It Ends With Us

by Colleen Hoover

  I don't know if we'll get any customers today, but we're both acting like this is the best thing that's ever happened to us, so I don't think that matters. Besides, Marshall will come in at some point today and my mother will come in after she gets off work. That's two customers for sure. That's plenty.

  Allysa squeezes my arm when the front door begins to open. I suddenly grow a little panicked, because what if something goes wrong?

  And then I do panic, because something just went wrong. Terribly wrong. My very first customer is none other than Ryle Kincaid.

  He stops when the door closes behind him and he looks around in awe. "What?" he says, turning in a circle. "How in the . . . ?" He looks over at me and Allysa. "This is incredible. It doesn't even look like the same building!"

  Okay, maybe I'm fine with him being the first customer.

  It takes him a few minutes to actually make it to the counter because he can't stop touching things and looking at things. When he finally does reach us, Allysa runs around the counter and hugs him. "Isn't it beautiful?" she says. She waves her hand in my direction. "It was all her idea. All of it. I just helped with the dirty work."

  Ryle laughs. "I find it hard to believe that your Pinterest skills didn't play a little part."

  I nod. "She's being modest. Her skills were half of what brought this vision to life."

  Ryle smiles at me and it might as well have been a knife to the chest, because ouch.

  He slaps his hands on the counter and says, "Am I the first official customer?"

  Allysa hands him one of our flyers. "You have to actually buy something to be considered a customer."

  Ryle glances over the flyer and then sets it back down on the counter. He walks to one of the displays and grabs a vase full of purple lilies. "I want these," he says, setting them on the counter.

  I smile, wondering if he realizes he just picked lilies. Kind of ironic.

  "Do you want us to deliver them somewhere?" Allysa says.

  "You guys deliver?"

  "Allysa and I don't," I reply. "We have a delivery driver on standby. We weren't sure if we'd actually need him today."

  "Are you actually buying these for a girl?" Allysa asks. She's just prying into her brother's love life like a sister would naturally do, but I catch myself stepping closer to her so I can hear his answer better.

  "I am," he says. His eyes meet mine and he adds, "I don't think about her very much, though. Hardly ever."

  Allysa grabs a card and slides it to him. "Poor girl," she says. "You are such a dick." She taps her finger on the card. "Write your message to her on the front and the address you want them delivered to on the back."

  I watch him as he bends over the card and writes on both sides. I know I don't have a right, but I'm brimming with jealousy.

  "Are you bringing this girl to my birthday party Friday?" Allysa asks him.

  I watch his reaction closely. He just shakes his head and without looking up he says, "No. Are you going, Lily?"

  I can't tell by his voice alone if he's hoping I'll be there or hoping I won't. Considering the stress I seem to cause him, I'm guessing it's the latter.

  "I haven't decided yet."

  "She'll be there," Allysa says, answering for me. She looks at me and narrows her eyes. "You're coming to my party whether you like it or not. If you don't show up, I'll quit."

  When Ryle is finished writing, he tucks the card into the envelope attached to the flowers. Allysa rings up his total and he pays in cash. He looks at me while he's counting out his money. "Lily, do you know that it's custom for a new business to frame the first dollar they make?"

  I nod. Of course I know that. He knows I know that. He's just rubbing it in my face that his dollar will be the one framed on my wall for the life of this store. I almost encourage Allysa to give him a refund, but this is business. I have to leave my wounded pride out of it.

  Once he has his receipt in hand, he taps his fist on the counter to get my attention. He dips his head a little and, with a genuine smile, he says, "Congratulations, Lily."

  He turns and walks out of the store. As soon as the door closes behind him, Allysa is grabbing for the envelope. "Who in the hell is he sending flowers to?" she says as she pulls the card out. "Ryle doesn't send flowers."

  She reads the front of the card out loud. "Make it stop."

  Holy shit.

  She stares at it for a moment, repeating the phrase. "Make it stop? What in the hell does that even mean?" she asks.

  I can't take it another second. I grab the card from her and flip it over. She leans over and reads the back of it with me.

  "He is such an idiot," she says with a laugh. "He wrote the address to our floral shop on the back." She takes the card out of my hands.

  Wow.

