She repeated those sayings over and over to herself as she walked back out front, stopping short when she saw Ridge leaning on the front counter, chatting with Greer. Two coffees in to-go cups sat in front of him. Greer was practically bouncing off her feet in excitement, barely able to contain herself from shouting the walls down with her obvious happiness that she was having coffee with Ridge.
"Hi," she said, approaching him from behind. He faced her and she was met with the full force of his dark-eyed stare. He smelled so good, his scent finding her nostrils. He was wearing a fitted black t-shirt and jeans, no jacket since the day was quite warm. She once again noticed the tattoo on his neck and had a brief moment of wondering how far down his body it went. Her face burned red at that thought, and she quickly looked at her feet, hoping he wouldn't notice her embarrassment and question its cause.
"Hi, yourself. You ready?" he asked, using his finger to tilt her chin back up until their eyes met again.
Greer's sigh probably could have been heard in the next state and Maisie shot her a glare, hoping she would shut up.
"Ready? Are we going somewhere?"
"We are. You look nice, by the way," he complimented her and again she blushed. She was dressed simply as well in just a pink t-shirt and jeans. She hadn't thought to dress up since they were just having coffee. Or so she thought.
"Thank you. Um, I guess I'm ready?"
"Great. Let's go." He handed her one of the coffees and motioned for her to walk ahead of him. "See you around, Greer," he called over his shoulder. Maisie waved at her and tried to ignore the victory dance she was doing that then turned into hip thrusts as the two left the coffee shop. That girl was crazy.
Once out on the street, she looked up at him. "Where are we going?" she asked as he started walking.
"The art gallery," he answered, not offering any more information.
She frowned. "What? The art gallery? Why?"
"I've never been to one before, and I thought, who better to show me around one than you. Plus, it will give us a chance to get an update on your submission for the showcase," he explained.
"But...they said there would be a call. I don't really think I should bother them." Panic started to rise, she couldn't bother them about her submission, what if they got angry and just decided on the spot that she was out?
"Maisie. If there's one thing I've learned in life, its that you've got to fight for what you want. To be assertive and show how much you want it. We aren't going to badger them, we're just going to inquire...let them know that you're willing to go the extra mile to make sure you get into their show."
She pondered his words for a few minutes. Maybe it couldn't hurt to just ask if there was an update. If they worded it the right way, it might actually not be a bad idea. They entered the gallery, and before she could protest, he paid the fee for their day passes.
"I could have got mine, you didn't have to pay for me," she told him.
"It's my pleasure. Plus, it was my idea, and since you're going to be acting as my tour guide, its the least I could do," he replied with a wink.
Maisie blushed again. He really was gorgeous, and charming, and gorgeous. She was becoming flustered and walked a few paces ahead in an attempt to get ahold of herself. Shaking her head, she berated herself for acting like a silly school girl.
Showing Ridge around the gallery proved to be the most fun she'd had in a long time. He had a hilarious outlook on contemporary art, many of the abstract pieces he thought looked like funny farm animals. Her favorite was the reflection painting of a vase that he thought looked like how he might see things after a few too many beers. She hadn't laughed so much in, well she really had no idea when the last time was. When she seriously liked a piece, he listened intently to her reasons why and even offered his own opinions. It was refreshing and completely new territory to have someone show such an active interest in her passion.
He touched her often, little brushes on her shoulder, a hand on the small of her back, pushing her hair out of her face when she tried to read the information booklet. He was always gentle and after the first few times, she stopped jumping. She could feel something growing for him, and if she was honest, the fact was that she'd been falling for him for weeks. Their afternoon together just cemented those feelings. She wanted to explore things further, to see what they could be. Not brave enough to voice her thoughts, she instead turned her attention back to just enjoying the time with him; no stress on saying the wrong thing or if she was going to receive backlash if she didn't do things right. Enjoying life without guilt sucking her down was liberating. She never wanted the feeling to end.
