What Love Looks Like
Page 20
And in that statement I found a glimmer of hope. If we loved each other, then we could work it out.
“But I don’t know, Elle. After what I went through with my ex, I can’t deal with any more lies.”
“I understand that. But at least give us one more chance. We were so good together, Ryan. I think you know that. And please, don’t hold what your ex did against me.”
We were only inches away from one another, face-to-face. Relieved to be with him, I nearly forgot it was Christmas Eve. I had to be back at my parents’ early the next day, and it was already nearly one o’clock in the morning. We were seated next to one another on the sofa, his arm outstretched along the top edge of the cushions, me seated near the gap between his arm and his torso.
“We were just getting started in this amazing relationship, and then . . .” he said solemnly.
“Give me one more chance.” The tears were now streaming down my cheeks. He gently wiped one, looking down, seemingly unable to make eye contact with me. We were getting closer and closer. “I’ll never take you for granted again. I’ll never keep anything from you, ever. I promise.”
He didn’t speak for several seconds. I wanted to throw all of the reasons we needed each other at him. I remained silent, though, allowing him to gather his thoughts. As desperately as I wanted him back, I knew in that moment that no matter what, I’d always be okay. I was strong, and I had a good support system. I knew now who I really was. And there was someone out there who would love me. I just wanted that someone to be the man sitting before me.
Finally, Ryan opened his mouth to speak. “Will you get two more stockings for you and Luna so we can have a real Christmas together?”
“Yes!” I said, leaning in and finally kissing him after weeks of longing for his lips. From there, we stretched out onto the sofa. The kissing carried on. I savored every breath, every touch; I’d never felt so satisfied.
“I missed you,” he whispered.
“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” I slowly unbuttoned his shirt as I grazed his neck with my lips.
We went up to his bedroom, where we rolled around laughing, kissing, and reminiscing about the good times. There were so many, which was why we lay awake nearly all night long. Every time I dozed off, I’d awaken in a euphoric state that I was in Ryan’s bed and in his arms, almost surprised that we were even together again. His body was warm and inviting, and he held on to me protectively, whispering, “I love you” every few hours. Hands down, it was the best Christmas I could ever remember.
23
Christmas morning was a white one, and I took advantage of sleeping in an extra hour since Luna wasn’t there to wake me. While I adored her typical routine of gently nudging me until I woke, it was nice to sleep in for a change. When my eyes finally opened, I became conscious of still being in Ryan’s arms. We made love, and I was convinced I was exactly where I was supposed to be that Christmas morning. Every year before, I’d spent the night at my parents’ house, but now I finally felt like a grown-up. I was in love, and I wanted everyone to know. I wasn’t screwing it up again.
As we made coffee, arguing over its strength—I liked a dark roast and he liked a light one—we giggled as if nothing had ever gone wrong. I was grateful for his forgiveness and vowed to make this relationship a priority and not to question it (or myself) ever again. For the first time in my life, I felt like a winner, not a loser, and like a woman instead of a girl. I felt as if I were part of something big, powerful, and divine.
Ryan was thrilled at the invitation to come to my parents’ house with me. I texted Emily that I’d be a little late but that everything was fine, and that Max shouldn’t worry—his car was in one piece. I also asked her to please tell our mother to set an extra place, to which she replied with a smiling emoticon. I didn’t have clothes with me, so I fashioned a dress from one of Ryan’s white dress shirts and a belt over my slender black trousers. It actually looked decent, and he thought it was sexy, so I rocked it.
“When do you go back to work?” I asked him as we drove.
“Tomorrow.”
“Of course,” I said with a sigh. “They work us to the bone.”
“If you hate it so much, quit. You should seriously consider quitting to start your own business.” He was making it sound a lot easier than it was.
“I wish. I have to sign a new lease on my apartment next month, and the rent’s going up. I can’t afford to take a hit.”
“So move,” he said casually.
“Where to? Anywhere I go will be the same price for a worse location.”
“Move in with me.” He said it almost as though he was joking, but I sensed that he was serious.
“What? Are you crazy?”
“What’s so crazy about that? If things go back to how they were, you’ll just spend half your time at my place anyway. And why pay for two places when we spend all our time at the condo? We can pool our resources. Plus, the dogs love each other, and Woody won’t have to stay at the kennel anymore. It makes perfect sense. If it doesn’t work out, you’re not signing a lease, so it’s no big deal.” He had positioned it as ideal living situation, omitting all the problems: we’d really only dated for five or six months, had a disastrous breakup, and had reunited less than twelve hours earlier.
“I’ll think about it.” I smiled and looked at him from the corner of my eye. He was smiling too.
We pulled up to my parents’ house and walked up to the front door. Luna was pawing through the glass trying to get to us, and I noticed the mistletoe that mother had hung on the doorframe. I nodded up to it, and Ryan picked up on my suggestion, leaned in, and gave me an innocent kiss.
“Have you thought about it yet?” he asked.
I laughed, walked through the door, and was instantly met with the smell of coffee and my mother’s famous Italian cookies. Then, with Ryan’s hand in mine, I heard the rest of my loved ones laughing and opening presents in the next room. It was bliss to all of my senses.
EPILOUGE
Luna and I officially moved in with Ryan and Woody on the first day of February. I felt the cycle of my life renew itself again, but this time it wasn’t challenging or difficult. It was consistent with what I wanted, and it came with a sense of optimism and productivity. I submitted my resignation notice at work immediately after the holidays, and with Ryan’s support, built the foundations of my new event production company. Though I was heartbroken to leave Maureen, I couldn’t wait for my next chapter to begin.
Come Valentine’s Day, I was up and running. My first big event was one I agreed to put on for practically nothing, just to get my name out there. It was a charity event for Hearts for Hounds, a non-profit for rescue group dogs. Ryan attended for moral support, along with my parents, who made a sizeable donation to the cause, and my brother and sister with their significant others in tow. It was incredible to have such unconditionally wonderful people in my corner. Even Maureen and Jenna showed up, and Erica and Stacey sent me a bouquet of white roses wishing me good luck. I’d never felt more energized. Contrary to what I’d expected, the older I got, the better my life got.
The event was a huge success, and it was the first one for my portfolio as I moved forward in my career. By the end of the night, Ryan and I were alone again. He stuck around and helped me clean up after the guests had left and loaded the flowers in my car so I could donate them the next day. I turned around to collect the last arrangement of pink peonies and found Ryan down on one knee. Before I could piece together what was happening, he extracted a tiny blue box from his pocket. He opened it, and I saw a radiant oval diamond through my misty, teary eyes. It was a bitterly cold February day; no more than ten degrees outside, but my heart was on fire.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Lara Mondoux resides in Cleveland, Ohio with her husband and two adorable dogs. Prior to writing women’s fiction, she conducted nearly a decade of research on love and relationships at the esteemed University of Lara Mondoux. Lara en
joys travel, art, shopping, spending time with her loved ones, and of course reading and writing. Her novel, What Love Looks Like, is the first of many more to come.
Web: www.laramondoux.com
Twitter: @LaraMondoux
Table of Contents
Copyright
DEDICATION
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
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EPILOUGE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR