“I’m going to take Duke for a walk,” Ryder says to Lauren. “Come with us?” he asks when he returns to meet me near the front door. He looks at me expectantly, but I can’t bring myself to move an inch. I’m engulfed in disbelief, staring at the apron wrapped around Lauren’s waist and the way she’s made herself right at home in Ryder’s cabin. There are interior decorating and parenting magazines fanned out on the coffee table, and little feminine touches everywhere. Flowers on the table. Floral throw pillows on the couch that certainly weren’t there the last time I was here. A soon-to-be wife’s fingerprints at every turn.
I nod gravely and step back outside while Ryder calls for Duke. Lauren pours coffee in the kitchen, her gaze moving to mine as she watches Ryder join me. “Don’t be long, you two,” she sings. “I’d hate for your coffee to get cold.”
“Be right back,” Ryder says, shutting the door behind us. Duke trots past us and begins down the dirt driveway. The second we’re alone, Ryder grabs my hand and leads me after Duke, ushering me away from the cabin.
“Don’t you touch me!” I burst out, yanking my hand from him. I walk briskly after Duke and Ryder follows, his words spilling in a rush.
“Elise, slow down. Just listen to me.”
“Start talking, Ryder.”
“How are you feeling?”
“How am I feeling?”
“Yeah, since last night.”
I whirl around and go toe-to-toe with him, shoving his chest hard. His heels kick up dirt as they slide into the ground. “You son of a bitch!”
“I’m not marrying her, Elise. I know how this looks, but it’s not what you think.”
“She’s wearing a fucking ring, Ryder! You picked it out, didn’t you? Say it. I want to hear you say it!”
“Yes, alright! I bought the ring. But it was years ago. I proposed back when we were together. She wanted to think about it. She eventually turned me down. I didn’t ask for it back.”
“Why is she wearing it now if you’re not marrying her? And she’s pregnant?” I screech, giving him another shove. “She’s fucking pregnant? You lying, hypocritical son of a bitch!”
He grapples with my wrists as I beat at his chest. “The baby’s not mine. Stop it, Elise.”
“Don’t tell me what to fucking do! Why? Tell me why you gave me this gift? What was it all for then, huh? Tell me why!” I keep pounding into his chest, tears scorching my face. My vision is distorted, but I can see so many things pass over his hardened gaze.
“Because I love you. You know that. Calm the hell down, damn it!” He catches one of my wrists and juts his head back to keep his face away from my fists.
“How long have you been engaged? I deserve to know!”
“Oh, yeah?” He catches my wrist and presses it against the other behind my back, holding me at arm’s length. “Just like I deserve to know how many times you’ve fucked Christian Walker since you kicked me out of your place that day? You don’t offer me any goddamn courtesies. What makes you think I owe you one now, huh?”
“You bastard.” I shake my head, cutting him with a searing glare. My face is drenched and my chest is heaving. “I didn’t touch Christian while I was with you. And even if I did, I tried to tell you. I tried to fucking tell you! I’m not girlfriend material. I don’t make promises because I know I can’t fucking keep them. But you!” I explode into another fit of fury, wiggling against his hold, trying desperately to break my wrists free. “All that bullshit you spewed to me. I believed you! I actually believed you.”
“I never lied to you. Not once did I tell you something false.”
“Oh, no? What does failing to tell me you’re engaged classify as, huh? It’s not your baby? Are you kidding me? What, did she just miraculously get knocked up? Did that ring just accidentally slide on to her fucking finger?”
“She showed up on my doorstep wanting to talk. She’s pregnant with some other dude’s kid. He doesn’t want the baby. I couldn’t turn her away.”
“No, so you just propose to her instead? Invite her in and say, ‘Sure, move in to my fucking house?’” I groan in frustration and give up fighting his hold, glaring up at him through the tears.
“I didn’t propose to her. She was wearing the ring when she showed up. She’s going through a hard time. She’s been rethinking everything lately. What happened to us, how she turned me down years ago…all of it. The asshole that knocked her up took off and she’s lost right now. Confused. She was looking for…comfort. That’s all.”