He must have been feeling the same way, as when they came to a private room set up with sculptures, he took her hand and drew her close to him. He bent his head and claimed her mouth in a kiss unlike the first one they'd shared. This one was soft and gentle, a slow way of making love to her mouth when her lips parted and he gained access to her mouth. He tasted like hope, love, and inspiration. His touch was freedom and possession all rolled into one. In that moment he was truly and explicitly, hers.
He broke off after a few minutes and looked deep into her eyes. "Sorry, been thinking about that all day and couldn't take it anymore," he admitted.
She offered a shy smile and stepping off the ledge into the unknown, slipped her free hand into his, interlocking their fingers. They walked hand in hand back to the front desk where Ridge asked to speak to someone about the upcoming showcase. A middle-aged man appeared from around the corner, introducing himself as the show's coordinator, Mr. Springer.
"Nice to meet you," Ridge said. "This is Maisie Pierce. She submitted a painting for your local artist showcase, and since we were in the area, we thought we'd inquire to see if you've made your selections yet." Ridge was so smooth; he definitely knew how to ask in a professional way that didn't sound like badgering.
"Well, how wonderful. Our assistant was making the calls today to our selected candidates, actually. Let me just check our list. Wait here, please," he said and disappeared. Nerves licked along her skin as they waited, and she tried to remember what her mom had said. If it didn't happen this time, that didn't mean that it would never happen. The important thing was to not get discourage and to not give up.
Mr. Springer came back all smiles and hope leaped inside her. "Congratulations, Ms. Pierce. You are one of our selected candidates! You should be receiving a call later today with all the details."
Ridge let out a whoop and scooped her into his arms, swinging her around. She laughed and grinned at him when he set her back down.
"Thank you so much, Mr. Springer. I don't even know what to say. I'm completely humbled and honored for the opportunity," she said sincerely.
"It's our pleasure. Have a wonderful day," he told them as they headed out the main doors.
Ridge took her hand again and together they started the walk back to their cars at Coffee Time. "I'm proud of you, Maisie and I know your mom would be too."
She nodded, the emotion too thick to trust her voice. He was right though; her mom would be proud. She probably had a hand in making this happen for her, a little luck and magic from wherever she was now. With her dreams starting to come true, she smiled up at Ridge. Maybe a person really did need to battle the dark waters in order to swim into the sunlight. She was just glad she was finally getting her chance to tread the waters.
The day of the showcase, Maisie was having lunch with her dad and Blake in an effort to pass the hours until the show quickly. She'd been a bundle of nerves since learning that she'd be featured. While she was excited to be chosen, the fear of sharing her work with the world was holding her back from truly being happy for herself and her accomplishment. While she knew her work wouldn't be for everyone and she'd have to accept some criticism, she was terrified of what it might do to her self-esteem.
She voiced her concerns to her dad, who sought to reassure her. "Maisie, sharing anything with the public can be a frightening thing. The f
act that you're willing to try just shows your courage, shows how far you've come in life and that you're not afraid to push for the things you really want. You're going to be fine, and they're not only going to love your work, they're going to love you."
Her dad had always been the sensible one, offering the insight she needed to find that bravery, and not be the scared little girl begging for love, attention and affection from Allison.
"Thanks, Dad. I'm so glad you're going to be there. I just wish Mom was too," she said quietly. She didn't want to make him sad, but it was the truth and she wanted him to know how much she was missing her.
"She will be, sprog. She'll be there in spirit, just like she always will be." He gripped her hand and then stood to make a fresh cup of tea. Maisie knew it was hard on him to talk about her and felt guilty for bringing her up.
"Well, I, for one, can't wait! And to see you in that sparkly red dress! Speaking of, we better finish up here so I can get started on your hair and make-up. Prepare to be glamified," Blake teased.
