Love Found in California (The Washington Triplets)

by Rolka, Melissa

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Epilogue: One Month Later

  The Washington Triplets

  Love Discovered in New York

  Love Grows in Alaska

  Thankfulness

  About the Author

  More Books by Melissa Rolka

  LOVE FOUND IN CALIFORNIA

  Copyright ©2014 by Melissa Rolka

  All Rights Reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in whole or in part by any means.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events portrayed in this book are the product of the author’s imagination or are either fictitious or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Interior design and formatting: Perfectly Publishable (www.perfectlypublishable.com)

  Editing: Perfectly Publishable (www.perfectlypublishable.com)

  Cover Design: Cover Me, Darling (www.covermedarling.com)

  Photo Credit: Photography Shutterstock

  To my closest girlfriends, who at times have felt like sisters to me. We’ve all had dark moments we felt we couldn’t get out of … yet here we are years later, always finding the light, still friends.

  To: Mikaela Washington

  From: Dad’s Work Email

  Subject: Response card

  Dear Mikaela,

  I know things have been difficult and strained between us, but I was wondering if you had given some thought to my wedding. I haven’t received your response card and want you to know that I’d really like you at the wedding. It’s important to me that I have you (and your sisters) there on this day. Losing your mom was hard on all of us and I know that marrying Janet has probably come as a shock to you.

  I’d like to get back to being a family and for you to get to know Janet. Explaining why and how things have happened with her will help you understand my decision. I know the last several years I’ve been distant, but I want to talk to you and make changes going forward.

  Please come to the wedding and call me so that we can talk through all of this. It would mean the world to me to have you there.

  I love you.

  Dad

  RED.

  Red and blue.

  Red and blue and purple.

  Those were the colors I’d often feel running inside of me, streaming fast through my blood and filling the empty space in my mind. Red representing the anger that boils up in me and blue is the iciness that coats me after the rage. Now purple … purple is when the two overlap and bleed into each other, creating the darkness that overtakes all of me. This is when I become completely closed off, leaving me a prisoner in my own body and mind. Edgy, sharp and distant from all. Purple is rare, but the memories of it invading me will never be forgotten. Purple makes me who I am today.

  Now those colors are slowly fading out, turning into washed out reds, blues and purples. Brightness invades more often than not these days. It didn’t happen overnight, in fact, it took years. Only one person I know could’ve ever brought out the happiness in me. Sometimes I still question if that’s what this is … happiness. Then I remind myself it can come in all colors.

  The sun begins to set, blending together those yellows and oranges just over the horizon of the Pacific Ocean. Those are the colors that run through me more and more each day. I dig my heels a little further into the sand, not really ready to leave, as I read the words on my phone over and over again. My dad is getting married in six weeks. Red starts to cloud my vision, flooding my feelings with a familiar anger, but then strong arms encase me from behind in a hug. The only arms I’ve ever felt completely safe and secure in … other than my dad’s and it’s been too long. So much of my life has come together, but the relationship with my dad continues to be strained.

  Of course, I’m sure an email has been not only sent to me, but to my other two sisters, Marisa and Mya, as well. Being a triplet has not always been easy for me. Marisa, who has always been the good girl, does everything right … the best grades in school, even in college, she’s never late, and is always the most polite. I could have been the good girl too, once upon a time, but that was taken from me. Then again I could have been the bad girl too, like Mya. She was always being bold, pushing her limits, sticking out like a wild flower in the middle of a vast field. But no, I was neither. I made sure that I didn’t stick out anywhere; in fact, I’m positive that put me in the position that ruined me for years.

  I push people away; that’s what I do, especially those who are closest. Things have shifted in a good way for me though. For once I’ve made decisions for myself, leaving my home to better myself. Putting the protection of my sisters and Dad aside. This wasn’t some whim or rebellious decision, it was mine and for me and only me. The darkness that always consumed the empty spaces in me, like a shady vacant room in a motel waiting for anyone to take up residency, is finally beginning to fill with warmth, healing and forgiveness. Yet something else I still can’t name on its own looms in the background.

  Two things that I struggle with daily are confrontation of the past and confession to my future … meaning my present is somewhere unstable. Staring at my dad’s words and that he’s marrying in six weeks has me itching with the urge to swallow myself in a lonesome cocoon. Then I feel soft lips brush against the bottom lobe of my ear, arms tightening around my waist and hot breath bringing me back to my present.

  “Mik, you okay?” Ryan asks, gentle smoothness coats his words like always. From our first day of knowing each other he’s shortened my name from Mikaela to Mik. Fondness of his shortening settles on me because it reminds me of my mom.

  Pushing my head back against his firm chest, warmth seeps through his loose shirt onto my cheek; I close my eyes and remember how I got here. It’s a brief memory that has my words choked up in the middle of my throat. Ryan reaches further to grasp my hand and runs my cool knuckles across his lips. It’s still foreign feeling how those lips, his words, can race my pulse like no other.

