by E. K. Blair
"Come in," I say. When the door opens, Ryan walks in and leans up against the sink right next to me. I look over at him while I'm swiping on some lip-gloss and start putting everything away. He watches me as I pack my things up, and when I pass him, he takes me by the waist and pulls me in.
"What's wrong?" he asks.
"Nothing. Really."
Cocking his head slightly to the side, he says, "You wanna get out of here for a while?"
Without thinking too much, I nod my head.
He takes my hand, but this time it's different. He laces his fingers through mine and leads me downstairs. Everyone is moving about, eating breakfast, and tending to all the kids. He walks us into the formal dining room where his mother and cousins are sitting. I see Donna's eyes go straight to our hands, and I quickly try to pull my hand away, but he grips me tighter.
"Good morning, Candace," she says as she stands up and gives me a hug. "How did you sleep last night?"
"Good, thank you."
"Hey, Mom, we're going to go to Indian Beach for a while," Ryan tells her.
"Oh, okay. Well, the girls and I are heading to Astoria for the day to do some shopping, so we won't be around. But the guys are going to stay here with all the kids."
"What are the plans for dinner tonight?"
"The kids really want Fultano's Pizza," she says.
"Text me when you're driving back, and we'll go pick it up," Ryan tells her.
"Thanks, dear." She leans in and kisses him on the cheek. "You guys have a good day."
We head out to the jeep and start driving towards Ecola Park to the beach. The drive is quiet as we weave through the lush trees on the narrow, winding road. The surroundings are absolutely stunning, considering the dark grey skies and rainy weather. When we make our way out of the canopy of trees, Ryan parks the jeep, reaches into the back seat, and grabs me a hooded raincoat.
"Here, wear this," he says as I take the coat from him.
When we get out of the jeep, I shrug on the huge coat and pull the hood over my head. The wind off the water is strong, and the chill is biting. He takes my hand again and starts walking us down the wooden stairs to the wet puddled sand and rocks. This place is beautiful in a dark and moody way. We are the only ones on the beach aside from a few surfers in wetsuits out in the water. I follow Ryan and we walk along the uneven stacks of black rocks toward a few logs of driftwood. We sit on one of the logs, and he wraps his arm around me as I shiver in the rainy cold. The view of the deep cliffs around us and the sea stacks in the water are awesome.
"This is amazing," I say.
"Yeah, I love it out here. I used to surf here a lot growing up."
I nod my head, remembering the surfboards in his bedroom.
"Candace," he says as he turns his focus on me. Looking into my eyes, he asks, "What's bothering you? And don't say nothing, because I know something is."
Looking away, back at the water, I try to find my words. If I don't talk to him, then the awkwardness will just continue. But, what do I say? There are a million things racing through my head, and I am finding it hard to hone in on just one. And what if he thinks I'm crazy for reading too much into a kiss that was probably something so casual to him?
"Candace," he says, and I turn to look back at him.
I let out a breath before admitting, "I just don't really know what we're doing." It's all I can say.
Shifting his one leg over the log, he turns to face me straight on. "Tell me what you want."
What? Why can't he just tell me what he wants?
Not wanting to look at him, I stare out into the water again when I confess, "I'm not good at this stuff, Ryan."
"Come here," he says as he tugs on my leg, and I shift my body slightly to face him. "I've wanted to kiss you since the night of the concert. I don't know where your head is at, but whenever I'm not with you, I want to be."
My heart begins to race as he says this to me. It's what I was hoping to hear, but also what I was scared to hear.
When I drop my head, he says, "Talk to me, babe."
"I just...I don't do this well."
"Do what?"
"This..." I stop talking when he cradles my face in his hands and moves me so that I'm looking at him.
"Whatever this is, I want it. I just need to know if you do." His eyes are serious, and he never takes them off of me as he speaks. It's intimidating and makes me anxious. Hearing him speak so honestly makes my stomach flutter. I'm scared. I'm happy. I'm all over the place when I finally look up at him. And with trepidation, I nod my head yes.
