“That was nice of them.” He sets a paper crane on one of those large planters that hold small trees and people tend to sit on.
“They’re good people,” I say. I take a sip of my iced tea and look around for a place to lay a crane. I end up running into the parking lot and sticking one on a random car. Ryder and I continue through the strip-mall, now beneath a covered awning. The shade feels nice and is much needed. It’s hot enough to fry an egg out there. “What do you normally do on your off weekends?” I look up at him, waiting for his answer.
He shrugs. “Most of the time I just hang out at home—catch up on laundry, grade papers, that sort of thing. If I’m really feeling adventurous I might go see a movie. I love movie theater popcorn; the stuff you get at the store isn’t the same.” He smiles boyishly.
I laugh lightly. “That’s kind of boring.”
“Maybe so,” he says, “but I enjoy the peace and quiet of being at home.”
“So…” I begin and then pause, unsure if I should ask what I want, but I finally decide what the hell. “Have you dated any since…?”
“No.” He shakes his head adamantly. “I haven’t wanted to and I’ve been too busy with Cole, but I … I think I’m ready,” he admits. He looks me over, and even through his dark sunglasses the intensity in his stare burns.
Since I don’t know what to say, I end up exclaiming, “Ooh. Look. Bookstore!” It’s a horrible segue, and Ryder’s laughter tells me he knows so, but he’s nice enough not to comment.
He holds the door open for me and I step inside the cool shop. The air-conditioned air feels good to my heated skin. There’s already a slight sheen of sweat on my forehead from our trek outside.
I inhale the scent of books and I can’t help but smile.
The bell above the door jingles as Ryder comes in behind me. The store is small, but every surface is covered in books. I’ve never been in this particular store before. I usually order my books or get them from the local chain store, but the quirkiness of this place immediately speaks to my soul.
“You love popcorn,” I say to Ryder, “and I love books.”
He chuckles behind me and his fingers lightly graze my waist as he squeezes in beside me. “I do too. Mysteries are my favorite and the occasional thriller.” He removes his sunglasses now that we’re inside and hooks it onto the collar of his shirt. I take mine off too, but slide them into my hair.
“Romances,” I say, “especially historical romances.”
He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth and I know he’s fighting a grin. “Those books with the covers of the women with big boobs draped around some shirtless guy and they both look like they’re seconds away from having an orgasm?”
I snort. I hadn’t expected all of that. “Yep, those are the ones,” I say.
“And I’m sure they’re highly historically accurate?” He raises a brow, his eyes sparkling with laughter.
“Absolutely.” I fight a smile.
Is this flirting? Are we flirting? I’ve been out of the game so long that I have no clue. What I do know is, if we are I like it entirely too much.
“I have an idea,” Ryder begins, leaning his back against one of the many shelves and crossing his arms over his chest. “Why don’t you pick out a mystery for me and I’ll pick out a historical romance for you—and even if it’s one we’ve already read we have to get it and re-read it.”
My lips lift into a smile. “I like that idea. And—” I look around “—while we’re at it maybe we could slip some of these into the books?” I hold up my envelope of paper cranes.
“That’s a good idea,” he agrees and hedges toward the romance section. “Meet you at the checkout in fifteen minutes?”
I nod and he turns around fully, quickly disappearing amongst the shelves.
I find the mystery section and scan the titles. I want to pick out something he isn’t likely to have read, but it’s impossible to know. While I browse, I slip some paper cranes inside books and stick some others on the shelves.
I glance down at my phone and see that my time is almost up.
I end up closing my eyes and picking a book at random. It seems fitting considering they’re all mysteries. Armed with the book, I head to the checkout. Ryder is waiting, a black plastic bag hanging from his fingertips. He sports a wry grin and my heart pounds inside my chest.
“No peeking,” I tell him, using my back as a shield when I hand the clerk the book I chose.
Ryder turns away, playing along. I pay and accept my own black bag.
The two of us head back out into the blazing sun. We take a seat on one of the planters and swap bags.
“One, two, three,” Ryder counts and we both pull out our books.
I immediately burst into laughter at the one he chose for me. It’s called The Highlander’s Love Kilt. It features a shirtless man wearing a green kilt that’s blowing slightly in the wind. There’s a woman behind him with her arms wrapped around his neck, looking at him in adoration.
“You like it?” he asks with a pleased smile.
“It’s perfect,” I say and lean over to kiss his cheek.
The action comes so easily that I don’t even realize what I’ve done until I pull away.
Ryder’s mouth parts in shock and he looks at me with this stunned expression. Neither of us seeming to know what to do or say.
“I-I … Forget that happened,” I stutter, looking away.
His fingers brush my chin and he turns my head back to him, angling my face up to his. “I don’t want to,” he says, his eyes flicking down to my lips.
My heart jumps to my throat. The air grows thick between us and it’s not from the humidity. “Ryder—” I begin.