  Ryle just bought me flowers. Not just any flower. He bought me a bouquet of lilies.

  Allysa picks up her phone. "I'll text him and tell him he screwed up." She shoots him a text and then laughs as she stares at the flowers. "How can a neurosurgeon be such an idiot?"

  I can't stop grinning. I'm relieved she's staring at the flowers and not at me or she may put two and two together. "I'll keep them in my office until we figure out where he intended for them to go." I scoop up the vase and whisk away my flowers.

  Chapter Seven

  "Stop fidgeting," Devin says.

  "I'm not fidgeting."

  He loops his arm through mine as he walks me toward the elevator. "Yes, you are. And if you pull that top up over your cleavage one more time, it'll defeat the whole purpose of your little black dress." He grabs my top and yanks it back down, and then proceeds to reach inside to adjust my bra.

  "Devin!" I slap his hand away and he laughs.

  "Relax, Lily. I've touched way better boobs than yours and I'm still gay."

  "Yeah, but I bet those boobs were attached to people you probably hang out with more than once every six months."

  Devin laughs. "True, but that's half your fault. You're the one who left us high and dry to play with flowers."

  Devin was one of my favorite people at the marketing firm I worked at, but we weren't close enough to where we actively became friends outside of work. He stopped by the floral shop this afternoon and Allysa took to him almost immediately. She begged him to come to the party with me and since I didn't really want to show up alone, I ended up begging him to come, too.

  I smooth my hands over my hair and try to catch a glimpse of my reflection in the elevator walls.

  "Why are you so nervous?" he asks.

  "I'm not nervous. I just hate showing up to places where I don't know anyone."

  Devin smirks knowingly and then says, "What's his name?"

  I release a pent-up breath. Am I that transparent? "Ryle. He's a neurosurgeon. And he wants to have sex with me really, really bad."

  "How do you know he wants to have sex with you?"

  "Because he literally got down on his knees and said, 'Please, Lily. Please have sex with me.' "

  Devin raises an eyebrow. "He begged?"

  I nod. "It wasn't as pathetic as it sounds. He's usually more composed."

  The elevator dings and the doors begin to open. I can hear music pouring from down the hallway. Devin takes both of my hands in his and says, "So what's the plan? Do I need to make this guy jealous?"

  "No," I say, shaking my head. "That wouldn't be right." But . . . Ryle does make it a point every time he sees me to tell me he hopes he never sees me again. "Maybe just a little?" I say, scrunching up my nose. "A smidge?"

  Devin pops his jaw and says, "Consider it done." He puts his hand on my lower back as he walks me out of the elevator. There's only one visible door in the hallway, so we make our way over and ring the doorbell.

  "Why is there only one door?" he says.

  "She owns the whole top floor."

  He chuckles. "And she works for you? Damn, your life just keeps getting more and more interesting."

  The door begins to open, and I'm ext
remely relieved to see Allysa standing in front of me. There's music and laughter pouring out of the apartment behind her. She's holding a champagne glass in one hand and a riding crop in the other. She sees me staring at the riding crop with a confused look on my face, so she tosses it over her shoulder and grabs my hand. "It's a long story," she says, laughing. "Come in, come in!"

  She pulls me in and I squeeze Devin's hand and drag him behind me. She continues pulling us through a crowd of people until we reach the other side of the living room. "Hey!" she says, tugging on Marshall's arm. He turns around and smiles at me, then pulls me in for a hug. I glance behind him, and around us, but there's no sign of Ryle. Maybe I got lucky and he got called in to work tonight.

  Marshall reaches out for Devin's hand and shakes it. "Hey, man! Good to meet you!"

  Devin wraps an arm around my waist. "I'm Devin!" he yells over the music. "I'm Lily's sexual partner!"

  I laugh and elbow him, then lean in to his ear. "That's Marshall. Wrong guy, but nice effort."

  Allysa grabs my arm and starts to pull me away from Devin. Marshall begins speaking to him, and my hand is reaching out behind me as I'm being pulled in the opposite direction.

  "You'll be fine!" Devin yells.

  I follow Allysa into the kitchen, where she shoves a glass of champagne in my hand. "Drink," she says. "You deserve it!"