Blake had dragged her around the mall for hours as they searched for the perfect dress for her to wear to the showcase and just when it looked like they were never going to find anything suitable, Maisie spotted the red number in the window at Macy's. It came to just above the knee and had a sweetheart neckline. The soft red material was infused with light silver threads that in the bright lights of the gallery would look like sparkles. She was so excited that they had one in her size and couldn't wait for Ridge to see her in it. Blake had bought a new dress as well, a hot black little bit of a dress that was sure to get her a lot of male attention. That could either be a good or bad thing for her budding relationship with Ramsey, depending on if he was the jealous type. The two weren't an official couple, but Blake had told her that neither was seeing anyone else.
Whisking her upstairs to get ready, Blake worked fast and in just a few short hours, she had been waxed, primped, hair was curled into loose waves and expert make-up was applied. Looking in the mirror, she truly felt beautiful. Her dad appeared in the mirror behind her and held out his hand, opening his palm. A pair of diamond earrings that she recognized as her mother's shone in his hand.
"You should wear these tonight. She would like that." Was all he said, placing the earrings in her hand and closing her fist around them. He left without another word and Maisie was so touched, that tears pricked the back of her eyes.
"No. No, Maisie, don't you dare cry. You'll ruin my handiwork," Blake warned. Taking several deep breaths, she got herself under control. "You look gorgeous." Her sister beamed at her.
"Well I have you to thank for that, and I mean that, truly, thank you for all of this, Blake." She left the bathroom to change into her dress in the spare room. Once it was on, she looked in the mirror and smiled. She was almost ready. All she needed was her... "Dammit," she said out loud.
"What's wrong?" Blake called from the other room.
"My shoes are at your place! All I've got here is sneakers."
Blake appeared in the doorway still in her pajamas and a mascara wand in her hand. "Shoot, I don't even have any extras here, I only have mine."
"It's okay, we still have time. I'm going to run and grab them now and will just meet you guys there instead of us driving together. Sound good?" Maisie said.
"Perfect. And damn, girl! You clean up nice. That dress was made for you. Ridge is gonna lose it," she replied with a wink.
"Oh, stop," Maisie laughed. She kissed her sister on the cheek and then rushed down the stairs and out the door, eager to grab her shoes and get to the gallery. She still couldn't believe that it was all coming together for her. Her and Ridge had talked everyday since their first "date" and had even taken Chance for several walks in the park, him being patient while she photographed things that caught her attention. They'd kissed again, several times, but hadn't taken it farther than that. She could tell her wanted to, but was holding back, likely out of worry for her feelings. Maybe, tonight after the show, she'd be brave enough to suggest they go back to his place. The thought caused her thighs to clench together as she imagined what it would be like to be with a man like Ridge. To be with someone that actually cared about her.
Walking into Blake's apartment, the high she was riding on was a feeling unlike no other. To think that she could have been this happy so long ago made her question her own sanity about why she waited to long to truly make the effort to go after the things she wanted. Regardless of the why and how she waited, she was making it happen now.
Smiling, she grabbed her shoes from the closet and headed back down the short hallway to the front door, pausing when she thought she heard a noise. Glancing towards the kitchen, her jaw dropped and her blood froze in her veins when Brant stepped out from the shadows.
His clothes were wrinkled, his hair was starting to grow in, a change from his usual buzz cut. His eyes were bloodshot and she could smell the alcohol even from being almost ten feet away.
"Wh—what are you doing here, Brant?" she asked, slick fear sliding across her skin. Her purse with her phone was in the car. The landline was in the kitchen. Behind him. The door was between them. He was drunk, if she ran, she might make it before he caught her. She had to time it right, it was her only chance.
"Fucking bitch wants to know what I'm doing here. Like I need an excuse to see my woman," he sneered.
