Ryan had been so charming, so kind, and funny. The rest of the night my mind lingered over the memories of the day.
“Yeah, but we’re almost out,” she grumbled.Įventually the paparazzi disappeared, obviously disappointed that they were not going to get the million dollar shot of Ryan Christensen in my pub. “Did you cut up any limes yet?” I was searching for a new topic while keeping my fluttering heart in check there was no way I was going to discuss the past few hours. Maybe some of the famous wandered off the reservation,” I replied flatly. I wanted so badly to run upstairs and dump a few buckets of water out of my second story window to shoo them away. She tilted her head over towards the window where two photographers stood on guard outside. I was not going to volunteer anything – I promised him. “What do you mean?” I tried to sound oblivious to her accusation.
“Did I miss something?” Marie asked, her eyes looked me up and down like I had the word ‘guilty’ written all over my body. Ryan paused in the open doorway and smiled at me one last time before disappearing into the bakery. I walked him to the gray steel door in the kitchen and watched him intently as he made it to the opposing door across the alleyway, completely unnoticed.
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