A smile breaks across his face as he pulls me in and kisses me. I wrap my arms around him, underneath his coat as his cold, rain soaked lips cover mine. He draws me in tight, and I melt into him. Pushing my fears aside, I focus solely on him. His hold on me is strong, which contrasts his gentle kisses. He's in no rush as he takes his time, dragging his tongue across my lip and slipping it inside my mouth. When our tongues slide across each other, I tighten my grip on him. His lips are soft, and I can taste a hint of mint on him. He holds my head and guides me with him as we move with one another. I've never been kissed the way Ryan kisses me. He's slow and deliberate, and I can feel that it's more than just a kiss to him, which settles me because it's more than that for me too.
His hands still on my cheeks, he breaks our kiss, and I stare up into his eyes when he says, "Should we get out of here?"
"Let's stay." I'm in no hurry to go back to his house, and I don't want this moment to end just yet.
"Come here." He pulls me onto his lap, and I hook my arms around his neck. He is much larger than I am, so I fit perfectly in his hold.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Anything," he says as he turns his head to look at me.
"I never asked before because I didn't want to intrude, but...where is your father?"
He lets out a slow breath and shifts his focus out to the beach. "He died about ten years ago." He turns to face me again, and I feel awful for asking.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked," I say when I drop my head, feeling bad for bringing it up.
Lifting my chin to look up at him, he says, "Candace, you can ask me anything. I don't want you to feel like you can't, okay?"
"Yeah," I quietly sigh and turn my head away from him, still feeling like I shouldn't have asked him that.
After a moment he begins to speak. "My dad was an asshole." When I look at him, he continues, "He drank way too much and was never around, but when he was, he was a total dick. So, don't feel bad for asking, because I don't feel bad that he's dead."
His voice is hard when he speaks, and I have no idea how to respond to his harsh words. I want to know more, but I don't dare ask. Whatever is underneath this is something that seems painful, so I let it go.
I look up at the cliff that is behind us and notice a roped off ledge. "Is there a trail up there?"
Turning his head to see what I'm looking at, he says, "Yeah, it's a pretty decent path if you want to go up there."
Needing to cut this intensity, I say, "Yeah, let's go."
He eyes my leopard rain boots and asks, "Those have enough traction?"
"We'll see." I giggle and hop off of his lap and grab his hands to pull him off the log.
He smiles at my laugh and leans down to give me a chaste kiss before bending down and grabbing me behind my knees, scooping me up over his shoulder. I squeal as he starts hauling me up the stairs while I hang upside down. I don't even think to tell him to put me down because I love this feeling of playfulness. I honestly can't remember the last time I have felt like this; I don't think I ever have.
We hike along the path and explore the area for a couple hours. I was apprehensive about coming on this trip with him, but I'm so glad I did. My discomfort has dissipated, and it feels like it always has with us—light and easy.
We start walking back to the jeep, thoroughly wet and windblown.
"You up for shopping?" he asks me with a smirk.
<
br /> "Shopping?"
"Yeah, everyone is leaving tonight, so I need to get the kids hopped up on sugar before they go," he jokes. Opening my door, he helps me up into my seat before walking around to the other side. When he gets in, I ask, "Where are we going?"
"Seaside. There's a cool candy shop called The Buzz."
I laugh at his excitement. "Your cousins are going to hate you, you know?"
"I'm their uncle, it's my job to spoil the shit out of those kids to spite their parents."
He makes me laugh, but his love for his nieces and nephews is apparent. I get the feeling that is how they all are with each other. It feels so abnormal to be around them, but I know it's because I've never had that in my life. It's always just been me and my parents, and there was never any warmth between us.
Ryan reaches over, laces his fingers with mine, and holds my hand. I smile when I look over at him. I sit back, with our hands connected, and enjoy his quiet company as we drive.