  I take a sip of the champagne, but I can't even appreciate it now that I'm getting a look at her industrial-sized kitchen with two full stovetops and a fridge bigger than my apartment. "Holy shit," I whisper. "You actually live here?"

  She giggles. "I know," she says. "And to think, I didn't even have to marry him for money. Marshall had seven bucks and drove a Ford Pinto when I fell in love with him."

  "Doesn't he still drive a Ford Pinto?"

  She sighs. "Yeah, but we have a lot of good memories in that car."

  "Gross."

  She wiggles her eyebrows. "So . . . Devin is cute."

  "And probably more into Marshall than me."

  "Ah, man," she says. "That's a bummer. I thought I was playing matchmaker when I invited him to the party tonight."

  The kitchen door opens and Devin walks in. "Your husband is looking for you," he says to Allysa. She twirls her way out of the kitchen, giggling the whole time. "I really like her," Devin says.

  "She's great, huh?"

  He leans against the island and says, "So. I think I just met The Beggar."

  My heart flutters down my chest. I think The Neurosurgeon has a better ring to it. I take another sip of my champagne. "How do you know it was him? Did he introduce himself?"

  He shakes his head. "Nah, but he overheard Marshall introducing me to someone as 'Lily's date.' I thought the look he gave me was going to set me on fire. That's why I came in here. I like you, but I'm not willing to die for you."

  I laugh. "Don't worry, I'm sure that death glare he gave you was really his smile. They're superimposed most of the time."

  The door swings open again and I immediately stiffen, but it's only a caterer. I sigh with relief. Devin says, "Lily," like my name is a disappointment.

  "What?"

  "You look like you're about to puke," he says, accusingly. "You really like him."

  I roll my eyes. But then I let my shoulders drop and I fake cry. "I do, Devin. I do, I just don't want to."

  He takes my glass of champagne and downs the remainder of it, then locks his arm in mine again. "Let's go mingle," he says, pulling me out of the kitchen against my will.

  The room is even more crowded now. There have to be more than a hundred people here. I'm not even sure I know that many people.

  We walk around and work the room. I stand back while Devin does most of the talking. He knows someone in common with every person he's met so far, and after about half an hour of following him around, I'm convinced he's made it a personal game to find someone in common with everyone here. The whole time I mingle with him, my attention is half on him and half on the room, searching for traces of Ryle. I don't see him anywhere and I begin to wonder if the guy Devin saw was even Ryle to begin with.

  "Well, that's odd," a woman says. "What do you suppose it is?"

  I look up and see that she's staring at a piece of art on the wall. It looks like a photograph blown up on canvas. I tilt my head to inspect it. The woman turns her nose up and says, "I don't know why anyone would bother turning that photograph into wall art. It's awful. It's so blurry, you can't even tell what it is." She walks away in a huff, and I'm relieved. I mean . . . it's a bit weird, but who am I to judge Allysa's taste?

  "What do you think?"

  His voice is low, deep, and right behind me. I close my eyes briefly and inhale a steadying breath before quietly exhaling, hoping he doesn't notice his voice has any effect on me whatsoever. "I like it. I'm not quite sure what it is, but it's interesting. Your sister has good taste."

  He steps around me so that he's at my side, facing me. He takes a step closer until he's so close, he brushes my arm. "You brought a date?"

  He's asking it like it's a casual question, but I know it isn't. When I fail to respond, he leans in until he's whispering in my ear. He repeats himself, but this time it isn't a question. "You brought a date."

  I find the courage to look over at him and instantly wish I hadn't. He's in a black suit that makes the scrubs look like child's play. First I swallow the unexpected lump in my throat and then I say, "Is it a problem that I brought a date?" I look away from him and back at the photograph hanging on the wall. "I was trying to make things easier on you. You know. Just trying to make it stop."

  He smirks and then downs the rest of his wine. "How thoughtful of you, Lily." He tosses his empty wineglass toward a trash can in the corner of the room. He makes the shot, but the glass shatters when it hits the bottom of the empty container. I glance around me, but no one saw what just happened. When I look back at Ryle, he's halfway down a hallway. He disappears into a room and I stand here, looking at the picture again.

  That's when I see it.