“She wants you back.” The words come out almost petulantly, and I hate the sound.
“Yes. But she doesn’t have me.” His hand slides behind my back and grasps at one of my wrists. He brings my hand around and presses it against his beating heart. “You do. Did. Still do.”
“She’s living with you. How could you…” My lip quivers and I look away, knowing damn well I’m the hypocrite, here. Ryder’s right. I’ve been fucking Christian Walker. Practically living at his place. I can’t process any of this. There’s no absorbing the harsh reality that is staring me in the face. “Have you been sleeping with her?” Stupid question, I know. But my words asked no permission from my brain or mouth.
Ryder looks away, his grip hardening on my hand, saying nothing but saying everything. I feel his heart thrash harder against his chest. Those rich, soulful eyes are unwavering and tormented, and nothing makes my stomach ache more. “Why are you here, Elise?”
I rip my hand from his chest and stumble back, panting as I work to drag in deep breaths. “It doesn’t matter anymore. None of it does.”
“Why are you so angry about finding Lauren here? Come on, I want to hear you say it.”
“There’s nothing to say. It’s too late. I’m too goddamn late.”
“It’s never too late. Say it!”
“Because I’m fucking jealous, alright? Are you happy?” My feet make a kick-start, darting around him, but he jumps in front of me. I veer to the right and he matches my move, blocking me off from each direction.
“Why are you jealous?”
“Get out of my way, Ryder.”
“No. Tell me why you’re jealous.”
“Because I want you, you know that!”
“Nuh-uh. Wanting me isn’t enough. Wrong answer, Elise. Try again.”
I can’t handle looking into his eyes. They’re wild and on fire and they’re not mine. None of him is mine. He belongs to Lauren now. “Let me go, Ryder!”
“Not until I hear the truth. I want to hear it straight from your mouth.”
“I love you!” The affirmation bursts from my lips like sharp firecrackers. I hear Duke bark in the background but it’s a muffled sound, muted by the potency of my words. “I love you, okay? Fuck! Is that enough for you?”
Ryder stills and I’m finally able to pass him. I beeline it for my car but the gentle touch of his hand on mine stops me. His fingers slowly lace through mine. I can’t turn around. I can’t look at him. If I do, what I see will level me.
“Elise,” he says quietly, moving to step around me. When he aligns himself in front of me and peers down into my eyes, my heart implodes. I was right.
There’s nothing but love there.
“You’re not the other woman, here. You’re the woman.” He gives me a small, careful smile, and those dimples peek out from their hiding place. I missed them. I missed him.
I love him.
“Come here,” he whispers, pulling me flush against him. His lips come down and taste mine, kissing tenderly at first in a soft exploration. I collapse against him and his arms close around me, lifting me up and off the ground. My legs curl around his waist and hook at the ankles, and I breathe him in. I want to drown in him.
“What about Lauren?” I ask, gasping for breath.
“I’ll take care of it, I promise.”
“But you—”
“I haven’t been sleeping with her.”
“You haven’t?” I want to lash out again, want to yell at him
for not telling me the first time around, but I know that he was just giving me a taste of my own medicine. And I of all people know what it’s like to want to hurt someone because you’re hurting.
He nips my lip and brushes his nose against mine, holding me against his firm body. “No. She knows I’m not interested in getting back together. She knows where I stand. She’s hopeful. Persistent. But she knows.”
“You can’t just kick her out. Not when she’s alone and pregnant and scared.” I can’t believe the words are coming out of my mouth, but it must be proof that God gave me a heart. It must be in there, somewhere. It’s bleeding for Ryder, after all.
Of course I want him to kick the bitch out. She had her chance. She turned him down and tossed him out like trash, incapable of seeing what kind of man he is. The good kind. The strong kind. Loyal and sincere. A rock.
She blew that chance, and I’ll be damned if I stand around and let her move in and try to stake her claim on him again. Not now. Not when I know I have his heart. Not when I know my place in his life and what he is willing to do to give me his.