Pulling onto the Broadway Strip of Seaside, there are throngs of people walking on the sidewalks, going in and out of the shops that line the street. When we find a parking spot, we walk to the candy shop. He leads me to the back of the store, and when I see what he is eying, I start laughing and say, "You cannot let those kids eat this stuff!"
"Watch me," he says with a devious smile.
I just stand there next to him, shaking my head as he tells the sales clerk to bag up chocolate-covered and peanut butter-covered Twinkies, chocolate covered bacon, and a chunk of peanut butter foam rock.
Looking over at me as he pays for the diabetic-coma-in-a-bag, he innocently says, "What?" as if he doesn't understand the absurdness of his purchase.
"Nothing," I say in a high-pitched mock defensive tone.
After grabbing lunch, we continue to shop around before deciding to head back. The rain has been constant all day, and we are both in desperate need of clean, dry clothes, especially since we decided to hike in the mud earlier.
Ryan's mom calls to let us know that they are on their way back to the house, so we stop by Fultano's to pick up a few pizzas for an early dinner before everyone leaves.
We arrive home before his mother and aunts do, so Ryan stashes the pizzas in the oven and offers to take the older kids upstairs to play to give their dads a little break. There is a large playroom that he takes the three kids into and has me shut the door behind them.
"Can you guys keep a secret?" he asks them.
Madison, Bailey, and Connor, his four year-old nephew, all say 'yes' in excited unison when Ryan pulls out the bag of sugary junk. I sit back on one of the couches in the room and laugh as Ryan and the kids dive into everything. Watching how he is with these kids, laughing and playing on the floor, is another reason for me to like him even more. I know he owns a successful business and works hard, but it's nice that he has this lighthearted side to him as well.
Ryan comes over to sit next to me with one of the pieces of chocolate covered bacon.
"Here," he says as he tries to hand it to me.
Pushing his hand away, I say, "Gross. I'm not eating that."
"It's surprisingly really good." He takes a bite out of it and holds the leftover piece to my mouth. "Just try it," he says, and I open my mouth and bite it out of his grip.
I'm amazed that it is actually good. The salt and smoke of the bacon blends well with the sweetness of the chocolate.
"Okay, you win. That was actually really good," I admit.
Ryan looks out the window that's over my shoulder then back to the kids.
"Guys, eat fast. Our mom's just pulled up."
The three of them giggle as they try desperately to scarf down the rest of the sweets. Ryan and I laugh while watching them in their simplicity of fun. We get up, and Ryan wads up all the wrappers.
Holding out my hands, I say, "Give them to me. I'll hide them."
The kids run downstairs and Ryan hands over the wrappers as I walk to his room. He follows me in and closes the door behind us. I walk into the bathroom and toss everything in the trashcan. When I walk out, Ryan is sitting on the edge of the bed.
"Come over here," he says.
Walking over to him, he pulls me between his legs and slides his arms around my waist. Because of our height difference, we are almost level. Looking at me, he says, "I'm glad you're here with me."
I smile at him with my hands gripped on his shoulders. "Me too."
Placing his hand behind my neck, he draws me in so he can kiss me. He keeps the kiss short then pulls me down to sit on his knee. The room is dark as we stare at each other with our foreheads resting together. Being like this with him, in this quiet room, is peaceful. Neither one of us speaks as we sit here together.
"We should go downstairs," I whisper.
Whispering back, he says, "Not yet."
We stay like this, me on his knee, foreheads together, when Connor comes bursting through the door.
"Busted!" he shouts.
I jump up, and Ryan turns to him. "What do you mean?"
"Bailey had chocolate on her face and Mom is blaming you."
"Okay, kid, let's go face the firing squad."
When Connor starts running back downstairs, Ryan and I follow.
"What did you feed these kids?" Tori asks Ryan.
"I'll never tell, and neither will they," he jokes as the kids start laughing uncontrollably. "Call it a going-home present," he says with a wink.
"Payback's a bitch. Just remember that, Ryan. One of these days, when you have kids, you'll see."
Ryan laughs at her, and I try to stifle my laugh as well. Watching their playful banter is pretty funny.