“Shh,” he murmurs, lowering his head toward mine. “Don’t think.” His breath brushes against my lips and then it’s his own lips I feel pillowed against mine. I freeze and my heart stutters in my chest. His hand cups my cheek, and when I don’t pull away, he deepens the kiss. I still don’t pull away. I don’t want to. I like the feel of his lips on mine. His tongue brushes my lips and my mouth parts for him. Electricity seems to spark beneath the surface of my skin. I kiss him back, pressing closer to his body. He groans lowly and my mouth swallows the sound. I’m pretty sure I whimper too. I’m so lost in the feel of him that my thoughts completely disappear. This isn’t something I imagined happening between us, but I don’t want to stop it, either. We break apart and we both swallow thickly. “Whoa,” he murmurs.
I look at him with wide eyes. I have no words. I liked that. Way more than I should have and that scares me. My hands shake and I look away. I feel dirty for enjoying kissing Ryder—for kissing anyone that’s not Ben. I shouldn’t have liked it, but I did. Oh, God, I did. I don’t know how to sort my racing thoughts and I jolt upright.
“I have to go.” My words slur together in my haste, and I nearly stumble over my own two feet as I try to get away.
“Blaire,” Ryder calls after me and starts to follow.
I turn around and hold up my hands. “No,” I say. “No.”
He pauses and hurt flashes in his eyes but he must see the pain in my eyes too because he doesn’t push. I turn and leave, the shattered pieces of my heart pulsing and aching in my chest, yearning for the man I leave behind me.
I arrive home and sit in my parked car for longer than necessary. I can’t seem to wrap my head around that kiss. My lips still tingle from the feel of Ryder’s. I want to hate the kiss, but I can’t. It doesn’t make it any easier to accept that I kissed a man that’s not Ben. My feelings for Ryder have been something I’ve downplayed not only to everyone else, but to myself as well. I didn’t want to believe that they were real or that they carried any weight. But what I feel for Ryder, it’s very real and it scares the crap out of me. I’ve been hurt so deeply by Ben’s death. I lost the love of my life—the man I thought would be the one I’d love until I died. I’m scared to love someone that much again and my brain screams that it’s too soon while my heart …
my heart just wants Ryder.
Tears pour from my eyes. I don’t know what to do.
Ben’s gone.
I’m pregnant.
And I might be falling for another man only six months after losing the one I believed to be my everything.
I’m a fucking mess.
And on top of my messed up love life, the bills are piling up—something I’ve pushed to farthest recesses of my mind. I could barely deal with everything else, let alone the reality that I need to sell my house too. The house I bought with Ben. The house we were going to raise our family in.
I lean my head back into the headrest and let out a groan, pent-up anger that needs to come out before I explode.
My life is a complete cluster-fuck at the moment and I really don’t need my feelings for Ryder complicating it at the moment.
My phone buzzes in my purse and I reach over and grab it.
Ryder: I’m not sorry for kissing you. Maybe I should be but I’m not. If you want an apology I won’t give it to you. You’re the first woman I’ve kissed in nearly two years. It meant something to me. You mean something to me.
I place the phone on the seat beside me and clutch the steering wheel. I need to hold on to something. My eyes close and I breathe out through my mouth.
My feelings are all over the place. I—
The baby kicks and my breath stutters.
I haven’t felt the baby kick before now. I’ve felt little flutters I thought might be something, but not this. Not a full-blown kick where it’s like the baby is saying hello. I press my hand to the spot, hoping to feel it again.
“Hi, Little Girl,” I say, my voice thick with tears. “Mommy loves you.” And I do, so much. Even if I feel like my life is falling apart around me, this baby is everything that I want. She’s keeping me going—keeping the hope alive. I rub my hand against my stomach, trying to coax her to kick again, but she doesn’t. It doesn’t matter, though. That one kick filled me with so much joy. The joy is fleeting, however, because like always the sadness soon accompanies it. The sadness that Ben’s not here to experience this.
He’s not here.
Our baby is growing inside me.
And I’m kissing someone else—and liking it.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I press the heels of my hands to my eyes. I can’t escape these complicated thoughts. Maybe I never will because there’s nothing easy about my situation.
Finally, I know I can’t sit in the car any longer.
I head inside and my mom’s working on a crochet project—she said she wanted to learn so she could make things for the baby—and my dad is parked in front of the TV per usual.
“Hey,” I say, trying to act normal.
“How’d it go?” my mom asks, lowering the … whatever it is she’s making. It looks like a knotted mess to me, but what do I know? “You’re back early.”
“It was fine,” I say, trying to sound normal. I fail. Epically. I can’t keep it together and I begin to cry.
“Oh, honey.” My mom cries and jumps up. She hurries over to me and pulls me into her warm, comforting arms. How I ever thought I didn’t need her here is beyond me. I do need her. Every single day—and selfishly, I don’t want them to go back to Florida, but I know they need to even if my mom still insists on looking into moving back here. “What happened?” she asks. “You’ll feel better if you talk about it.” She guides me to the couch in the front living area so we’re away from the raucous of the TV.
“H-He kissed me,” I admit, my lower lip trembling. “And I didn’t stop him. I liked it,” I confess on a whisper. I sink down on the couch and place my head in her lap. She runs her fingers through my hair. The gesture both comforting and familiar.
She’s quiet, and I know she’s thinking over what she wants to say. Finally, she speaks. “It’s okay that you liked it,” she whispers.