  Ryan waits patiently for me to answer; he never pushes me or asks too much of me. Lately though, I feel more and more everyday that I’ll have to explain the way I am … and well, explaining is never my strong suit. My strong suit is listening.

  The sun continues to set, sinking further into the ocean and the air begins to cool even more. “It’s an email from my dad,” I start and then suck in the ocean air before I continue; “he’s getting married in six weeks.”

  His hot lips press into my temple leaving a wet imprint. The feeling lingers on my delicate skin and I wish I could have more imprints elsewhere, but I force myself to draw out more. “I―I’m not ready for this. My mom’s only been gone for about six months. I don’t—” My tongue knots into the corner of my cheek and I press my molars into it, waiting for the taste of blood.

  “You can. I’ll go with you.” He doesn’t even know what he’s agreeing to. All he knows is that my relationship with my sisters is strained and that I’m angry with my dad for moving on too quickly. The secrets of my past bubble up into the swell of my lungs every time there’s more to reveal and breathin
g becomes tight, wheezy even … red then blue rushes through me, but I won’t allow myself to retreat into the darkness.

  Pushing gently out of his arms and standing up on wobbly feet, I turn to face him. He stretches his arm and his fingers latch onto my ring finger rubbing the thin band with a larger than needed round, sparkling diamond. His soft brown eyes squint as they look up into mine, pausing me. “I’m going to head in.” I steer my gaze up over his head focusing on the sliding doors to our beach home.

  “Hey, you are ready for it because I’ll be there with you; I’m your husband, Mik.” I swallow and loosen my finger free, curl my toes back and forth into the grains of the sand then begin to walk around him, past him.

  I don’t respond before I slide the glass door open. Brushing my feet onto the flowered rug just on the other side, I briefly glance over my shoulder to see Ryan still sitting in the sand with his head in his hands. I contemplate going back to him, but then I move one foot in front of the other on the cold tile to the stairs.

  After a long hot shower, I slip my nightgown over my head allowing the shear linen fabric to stick to my still wet skin. I climb into bed with my laptop and pull up my dad’s email, seeing a reply to Mya and me from Marisa. Instantly, I draw in a shaky breath and hesitate before reading her message. It’s been a long time since we’ve communicated, but it doesn’t surprise me that she’s the first one of the three of us to start this conversation. It’s her job to try to keep us together, just like the good girl she is. Of course, Mya has not replied yet; who knows, she could be traveling the world. Marisa’s email has the email from Dad forwarded and says we should talk and all go to the wedding. Easy for her to say.

  The sound of the sliding glass door from down stairs opening and closing echo up here in our bedroom, followed by the fridge door and then a bottle cap cracking off one of Ryan’s beers. Relief fills me that I still have time to read this again and can still decide on replying. Replying means that I’m truly considering going to the wedding, as well as opening up and letting my sisters back in. I can’t be sure than I’m really ready for any of this, but I need to consider … at least that’s what my therapist would encourage. Then the familiarity of the reds and blues swim in me as I think about being back at home. I’ll be forced to face the memories, maybe even face those who I’m not ready to face.

  Yet my loving husband sits downstairs ready to face any of this with me. I beg for those oranges and yellows he’s brought into my life to over power these dark memories. Being with Ryan gives me strengths I didn’t know existed.

  Without too much more consideration, I begin to stroke the keys one letter at a time, careful to choose each word precisely.

  To: Mya Washington; Marisa Washington

  From: Mikaela Washington

  RE: Wedding

  Hi Marisa and Mya,

  I just saw my email from Dad. I’ll look it over and get back to you.

  Mikaela

  My pointer finger hovers over the enter key for several minutes, which turns into an hour and then some. I search the Internet and then come back to the email, and then go back to searching. Eventually, I hear Ryan beginning to lock up the house. I click it and off it goes to my sisters. As quietly as I can, I close my laptop, slip it under my side of the bed and pull the thin white sheet up to my chest. Just before I hear Ryan’s feet pad across the wood floor of our upstairs hallway, I close my eyes and turn a smidge toward the center of the bed.

  Ryan moves about our room, doing little to avoid making any noise, going in and out of our bathroom. Hearing his skin rub against his clothes as he begins to remove them one at a time has me opening my eyes just enough to take a peek. Once he slides his shorts down, my breathing accelerates. I close my eyes again and hold my breath, but can’t resist sneaking one more look to see his naked form slipping into bed beside me. Torn between wanting to throw myself on him and make love to him or turning over with hopes he’ll forget all of this. It’s obvious my refusal to open up is hurting him. Even in the now dark room, I can see the hurt etched on his face. I l love this man more than anything and hurting him is the last thing I’d ever want to do.

  Still, I wait for him to pull me close so I can feel his heat. I wait some more and then some more … but he never does. When he turns away from me, facing the only solid wall in our bedroom, my heart sinks into the pit of my gut. It feels like a poison … a lot like purple.

