your parents that I'd be there."
"They didn't really let you say no."
"If I had wanted to say no, I would have said no. But I want to go. I like your parents and I love the cook's roast chicken."
"It's just chicken."
The doors slid open and they stepped into the hallway, the tension thick between them. He followed her to her apartment door.
"Ryan, can you please just say what you mean?" she asked, placing her key in the lock. "Did you want to have dinner with your parents alone? Because if you do, then I'll stay home."
That sounded like one of Dante's circles of hell. A four-course dinner of torture.
"No, but–"
"Then I'm going. If you don't want to ride together, I can go on my own. Just let me know."
"Fine, and you don't have to be so snippy about it. I was just giving you a chance to bow out if you really didn't want to go. I would think you'd be more grateful."
Even their arguing felt familiar, but not nearly as catastrophic as it had seemed when they were younger. Then every disagreement had been bigger and more important than it really was. Now, this was only some light bickering.
Her brows shot up. "Did you just call me snippy, Ryan Beck? You better take that back quick."
"I take it back," he said immediately, holding up his hands in surrender. He'd only said it to get a reaction from her. It was a bad habit from the past. "I'm sorry."
"Snippy," she muttered under her breath. "Really? I should make you go to your parents' dinner all by yourself for that crack, buster."
"I really am sorry," he apologized again. "I don't know why I'm trying to pick a fight with you."
She stepped into the apartment and tossed her purse on the kitchen counter. "I know why you're doing it. You're doing it to keep me at arm's length. Mission accomplished. I don't want to be around you right now. Congratulations."
He opened his mouth to tell her she was wrong but then snapped it shut again. She was probably right. If they were arguing, then he wouldn't think about how much he'd missed her all these years. How he still thought about her when it was most inconvenient.
Like when he was with other women.
If he was completely honest with himself, he'd been comparing his dates with Mariah his entire adult life. He didn't enjoy the feeling that he'd been that disingenuous in his relationships. It didn't speak well of him and the women deserved better.
"I appreciate the apology," she said, holding the door open for him. "Now I think I'd like to lie down and rest for a little while. You can send me a text and let me know what time we're leaving for dinner."
She was mad at him. Hell, he was mad at himself. It might be a good idea to give them both some space.
"We can leave at six if that's convenient."
"It's fine."
Apparently, Ryan didn't know shit about women, but one thing he did know was that it wasn't a good thing when they said something was fine. It wasn't fine, and he was going to hear about it at some point.
"I'll call you later."
"Fine."
Shit...two fines in a row. He was in the doghouse and eating Milk-Bones.
Since the minute his plane had touched down in Chicago, he'd been acting like an asshole to Mariah. It had to stop.
Something had to change. Because one very important thing hadn't.
He still had feelings for Mariah Campbell.
Mariah was still fuming when she slammed her door shut the minute that Ryan exited her apartment. Yes, it was petty, but that was the mood she was in at the moment. He was being a jerk on purpose and she was tired of it. They'd been circling each other like two boxers and she was exhausted. They weren't getting anywhere - which she assumed was the whole point of his behavior - and she couldn't take much more.
Grant had hit a nerve at lunch when he'd pointed out that she and Ryan had unfinished business. Mariah had managed to dig a hole and bury it but since his arrival it had brought up so much emotion from the past.
I'm not completely over him. I still miss him.
They'd had their issues but looking back they didn't seem so insurmountable now. When she was young, she'd thought that they needed to agree on everything. Now she could see that was a naive hope. She didn't want to date a