86 - A friend

MORGANA FOSTER

It's a little past 2:00 p.m. when we leave the boutique. Ryan still has a pouty look because I didn't let him into the fitting room, it's adorable. The wind passing by carries the scent of the salty beach water as we walk through the hotel toward the restaurant.

Tyron is walking behind us, carrying the bags. I insisted he didn't need to, but he took the bags without even responding to my insistence. We reach the restaurant door, and he turns to Ryan.

"Thank you for bringing me here," I say, looking at him with a smile. "I think I really needed this."

"We both did," he replies, holding my hand. "Sometimes it's important to disconnect from everything and just be present."

"Mr. Ryan, I'll stay here at the door," he says, holding the bags and crossing his hands in front of his body.

"Okay, I'll call if I need anything."

I squeeze Ryan's hand and draw his attention to me. He leans his face in so I can whisper.

"Ryan, he should eat with us," I say. "He's been with us since ear