Chapter 12 - THE TENTACLE OF REGRET: RYAN’S DESPERATE ATTEMPT AT A CORNER-ROOM APOLOGY
Ryan and Ava didn't dare approach the center of the gallery where I was standing surrounded by literary agents and publishing executives.
Instead, they hovered near the catering table by the back wall, pretending to inspect a tray of artisanal cheese cubes like two tourists lost in a museum.
However, as the evening progressed and the crowd began to disperse into smaller conversational groups, Ryan broke away from Ava.
He took a deep, trembling breath, squared his shoulders, and began walking slowly across the polished concrete floor toward me.
Every step he took was agonizingly hesitant, as though he expected my brother Noah to materialize out of thin air and tackle him through a drywall partition.
I excused myself from the editor I was talking to, turned around, and waited for him to reach me.
He stopped two feet away, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his eyes darting nervously around the luxurious gallery before locking onto mine.
“Nora,” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly over the ambient jazz music playing through the overhead speakers.
“Ryan,” I replied, my tone flat, polite, and thoroughly professional—the exact tone one uses for an acquaintance whose name you can barely remember. “Did you enjoy the gallery exhibition? Though I must confess, this event is strictly invitation-only. How did you get in?”
Ryan flushed a deep, mottled red, his pride stinging under the weight of my indifference.
“We... we saw the signs outside,” he stammered, gesturing vaguely toward the street. “I... I just wanted to say... congratulations. I saw your name on the publishing banner outside. Lin Editorial Consulting. You... you did all this.”
“I did,” I agreed simply, taking a slow sip of my champagne.
“Nora, I’m sorry,” he blurted out, the words rushing past his lips in a desperate, pathetic torrent. “About everything. About Valentine’s Day, about the way I treated you, about Ava... everything. My life has completely fallen apart since you left. I lost my commercial contracts, my apartment lease went under, and Ava and I... well, we realized we were never meant to be anything more than friends. It was a complete disaster.”
I listened to him unload his inventory of misery without feeling a single flicker of sympathy, anger, or triumph.
It was just background noise.
The weather report of a storm that had passed months ago.
“I know your life fell apart, Ryan,” I said softly, my voice cutting through his self-pitying monologue like a glass cutter. “Because you built your life on the assumption that other people would always clean up your messes while you coasted on charm and entitlement.”
He stared at me, his eyes wide and wet with unspotted tears. “Is there... is there any way we can talk? Over coffee? Just to catch up? I still love you, Nora. I really do.”
I let out a quiet, genuine laugh—a light, melodic sound that seemed to sting him worse than a slap across the face.
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“Ryan, I don't drink coffee with strangers who used to trespass on my emotional boundaries,” I said smoothly. “And as for love? Love requires respect, loyalty, and partnership. You traded all three for a drunken dare with your best friend.”
I turned my back on him, leaving him standing alone in the middle of the gallery floor, staring at my retreating shoulder as I walked back toward my authors.