Holy shit, I have Ryder Jacobson’s heart.
“Where do we go from here?” I ask. “What do we do?”
“We start over.”
“There’s no starting over. I can’t take back the things I’ve done. Lauren’s in your kitchen right now.”
“I never said we erase the past. What’s done is done. But we can change direction. Can you do that? Do you want that?”
“Yes. God, yes.”
“Then let’s do it.”
I study the lines of his face, wonder if all he’s saying is possible. It has to be. If I didn’t believe it was, I would have never showed up here like this in the first place.
“I can go to France with you,” his voice breaks my train of thought. “It’s just what we need. Think about it. Think about what it could mean.”
“What?”
“We can go together. We should just leave. Get away. Work all this shit out, you and me.”
“What about your job? What about Duke? How the hell would you pay for it? I have some money saved, but I don’t know if it’s enough to cover everything—”
“I’ve never asked my parents for a damn thing,” he says, his eager knuckles massaging my shoulders. “I can ask them for this. They’d help me, no questions asked. I can talk to my boss and tell him there’s been an emergency. I can ask for leave. If he fires me, fuck it. I can be a maintenance grunt anywhere. This is my priority. You. Us. Right now.”
I stare at him hard, my head spinning at how quickly this whole thing took a turn. Just minutes ago I was standing in his home, speaking to Lauren. His ex. His faux fiancée.
His replacement.
I lick my lips and kiss him once more, then let my legs slide down his body until my feet hit the ground. I blink. “I love you, Ryder. But I think…” My hands drop from his shoulders and fall to my sides. “I need to be my something.”
“Be your something?” His brows pinch and he studies my face.
“Before I can be yours.”
Understanding smoothes out his forehead and his eyes go soft, all warm and melting. It turns me to mush.
“I need to see what you see. What Jay sees. What Tee saw. I don’t want to just love you. I want to give you everything…give you all of me. What you deserve. But I can’t do that. Not yet. I’m beyond grateful for the plane ticket. I’ll never be able to express what it means to me. But I need to go to France by myself.” I watch him warily for a moment, hoping I haven’t stuck another dagger in his heart. His lips part slightly, a small smile tipping them up. He slowly bends forward and presses a kiss to my forehead, letting an arm fold casually over my shoulder. He lassoes me back in to an embrace and sighs heavily into my hair.
“You go be your something, baby,” he says, the tone rolling through me like hot, oozing caramel. “When you get back, you can be mine.”
My arms shoot forward and wrap tightly around his neck, my face burrowing into his throat, just beneath his chin. His scruff scrapes at my forehead and I memorize the sensation. I’ll miss it, but it will be here waiting for me when I come home. I don’t know how, but I realize that I suddenly trust that implicitly.
“Thank you,” I whisper, tilting my head to drop a soft kiss on his throat.
“Through hardships to the stars.” His breath tickles my skin and I step back, glancing over at the cabin, deciding at that moment to let all of my worries about Lauren dissolve. I have to let them go. I have to do this. What choice do I have? Duke’s paws pad in the distance as he trots back toward us. It’s time to leave.
I’m most definitely headed for the stars.
CHAPTER 16
My short, choppy blonde cut brushes my shoulders as I tuck it behind my ears. It’s uneven and wild, a spontaneous, thoughtless labor of love. A snap decision made the moment I arrived at my hotel room in the Marais. There I lost myself in the Musée Carnavalet, and found myself in the eclectic crackle of rue Oberkampf. It was a Christmas unlike any other. One that turned my soul inside out and my mind upside down. I was no longer Elise Duchamp, notorious, antisocial home wrecker.
Not in Paris, anyway.
Only one thing was missing. A tatted-up, rugged bibliophile with dimples that could kill and eyes that could look right through you.