The house is quiet and still. Everyone left about an hour ago, and I have been curled up on the couch, reading one of my favorite childhood books I found on the bookshelf, since I got out of the shower. Ryan is upstairs, getting cleaned up, while I drink a cup of hot tea and read as the rain trickles down the large windows that look out to the beach.
"Where's Ryan?" Donna asks as she walks into the room.
"He's taking a shower."
She grabs a couple blankets and joins me on the couch. "Here, cover up. It's cold."
Draping the blanket across my lap, I set the book down and say, "Thanks."
She wraps up in her blanket and asks, "How are you doing, dear?"
"Good actually. I'm sorry I wasn't around much to visit with everyone. I hope no one thought I was being rude."
"No one thought that. Please, no need to apologize."
"It's just...I'm not used to being around a large group. It's a little overwhelming for me."
"You don't need to explain. Everyone loves you. It was a nice surprise to have you, and Ryan seems really happy."
"Oh," I say, not sure how to respond to her statement.
"Ryan said he went to meet your parents on Christmas Eve. I've been so busy, I haven't had a chance to ask him about it. How did it go?" she questions.
Looking down at my tea, I shake my head. "Not well."
She reaches over and places her hand on my knee. "What happened?"
I sit there, trying to figure out where I should begin. I've been so busy the past few days that I haven't had much time to think about our fight. Now that I am searching for the words, the finality of our fight plays back in my head. I swallow hard against the lump in my throat, and when I open my mouth to speak, I can't seem to get anything out. I close my mouth and stare into Ryan's mother's eyes.
"Oh, sweetie," is all she says when she scoots closer and wraps me in her arms.
How is it that this woman I just met yesterday seems to read me better than my own mother? Why can't my mother just love me? Why has she never loved me? My thoughts become too much, and I begin to weep quietly as Donna rubs my back. My mother has never comforted me like this, not even when I was a little girl. When I was younger, it was always the nanny who would lie with me when I got sick, or put Band-Aids on my knees when I would fall off my bike. Why couldn't I have had
a loving family like Ryan's?
"Do you want to tell me about what happened?" she asks as she pulls away.
Wiping my tears, I decide to open up to her. "We got in a bad fight. It wasn't good. They told me they were done with me and not to come back."
"My God," she says quietly in shock.
"What's worse is that Ryan heard it all."
"Ryan would never judge you for that."
"I hope not, but it was embarrassing nonetheless."
"What were you arguing about?" she asks.
"The same thing we always fight about. They aren't happy with my choices. I'm not good enough. I don't measure up to the name they work hard for." Donna leans over to the end table and hands me a box of tissues. I pull one out and wipe the tears from my cheeks. "It's always been this way, but then at Thanksgiving my mother told me that I was nothing but an embarrassment to her."
"I'm so sorry, dear. No child should ever have to hear that."
"Hear what?" Ryan questions, and when I look up, I see him walking down the stairs. He crosses the room and comes to sit next to me on the couch as I face his mother. I try not to look at him as he wraps one of his arms around me.
"Candace is telling me about what happened the other night."
"Mom."
"It's fine," I say.
Covering my hand with hers, she asks, "Do you have any other family at all?"
"No. It's only ever been the three of us since my father's parents' passed away."
"What about your mother's family?"
"I've never met them. I have never known them to speak. I'm not even sure they know about me." Wiping my cheeks again, Ryan rests his other hand on my leg. He doesn't say anything, he just sits there, letting his mom and I talk.
She shakes her head as if she can't believe what I am saying. Leaning forward, she takes me in her arms again. The comfort I am getting, being held by both Ryan and his mother is almost too much for me, but I know this is what I've been missing my whole life. I wrap my arms around Donna as more tears fall.
Letting go of me, she says, "I'm glad you're here with us," as she brushes her thumbs under my eyes. "I'll let the two of you be," she says to Ryan then kisses my forehead. When she leaves the room, Ryan pulls me back onto his chest.