I shake my head in her lap, my tears soaking into her soft jeans. “But Ben—”
“Blaire,” she says sternly, “he’s gone. He’s not coming back. But you … You’re here. Living and breathing with a life. One you have to live. You’re allowed to move on. To love.”
“It feels wrong,” I reason.
“You can’t end your life because he’s gone, B. He wouldn’t want that for you, and I think on a deeper level you know that. Ben never held you back from your dreams or what you wanted while he was alive and he wouldn’t want to do it dead, either.” I swallow thickly at her words. She continues, “I’m not saying that you need to ride off into the sunset with Ryder. You still need time, I know that, but it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t give him a chance.”
I understand where she’s coming from, but it’s hard for me to let go. I think this small part of my brain still believes one morning I’m going to wake up beside Ben and all of this will have been a bad dream. What’s different now, though, when I have that thought is I automatically think of Ryder and how much I do care about him. I don’t want to live in a world where I don’t know him.
I’m torn between two men.
One a ghost, and one very real.
“I’m scared.
“I know you’re scared,” she says softly, still combing her fingers through my hair, “but don’t miss out on something great because of that. The greatest things in life are usually the scariest—but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t do them.”
I close my eyes, absorbing her words. “Are you saying I should go talk to him?”
She laughs. “I don’t know. That’s up to you. What does your heart say?”
“That I should go talk to him.” I laugh lightly. “I just ran away from him. I want him to know that I liked it, but I … I don’t know.”
“Then go.” She urges me up and I move to a sitting position.
“Right now? What if he’s not home?”
“Then wait for him,” she reasons.
I nod. “Okay, I will.”
I don’t hesitate. I know if I do I’ll talk myself out of it.
She smiles as I grab my purse again and leave. I know the way to his house now so I don’t take the time to enter it into the navigation system.
When I arrive at his house I’m surprised to find his car in the driveway. I honestly expected him to still be out.
I park, take a deep breath, and head to his front door before I can talk myself out of it.
I ring the doorbell and wait, nervously wringing my hands together. I’m afraid I’ve ruined things between us with my constant need to flee uncomfortable situations. I know that I have every right to be cautious and nervous when it comes to our relationship—I’ve suffered so much already—but that doesn’t mean Ryder has to deal with it.
I hear his footsteps on the other side and then the door swings open. “Blaire?” He gasps, clearly surprised to see me. “What are you doing here?”
“I … I …” I look around, feeling shaky. “Can I come in?” I finally ask.
“Sure.” He holds the door open wider and I step inside. He closes the door behind us and places his hand on the small of my back—not low enough to be suggestive but almost protectively—and leads me into an open family room.
It has high ceilings with wood beams crisscrossing it. The walls are painted a cheerful yellow—not school bus yellow—and the two couches are beige in color with yellow throw pillows. There’s a large, fluffy, white rug with several stains that look like they’re from markers. A TV resides above the fireplace and there are several photos of Cole and some with Cole and Ryder. I don’t see any photos of his wife, and I figure he’s packed them away.
I take a seat on the couch and he sits on the other one, purposely putting space between us, I’m sure.
I take a deep breath and smooth my hands down the front of my dress. I don’t know what to say, let alone where to begin. I let out the breath I’m holding and raise my eyes to his. His brown eyes reflect hurt and confusion.
“Ryder,” I breathe out his name and my voice cracks sligh
tly. “I feel so conflicted right now. I … I liked kissing you. I might’ve even loved it. I definitely kissed you back,” I say, not wanting him to think I blame him for the kiss. “But I’m dealing with so much right now. I lost the love of my life, I’m pregnant with his baby, I’m probably going to lose my house if I don’t move soon, and I … I have feelings for you. Strong feelings. But how soon is too soon to move on and let go? I don’t want to rush into anything. I want us to take our time, if that’s what you want, and just get to know each other. See where things go,” I explain. I sit against the pillows and wait for him to speak.
“I’m sorry if I’ve ever made you feel like I want to rush into something with you, that’s not the case at all. You’re the first woman I’ve felt a spark of anything with since Angela so maybe I was a little pushy—”
“No,” I interrupt him, “not at all. From the moment I met you I felt this … connection. Spark. Whatever you want to call it.” I probably sound cheesy as all get out, but it’s the truth.
“So I’m not the only one that felt it?” he asks with a small grin.
“No, definitely not.” I breathe out a sigh of relief.
He chuckles and claps his hands together, leaning forward. “I don’t know where we’ll go from here,” he says and my heart clenches, “but I do know I want us to see where it goes.” My heart releases and I exhale. “I’m here for you, Blaire. As a friend, whatever you need me to be.” He shrugs. “I want you to know you can come to me. The feelings of confliction you have about me, I have them too. Probably not as bad, but there is a part of me that feels like I might be trying to replace Angela. I know that isn’t the case, though. When I think of you, it’s you I see. Not a version of her.” He moistens his lips with his tongue. “I think it’s human nature to fear we’re replacing something with something else. We don’t like to let go of the past, so sometimes moving forward is a hard concept to grasp.”
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