The weight pressing down on me had nothing to do with Rys's heavy arm protectively wrapped around my waist and everything to do with missing most application deadlines for a Master's degree in Italy.
Rys's gentle encouragement and his faith in me spurred me to click on several websites while he was answering an urgent work call. It turned out, most Italian colleges expected the applicants to send the paperwork in May and June. I was too late.
Not looking into it sooner and waiting to apply for so long were two of the many mistakes I made, scared of rejection and judgment. The doors of big, renowned universities were closed, and the few open ones terrified me.
Angelo Rizzo Jewelry School didn't want someone who made jewelry as a hobby using patterns other people posted online but someone who'd already created a collection and was ready to wow them with it. They wanted someone skillful and confident enough to make a sales pitch.
In turn, they'd cover the student's tuition — expensive, to say the least — and give them the knowledge bound to jumpstart their career in design.
The problem was, the non-classy set I wore for the graduation ceremony was my only original idea — two pieces when they wanted eight.
Pressure constricted my chest, and my heart quickened its beats to match the speed of the thoughts whizzing through my brain. I had a little longer than a month. A lot could happen in thirty days. Ironically, I knew it all too well now.
"Lyra?"
Rys's sleepy voice put my overthinking to rest. He flattened his palm over my belly and gently kissed my bare shoulder.
We'd fallen asleep on the couch while watching the second movie — a comedy neither of us cared about — but I woke up after what seemed to be a few hours and lay still, afraid to disturb his sleep.
I turned my head and touched Rys's lips with mine. "Did I wake you?"
He smoothed a hand over my hip. "I'm a light sleeper, but it wasn't you. Just a million things on my mind."
"Do you want to talk?"
"Not about that." Rys traced the curve of my waist with his fingertips. "Better tell me why you're awake."
He must've had too many business-related worries, but he never wanted to vent, and I wasn't one to push.
"Lots on my mind too, I guess," I said, facing him.
"I know a good cure for overthinking-caused insomnia." Rys curved his lips, and I hooked an arm around his neck.
"Are you trying to seduce me, Mr. Delano?"
His small smile morphed into a smirk. "If I wanted to, I'd just do it. No need to try."
I threw my leg on top of his and nestled into his side. "Only you can get away with saying something so cocky."
His chest rumbled with laughter. "If you want sex, just say it. You know I'm yours."
"After we do whatever you'd planned. I'm curious."
Rys gently pushed me away and sat, rotating his neck. "The plan depends on the weather. Let's see if it stopped raining."
Save for the light Rys turned on in his man cave, the house was dark. In the kitchen, Rys slid the door leading to the patio open and stepped aside so I'd go first.
It was hard to believe the night would be so calm after the fierce storm. We crossed the backyard holding hands and descended the steps to the beach.
"A night stroll?" I asked, knotting my fingers through Rys's.
He took his black flip-flops off. "Yeah. I sometimes walk here if I'm too wound up to sleep. So, what kept you up?"
I sank my bare feet in the surprisingly warm sand and watched it seep through my toes. "I checked some design programs in Italy while you were on the phone."
"And?" Rys asked as we started walking.
"It's too late to apply for most of them. The only two whose application windows are open would be almost impossible to get into."
"Why?"
I lowered my gaze to the sand. "One asks for something I don't have, specifically, original pieces. The other expects the applicants to speak Italian because only a few classes are in English. It's not an international scholarship, either, so they'd likely give preference to local students."
A breeze ruffled Rys's hair, and he pushed it back, sliding his fingers through the strands. "I see. Are we talking about scholarships only? What if a student paid? Would the application deadline shift then?"
Something about his seemingly innocent question made me wary. I'd told him I needed to save lots of times, which led me to a realization I didn't like one bit.
"Yeah," I whispered, hoping I'd made a mistake in judgment. "A bit."
Gentle waves rushed to the shore, and despite the sound of them breaking inches away from our feet, I heard Rys's sigh.
He stopped walking. An emotion I couldn't put a name to darkened the handsome planes of his face. He riveted his gaze on the water and bit his bottom lip.
"If the only thing standing between you and the future you deserve is a few thousand, consider the problem solved."
I slipped my hand from his. "You can't mean it."
"But I do. How much do you need?"
Was he seriously considering paying for my studies? A glance at his face confirmed he meant every word.
"No, Rys." I shook my head. "Thank you, but no."
He widened his stance and pinned his crossed arms over his broad chest as he faced me. "Why?"
