how much we needed something soft, safe, and quiet to feel okay again.

The tables were mismatched wood, the chairs creaky metal, and the smell of lime and grilled peppers danced in the air with faint laughter, wind, and a Spanish love song playing far too dramatically.

I glanced at Ryan across the table as we sat down, and he didn’t smile with mischief or expectation he just looked at me like he saw all the pieces I’d worked hard to hide.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly, stirring my drink, “for bringing you into my mess even if you say it’s fine, it still feels unfair to drag someone good into my chaos.”

Ryan sipped his margarita, leaned forward, eyes locked on mine like they could hold my shame for me, and said, “You’re not dragging me, Sarah I’m walking with you, willingly, with eyes open.”

I swallowed hard, surprised by how much those words meant, how much they softened something jagged inside me that had been splintering under Matteo’s silence and Isabelle’s poison for too long.

We talked through dinner, slow and unhurried, about childhood crushes, irrational fears, and the worst outfits we’d ever worn in public his story about neon cargo shorts made me choke on laughter.

It wasn’t perfect.

It wasn’t fireworks.

It was better.

It was real.

When we stood to leave, full on tacos and stories, the city stretched below us like a blinking heartbeat and suddenly the night didn’t feel quite so heavy anymore.

**

The sidewalk beneath our feet felt warmer than it should have been, and maybe it was the tequila or maybe it was him but everything felt a little less cold with Ryan beside me.

We didn’t rush.

We didn’t talk much either.

Just walked side by side through Manhattan’s glowing veins, where taxis hummed like distant thunder and street lamps flickered above us like curious eyes watching something tender unfold.

Ryan’s shoulder brushed mine a few times, not by accident, but not quite on purpose either like he was testing the rhythm between us, letting it build slow like the pulse of trust.

“You’re quiet,” he said softly, not accusing, just curious his voice low like he didn’t want to disturb whatever spell had wrapped around our steps and shadows.

I glanced up at him, smiled shyly. “It’s a nice kind of quiet. Not the kind that echoes or burns.”

He smiled back, and it was the kind of smile that made me feel seen like maybe I wasn’t just some assistant drowning under a boss’s indifference and the office gossip anymore.

At Mia’s apartment door, we stopped.

The silence grew fuller, like it wanted something to happen but didn’t dare name what it was yet not until one of us was brave enough to claim it.

Ryan shifted slightly, his eyes on mine, hand tucked in his pocket like he was holding himself back from saying something that could change the air between us forever.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he said, voice gentle, eyes sincere. “But I meant it. I’m here… even if you’re still figuring out where ‘here’ is for you.”

I opened my mouth to thank him, to say something kind and safe, but instead I did something braver, riskier, something I hadn’t done in a long, long time I kissed him.

Soft.

Deliberate.

One hand curled around his shirt, the other braced on his chest like I was holding onto something solid, something good that wouldn’t slip away the second morning came.

He kissed me back without hesitation, his hand cradling the back of my neck with the kind of reverence that said he wasn’t kissing me to win he was kissing me to mean it.

It wasn’t fireworks.

It wasn’t lust.

It was something better.

Something I didn’t know how to name yet.

And for the first time in weeks, I didn’t need to.

When the kiss broke, Ryan didn’t say anything he just rested his forehead against mine and smiled like he’d been waiting all night for permission to feel something real again.

I didn’t run away from it this time, didn’t retreat or apologize or pretend it hadn’t happened I just breathed him in and let myself exist in the quiet that followed.

We didn’t speak much as I pulled away, but his fingers brushed my wrist, a soft silent goodbye that felt more like a promise than any goodnight words could’ve managed between us.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said finally, voice low, eyes soft, and the way he said it made me feel like tomorrow could be something worth waiting for again.

I nodded, smiled, stepped inside then closed the door slowly, back pressed against it, eyes wide like someone who had just stepped out of one world and hadn’t quite entered another.

Mia’s voice came instantly from the kitchen, sing-song and smug: “Well, well, if it isn’t Little Miss Bodyguard Lover finally returning from her romantic rooftop taco date tell me everything before I die.”

I groaned, face hot, kicked off my shoes, and tried to duck past her teasing stare, but she blocked me with a spatula in one hand and smugness dripping from her voice.

“Did he kiss you?” she asked, wiggling her eyebrows like we were in a high school sleepover and she’d just watched me get dropped off by the quarterback of the football team.

I rolled my eyes, grabbed a water bottle, and said, “Yes but not like that. It wasn’t messy or wild. It was… slow. Warm. Like we were both trying not to fall apart.”

Mia’s teasing softened, her grin fading just a bit as she leaned against the counter and said, “You like him you know that, right? You’re not hiding anymore. You’re glowing like a lightbulb.”

“I know,” I whispered, twisting the cap off the bottle, suddenly overwhelmed by how good it had felt how safe, how easy, how not-complicated in a world where everything else was war.

But even as I drank the water and nodded, part of my mind still drifted back to another man one who didn’t kiss with tenderness, but who haunted me all the same.

Matteo’s face.

His voice.

The cold way he dismissed me like I was nothing, when once I thought I might be the only person who ever made him feel something different.

I hated that he still lived rent-free in my mind, even after everything, even when Ryan’s hands were the ones holding me steady when I wanted to fall.

I didn’t tell Mia that part.

Didn’t say that after Ryan left, I went to my room, opened the drawer, and stared at Damian’s invitation like it was a puzzle I hadn’t solved yet.

Didn’t say I wondered what would happen if I chose freedom freedom from Matteo, from heartbreak, from ever again feeling like I wasn’t enough just as I was.

I slid into bed with the city humming outside my window and the sound of Ryan’s laugh still tucked in my chest, warm and steady like a lullaby stitched from second chances.

But even then…

Even with all the light he brought me…

I dreamed of Matteo.

And in the dream, he wasn’t cold.

He was breaking.

And somehow, I still wanted to hold the pieces.

__

The sheets felt cool against my skin, but my body was too warm, my thoughts too loud, my chest too full of moments I didn’t know how to categorize anymore.

I rolled over, clutching the pillow tighter, trying to convince myself I was fine, that tonight meant something steady, that I wasn’t still tied to someone who didn’t deserve my loyalty.

Ryan had been a perfect present, thoughtful, real but that didn’t stop my mind from drifting to sharp suits and sharper words, to a man who kissed me once and ruined everything after.

Why did Matteo still linger like smoke?

Why did one look from him undo all the peace I was trying to build with someone who never once made me question my worth?

I hated it.

I hated that his silence hurt more than his insults, that I still dreamed about him not out of desire, but out of the ache of unfinished stories.

I closed my eyes, willing myself to think of Ryan instead, to picture his soft smile, the way he watched me like I was made of stars and second chances.

But Matteo’s voice whispered through the cracks, cold and uninvited, dragging me back to that office, that kiss, that first night that started this whole damn war.

I sighed, rolling onto my back again, staring at the ceiling, wondering how long it would take before I could finally look at one man without seeing the shadow of another.