Sea-Tac airport greets me and I slide into a cab the second I dart away from baggage claim. I direct the driver to my apartment, telling him to take his time getting to Gig Harbor. I don’t mind spending the extra cash for a longer ride home. I have a lot to process, and even though I’m immediately immersed in my familiar environment, everything feels distant and foreign, as if Seattle is an untouched destination on my itinerary. The sights on I-5 whiz past as we head closer to Tacoma, light dancing against a dark sky. I still see the bustling night life of rue Oberkampf, can picture the sparkling outline of the Eiffel Tower. It’s all there, right here.
At home.
I tip the driver generously when we reach my place, and he helps me unload my luggage before waving me off. My apartment smells stale, like dead air riddled with the faint scent of gingerbread cookies—the ones I baked just before I left for Paris. I flick the light on and sink into the couch cushions, my hand still loosely wrapped around my suitcase handle. I stare blankly into the dim light of the living room, a sad yet sated smile drifting over my lips. It’s funny how home can even smell funny when you’re away for only seven days.
How will I ever explain to Ryder what his gift means to me?
I sigh and stand, wandering over to the kitchen counter.
There is no explaining it to him. Or to anyone, for that matter. Some adventures are only understood in the spirit—your spirit, the one who experienced them. But I can show him. With words and with honesty. For once, honesty.
And maybe, just maybe, a few others will consider that honesty. Maybe they’ll catch a glimpse of the new Elise Duchamp. I’m still me. I’m still broken, but I’m mending. A few days away from home didn’t wash away all of my sins. It didn’t miraculously heal me from years of hurt, and it won’t make the long road ahead any easier.
But it did give me hope, and with time, it will give me peace.
I still can’t make up for the things I’ve done. For the way I’ve hurt people. I know the words I wrote in Paris benefit me more than any of them, easing a weight I’ve been carrying for far too long, but there’s still a part of me that wishes they’ll hear my sincerity, the delicate turning of a leaf.
The Gig Harbor Weekly glares up at me from the counter, its ink fresh and pages crisp. I haven’t touched this issue, but I know what’s inside. Ryder promised he’d drop off a copy the second it released, so it would be waiting for me when I got home. My fingers graze the edges for a moment and I step away, ready to call it a night. Jet lag will hit me with a vengeance tomorrow morning, and I know I need to rest up and brace myself for the transition I’m about to face. I have no idea what to expect. How I’ll
be received by the people I left here in Washington.
I only know I have a different reflection.
Unraveling my scarf and slipping out of my coat and tall black boots, I drag my feet into the bedroom and collapse onto the bed, falling fast asleep the second my head relaxes into the cool pillows.
I see stars as I drift off, bright and twinkling and close enough to touch.
***
The familiar jingle of the bells on Stella’s front door warms my ears. It feels good to be home. I grip a trusty cup of coffee in one hand, struggling with the door. My brain is foggy, but the aroma of French toast and frying bacon slams into me as I step inside, snapping my senses into high alert. The breakfast crowd is bustling, as usual, and the second the door closes behind me, a quiet hush falls all around me, sets of curious eyes landing on me from every direction. Soft whispers erupt from left to right, and I look down, hurrying to make my way toward the kitchen.
I feel Natalie and Brad’s eyes on me as I pass by their sections, but I don’t look up, just keep moving. Brad says hey, but it’s strangely weak and hesitant—a tone I’ve never come to expect from him. I wave half-heartedly in his direction and slip through the kitchen doorway, weaving around the kitchen craziness. I’m equally relieved and panicked when I approach Jay’s office.
The door is wide open, and he’s sitting at his desk, thumbing through The Weekly.
My lungs contract, my mind telling my body to push the air in and out, in and out. I clear my throat, adjusting my purse on my shoulder. “Hey, Jay,” I say, fiddling with the lid of my coffee cup. I’m not sure what I expect. Maybe a ‘hey hon, how’ve you been?’ and that friendly smile of his, or maybe some typical questions about the trip.
I definitely don’t expect to see what I’m looking at right now.
Jay’s gaze lifts from the newspaper and lands on me, still with stunned wonder. His jaw is lightly slack and he swallows, eyes finally dropping to the Sorry Secrets column before him. They study the column for a moment, and each second is stretched out, never ending.
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