"Because you've already done too much. You took me to dinner, paid for stuff, and gave me things. I don't want you to spend more money on me when I've given you nothing."
"Nothing." A dry, humorless chuckle left Rys's lips. "One of the things I love the most about you is also the one I dislike right now."
Love. He used that word a lot talking about the way I looked, the jewelry I made, and now my personality despite using two contradictory words in the same phrase.
"Awkwardness?"
Rys stopped staring at the water and looked at me instead. "Kindness."
"You're the kind one for taking care of me and being there for me when you didn't have to."
"That's not how I see it. You agreed to be with a man who can only be with you for a month without even questioning it. You let him in. You worry about him. But when he wants to do something for you, you won't accept it."
"You said it." My voice trembled, betraying how affected I was by Rys's words. "Why would someone spend thousands on a girl who's only there for thirty days? It's illogical and unfair to you. I chose to sleep with you, Rys. I didn't do it for—"
With a single step toward me, Rys reduced the distance between us to barely an inch and took my face between his palms. "You don't want to finish that sentence."
Tears pricked at my eyes. I looked toward the ocean so he wouldn't notice, but Rys put a thumb under my chin, forcing me to lift it and meet his gaze. Tension oozed from his expression, so tangible I felt it too. I'd only seen him that way when work stressed him out, and now it was because of me.
"Letting callous, controlling people crush the spirit of someone talented and kind by not giving her what's hers is unfair. Hearing you sob in the shower is unfair. Giving you a month when you deserve a lifetime is unfair. Unfair is letting you stress yourself out over money, but you know what? Paying for the most exclusive and expensive school you choose anywhere in the world wouldn't even make a dent in my account. That I hate bringing up my wealth doesn't turn ten zeroes into two."
Rys glided his fingertips over my jaw with such tenderness my heart constricted. "Don't you dare imply your affection is anything but priceless. Nothing I have would ever be enough to pay for the way you make me feel. Accept my help. Please, do it for me. Treat it as a favor I'm asking you for."
"I can't."
Rys dropped his hands from my face and raked them through his hair, groaning. "Lyra, I swear to God. Of course you can."
"You don't understand."
"Then make me."
"If I accepted help, the merit would be yours; not mine. I'd still be the same good-for-nothing girl my mother thinks I am. I don't know what to do." I balled my hands into fists, pouring every ounce of my frustration into the gesture. "I'm at a crossroads, and doubts are suffocating me. But maybe," I swallowed, "maybe the only way to finally be who I want to be is by being brave and going after what I want. Even if I need to work to make that happen."
Rys nodded. "Okay, I get that. But the merit would still be yours. Paying the tuition isn't the same as being successful in your studies, and you would be. I'd just save you time and money so you can go after your dream and leave that toxicity behind once and for all."
"I need to feel good about myself. And I need to be sure I'm not who they tell me I am."
Rys reached for my hand and wrapped it in his. "You have nothing to prove to them. You're already good enough."
"Says a successful, confident man."
Rys's lips twitched. "Says my therapist."
Each time I thought I'd read all of his chapters, he'd turn the page and make me see there was more, and the book was far from over.
"Why did you go to therapy?"
Rys traced a line on the wet sand with his foot. "Because having my father's help didn't mean I woke up in the morning, confident in my greatness. Just like having my help wouldn't mean you don't need to work hard to achieve what you set your mind on."
"You said you get it."
Rys pulled me into his embrace. "And I do, mi cielo. Which doesn't mean I agree."
"So, we'll spend the last hours of the night arguing."
"We're not arguing," Rys whispered, kissing my temple. "We're talking. You'll still be my Lyra I'm crazy about in the morning. And I'll still try to convince you to accept my help. We can call it a loan. Why don't we call it a loan? Except there's no way I'd make you give the money back. But years from now, when someone asks you about the person who inspired a piece called Emrys in your bestselling collection, okay then. Guess I'll let you tell them it was me."
I blinked away the tears and pressed my forehead to Rys's neck. "How cocky of you to assume I'd name a piece after you."
"There she is," Rys whispered. "That's the Lyra I know. Scratch that; that's the only Lyra."
I should've told him he was wrong because the girl who cried over her mother's harsh criticism wasn't the girl in his arms. But I allowed his words to wrap me in a warm blanket and hoped I'd remember the feeling when my stay in Marfolk came to an end.
Would you take Rys's money? Or you understand Lyra?
Honestly, guess it's nice to have a gorgeous billionaire who'd solve your financial troubles. That's what books are for.
Thanks for reading, guys! Don't forget about the little star.