  THE NEXT MORNING I WAKE up in a sweat from the nightmare I was having. A fitful body writhing, reaching, scratching, desperate to ease the heavy weight, the pressure … wanting, needing air ... suffocation. As I wipe my forehead, I’m relieved and hurt all at once when I see the empty space next to me. The nightmares happen often, but they never get easier on me. It’s a feeling I hate, loathe; it’s like carrying a ton of bricks on my back every night. Never knowing if I’ll fall into the dark, touching the outskirts of purple is too close for comfort, including peaceful sleep.

  Even though Ryan always leaves before me for work, he has always woken me to kiss me, tell me a little something or even to make love. I swallow the loss and distance consuming me. Lost in my afterthoughts of my nightmare, I drift off thinking of how much longer I have until I need to reveal secrets. Fear grips me that I could lose everything I’ve worked so hard to bring into my life. Outright lying to Ryan would crush him, break us, and push us off the rush of adrenaline that has been our bubble until recently. Just the thought of that is painful, riveting, something I could never return from. Could our honeymoon phase be over already? How long does it normally last?

  I get ready for the day and before I leave I check my email at least five, ok maybe six, times. There is no response to my reply to my sisters and I’m starting to regret my answer. I could have been more honest and said that I saw it earlier and was just processing it or I could have just said ‘yes’. The reality is I don’t know how I could possibly bear to go to the wedding with the possibility that the one who took more from me than I ever gave will most likely be there.

  One of the many benefits of working in Los Angeles is that people don’t start at the rise of the sun for work and I thoroughly enjoy my nine-thirty start time. With only a few minutes to spare, I scan the parking lot for Ryan’s car, but never spot it when I walk through the Chambers Video Media, Inc. doors. Working in animation has been my dream and moving here for this job is the best decision I have ever made. This job, the ocean, and meeting Ryan Chambers changed me … allowed the light in.

  After greeting the front desk, I scurry back down the hall until I see the Mikaela Washington nameplate just outside my office doors. I stare at it for a brief second and think of what it would look like if it read Mikaela Chambers instead. That’s Ryan’s wish, but I still think it’s better to keep that part of our lives separated from his business. Setting down my briefcase and purse, I pull my lunch out and make my way to the kitchen. The morning feels off-kilter to me, has a hold on me and I know it’s because of Ryan’s distance. Memories of last night flash through my mind, tightening my chest and making it difficult to take a deep breath. Unable to hold out any longer, eager to find my fate, to face the fight, I carefully tread to the wide staircase leading to the second level.

  When I reach Ryan’s secretary, we say our ‘good mornings’ and just as Ryan has instructed her to let me straight back at anytime for any reason, I continue past her to his door. Without knocking I open the door, but the office is bare of Ryan. The sunlight filters in through the many windows surrounding the perfectly square-shaped room. Small dust particles dance off his desk from the slight breeze of the door opening, making it obvious he never came in this morning. I don’t bother to move any further into the room, but let my eyes gaze a moment longer on our wedding photo on the bookshelf behind his desk. The focus of the photo is soft, creating a blur, the ocean is in the background, our eyes are closed and Ryan’s lips press into my forehead.

  When I close the door I ask his secretary, “Where’s Ryan?”

 
; “Oh hunny, he’s at that meeting in San Francisco, remember?”

  Hiding any shock I feel, I roll my tongue along the roof of my mouth and hold out on responding. I’m not shocked because he’s gone; I knew about the trip, but just forgot. He left without saying goodbye to me. He’s never done that, well at least not in our few short months of marriage. It dawns on me that I don’t even know what he’s like when he’s mad or angry. Ignoring, hmmm, I guess I get that.

  “Thanks, I just forgot,” I tell her as I walk away.

  Settling in my swivel chair in my office I begin to work on my next project, playing around with the different characters the clients chose for the video. Distracted, my mind wanders, thinking of all my daunting problems … Dad, sisters, but most of all, Ryan.

  At the end of my first day at Chambers Video Media, Inc., I cleaned off my desk, making sure to file my papers and then sorted away any files on my computer. It had become a ghost town around here at six, but I didn’t feel nearly ready to leave. With my back turned to my office door, I could hear the shuffle of someone approaching. There stood Ryan Chambers, the owner … looking ridiculously young and handsome. Leaning against my door, he took in the sight of my office and then his eyes focused on me. I smiled at him as I stood, shifting my casual cotton dress as I came to a full upright stance. He returned a simple grin and then licked his lips before he grated his teeth along his bottom lip. My insides swarmed with a light rush of excitement and my palms began to collect moisture. We both swallowed and then began to talk at the same time.

  “Sorry, go ahead,” I said suddenly, feeling insecure in my overly-casual and older dress. It was too loose or maybe too tight, the color was all wrong for my complexion. Ryan chuckled and then took a step into the tight space leaving only a foot or two between us. The closeness felt awkward as my heart froze in my chest, making my next breath rattle.