  The picture is blurred, so it was hard to make out at first. But I can recognize that hair from anywhere. That's my hair. It's hard to miss, along with the marine-grade polymer lounge chair I'm lying on. This is the picture he took on the rooftop the first night we met. He must have had it blown up and distorted so no one would notice what it was. I bring my hand to my neck, because my blood feels like it's bubbling. It's really warm in here.

  Allysa appears at my side. "It's weird, huh?" she says, looking at the picture.

  I scratch at my chest. "It's really hot in here," I say. "Don't you think?"

  She glances around the room. "Is it? I hadn't noticed, but I'm a little drunk. I'll tell Marshall to turn on the air."

  She disappears again, and the more I stare at the picture, the angrier I get. The man has a picture of me hanging in the apartment. He bought me flowers. He's giving me attitude because I brought a date to his sister's party. He's acting like there's actually something between us, and we've never even kissed!

  It all hits me at once. The anger . . . the irritation . . . the half glass of champagne I had in the kitchen. I'm so mad, I can't even think straight. If the guy wants to have sex with me so bad . . . he shouldn't have fallen asleep! If he doesn't want me to swoon, he shouldn't buy me flowers! He shouldn't hang cryptic pictures of me where he lives!

  All I want is fresh air. I need fresh air. Luckily, I know just where to find it.

  Moments later, I burst through the door to the rooftop. There are stragglers from the party up here. Three of them, seated on the patio furniture. I ignore them and walk to the ledge with the good view and lean over it. I suck in several deep breaths and try to calm myself down. I want to go downstairs and tell him to make up his damn mind, but I know I need to have a clear head before I do that.

  The air is cold, and for some reason, I blame that on Ryle. Everything is his fault tonight. All of it. Wars, famine, gun violence--it all somehow links back to Ryle.r />
  "Can we have a few minutes alone?"

  I spin around, and Ryle is standing near the other guests. Immediately, all three of them nod and begin to stand up to give us privacy. I hold up my hands and say, "Wait," but none of them look at me. "It's not necessary. Really, you don't have to leave."

  Ryle stands stoically with his hands in his pockets while one of the guests mutters, "It's fine, we don't mind." They begin to file back down the stairwell. I roll my eyes and spin back toward the ledge once I'm alone with him.

  "Does everyone always do what you say?" I ask, irritated.

  He doesn't respond. His footsteps are slow and deliberate as he closes in on me. My heart begins to beat like it's on a speed-date, and I start scratching at my chest again.

  "Lily," he says from behind me.

  I turn around and grip the ledge behind me with both hands. His eyes journey down to my cleavage. As soon as they do, I yank at the top of my dress so he can't see it, and then I grip the ledge again. He laughs and takes another step closer. We're almost touching now, and my brain is mush. It's pathetic. I'm pathetic.

  "I feel like you have a lot to say," he says. "So I'd like to give you the opportunity to speak your naked truth."

  "Hah!" I say with a laugh. "Are you sure about that?"

  He nods, so I prepare to let him have it. I push against his chest and make my way around him so that he's the one leaning against the ledge now.

  "I can't tell what you want, Ryle! And every time I get to the point where I start to not give a shit, you show up again out of the blue! You show up at my work, you show up at my apartment door, you show up at parties, you . . ."

  "I live here," he says, excusing the last one. That pisses me off even more. I clench my fists.

  "Ugh! You're driving me crazy! Do you want me or do you not?"

  He stands up straight and takes a step toward me. "Oh, I want you, Lily. Make no mistake about that. I just don't want to want you."

  My whole body sighs at that comment. Partly out of frustration and partly because everything he says makes me shiver and I hate that I allow him to make me feel like this.

  I shake my head. "You don't get it, do you?" I say, softening my voice. I feel too defeated right now to keep yelling at him. "I like you, Ryle. And knowing that you only want me for one night makes me really, really sad. And maybe if this were a few months ago, we could have had sex and it would have been fine. You would have walked away and I could have easily moved on with my life. But it's not a few months ago. You waited too long, and too many pieces of me are invested in you now, so please. Stop flirting with me. Stop hanging pictures of me in your apartment. And stop sending me flowers. Because when you do those things, it doesn't feel good, Ryle. It actually kind of hurts."