"Why don't we just sit down and talk? I bet you're hungry, I can make us something to eat and—"
"Just shut the fuck up!" he roared, charging towards her. This was it, if she was going to try for the door, it had to be now. She took off in a sprint, ducking under his arm when he grabbed for her. She reached the door and in her terror, fumbled with the handle. Just as she was turning it, he was on her, grabbing her by the back of the dress and yanking. The fabric ripped easily in two as she was launched across the room, colliding hard with the corner of the coffee table.
"Brant, please, please don't do this. Just stop, we can talk—" her words were drowned out when his fist connected with her mouth, splitting her lip open. Blood filled her mouth and she had the horrible thought that he might have knocked her teeth loose. Before she could worry about that any further, he was kicking her in the stomach over and over. In her daze she started counting the kicks, and she rolled and tried to scramble away, only for his fingers to dig painfully into her shoulder as he dragged her back. She watched in dismay as one of her mother's diamond earrings flew off and rolled across the floor. She tried to crawl to retrieve it, but didn't get very far due to Brant not letting up on his relentless kicking. She eventually gave up and lost count after twenty kicks.
"Think you can leave me. You. Aren't. Worth. Shit." he seethed as he continued his assault. The excruciating pain was causing nausea to rise up her throat and she knew she was close to passing out. Looking up into Brant's face that was contorted in rage, all she could do was pray that he didn't kill her.
The steady sound of beeping woke Maisie from what she thought was a deep sleep. Groaning, she tried to move and found that her entire body ached. She opened her eyes slowly and looked around, not recognizing her surroundings at first. Her dad was sitting in a chair to her right, his head thrown back as he lightly snored. Blinking a few more times, she realized she was in the hospital. Memory washed over her and it all came flooding back. The shoes. The showcase. Brant. Feeling panic rise, she tried to look at her watch, but it wasn't there. Did she still have time to make it to the show? Would they be angry if she was late? Despair filled her as she realized she likely missed the show if she was in the hospital. Deep choking sobs ripped from her, startling her dad awake.
"Maisie, are you in pain? Let me get the nurse," he said, jumping up from the chair. He left before she could explain the reason for her tears and when he came back, Blake and Ridge were right on his heels. "The doctor is coming in," he told her.
Maisie nodded and then closed her eyes, not wanting to see the looks of pity from her family and Ridge. The familiar feeling of s
hame was back, she felt unclean, filthy even. They shouldn't have to look at her in her current state. No one should. She needed to hide, hide the pain, the devastation, the despair.
The door opened and a young woman came in, carrying a clipboard. "Hello, I'm Dr. Westbrook. How are you feeling, Maisie?" she asked.
"I'm a little sore, a little confused," she admitted, not meeting anyone's eyes.
"I can understand that. Let me see if I can fill in some gaps for you, if I may?" she looked at Maisie's father for approval, who nodded.
"Police responded to a 911 call at your sister's residence where they found you, badly beaten and unconscious. The place had been thoroughly destroyed, so the speculation is that you interrupted a robber when you entered the premises. As far as your injuries go, you have a few cracked ribs and some scrapes and bruises, nothing that should take too long to heal. The reason you're still here, is the fact that you suffered a miscarriage," Dr. Westbrook explained.
Silence. Dead silence filled the room as Maisie stared at the doctor in shock. "I—I was pregnant?"
"Yes. Not very far along, we estimate about eight weeks. You didn't know?"
She shook her head. Her mind spinning, she thought back to the night with Brant when he'd come home drunk. Dear God. Pregnant. And now, because of him, she'd lost her child.
"Maisie. Did you see who did this to you?" Dr. Westbrook asked. Maisie was silent for a long time, not sure how to answer. If she told the truth now, Brant would be arrested for assault and likely some other charges seeing how she'd lost a child. Thus ruining his life forever. But if she stayed silent, it left the door open for him to do it again and again. Conflicted, she began to cry, sobs wracking her body.
"It was Brant." Blake took the choice away from her and told the room the truth. "He's done this before; she just has been too scared to come forward. She thought it was better to protect that fucking bastard."
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