Love Found in California (The Washington Triplets)

by Rolka, Melissa

  We found a table for two and ordered our drinks. Then just like all the other nights, it turned into dinner with Ryan paying in the end. Our conversation went by unbelievably quick. Topics came and went. Ryan praised me on my hard work and the courage to move here on my own. When he asked questions about my family, I clammed up more, but was able to divert his focus.

  This time after he paid, he reached out and curled his long fingers around mine as he guided us out of the bar. Instead of walking toward the office, he steered us in the direction of the beach. The sand soon began to creep between my toes. My loose, simple skirt swayed with the light breeze. The sun was gone and now the moon sparkled on the surface of the water. A rustling sound from a nearby palm tree had us tilting our heads to look up. When our eyes both came back down, I saw his desire looking back at me. It both frightened and thrilled me.

  His hands moved to my shoulders, pulling me into him and the awareness of the heat tingled over my body. “Mik, you’re amazing,” he whispered just loud enough for me to hear over the waves and the rustling of the palm trees. Amazing. My ears flooded as I wondered if I heard him right. That sounded so good I thought I might cry. No one had ever told me I was amazing … pretty, beautiful, sexy, quiet, strange, unnoticeable even, but never amazing.

  My body warmed in his hands, and before I could stop myself I leaned into him. His lips brushed against mine like a feather. They were gentle, soft and tender, all kinds of wonderful. Things I had never experienced. The kiss was slow with his lips doing the instructing. I matched his pace, letting him teach me how to do this. There was no urgency or force. After a minute or two our tongues darted out in unison, deepening our union. My hands stayed at my sides, afraid to ruin the beauty of this kiss. Cradling the back of my head with his palms, Ryan took the strain out of my neck. Loosely my head moved with precision in his hands.

  “I mean, come on, Mikaela, haven’t you had a one night stand? Wait, if it was with my brother don’t tell me! Ewww.” Carrie squealed and my eyes bugged out. I probably needed to pay more attention to her, but now my heart thumped hard with the memory of my first kiss with Ryan.

  Looking out into the hallway, I checked to make sure no one was walking by, before I replied, “No.” The possibility of expanding on that made bile rise in my throat. She opened her mouth, but I stopped her as I began to tell her, “Shoot, I have to finish up this report for Ryan before one today. Let’s finish up later, okay?”

  Carrie hopped off my desk and threw her head back in defeat. “Errr, I don’t know what to do. Dating is so hard. Is it better to have good sex or a nice guy with only mediocre sex? One will never know!” I laughed as she exited and then smiled knowing I had both.

  RACING OUT THE DOORS AND through the parking lot, I climb in my Honda Civic to head inland for my appointment. Traffic in Los Angeles at this time of day is horrid, really awful, but living in Chicago all my life has prepared me. Even though it’s moving at a snail’s pace, I still have time to get there. The bumper-to-bumper congestion reminds me so much of home, even the smell of the exhaust from all the cars. I finally crawl my way up to the light and wait for it to turn green.

  Not hearing from Ryan all day gnaws away at my insides, making me feel agitated and fidgety, hence my fingers beating on my steering wheel. For the millionth time I glance down at my phone praying there’s a text from Ryan, but still there’s nothing.

  Unable to wait any longer, I call him. The phone rings through my Bluetooth, crackling loudly and then I hear Ryan’s voice resonate through the car. I listen to the entirety of his message just to hear his voice …

  “Hi, you’ve reached Ryan Chambers with Chambers Video Media. Leave a message and I’ll return your call as soon as possible. Thank you.”

  It’s overly professional sounding and so different from how he is with me, but it reminds me of how much I love to see him in action, as a businessman. Only Carrie and I get to see this other side of him that’s sweet, fun and unguarded. And only I get to see the private loving side of him.

  “Did you hear Ryan’s nailing the new girl, Mikaela?” One of the sales reps asked another sales rep. Clearly they didn’t realize that my office door was cracked open a little. I’m sure they were down the hall, but the echo traveled into my office just loud enough that I could hear them.

  “Nice, she’s kind of shy and modest, but definitely hot.” I got up to move closer to my door to hear the rest of the conversation, but they must have walked further down the hall.

  I leaned against the wall wanting to crumble to the ground. This was one of my fears. Hearing people gossip about me or knowing they were jumping to their own conclusions brought me back to a time I wanted to forget. People assuming one thing, not bothering to know the truth or even care, killed me.

  Beep. The guy behind me mouths something animatedly at me for slacking on gunning it through the now green light. I roll my eyes through the mirror wanting him to see me, but he’s already looking down into his lap. I continue to stare at the guy through the mirror knowing Ryan would definitely have had more to gesture to the guy.

  Just as I bring my concentration back to the road, it’s too late and I slam right into the back of a pretty little Mercedes with no roof. A bolt of tension shoots through me as my body uncontrollably flies forward and then back. The force that my head hits the steering wheel has my eyes rolling loosely with the red taillights imprinted into my vision. Immediately, I taste blood in my mouth but can’t discern where the bleeding is coming from. Pain travels over me, never really landing in one place, and my sight is tainted with everything spinning.

  As the taste of my salty tears mixes with the blood, I carefully run my fingers over my face trying to feel for the source of the blood. Slowly, I move them past my forehead into my hairline and come up short. Afraid to move too much, I reach for the rearview mirror to angle it in my direction and see that it’s a bloody nose that’s causing the bleeding. My face looks in tact and I take a deeper breath in relief. The feeling of being unbalanced settles some, but I’m still not sure what to do next or how to handle this. That’s until … my door is practically ripped open with a man, who looks to be older than Ryan, but younger than my dad.

  “What the hell were you doing? That’s a brand new car you just hit!” he shouts at me. His face reddens by the second. Then he takes in my face and bends toward me, his bald head revealing a few stray grays. I can’t help flinching in response until his eyes soften when he says, “Oh shit, you’re hurt. Okay, okay, I’m calling for help right now. It’s okay.” Once he connects with someone on the other end, I lean my head back and close my eyes. “Hey, hey, don’t close your eyes. Stay with me … Shit, the corner of Wilshire and 3rd … Yea, the girl who hit me is hurt ... She’ll need an ambulance.”

  Ambulance, how could that be? Suddenly, I feel lonely. I need Ryan, want him so bad right now. With my eyes now open, I tell the stranger, “I’m, I’m fine.” The redness that was just there has left his face and he looks more worried than angry. He ignores my response and continues to answer questions. One hand is secured on his phone and the other is gripping the inside of my doorframe. I scan his body and feel relieved that he seems to be unharmed. I don’t think I could forgive myself if I hurt someone else because I was in la-la land while I was driving.

  The tears begin to come down heavy and I sob when I think of Ryan. I want Ryan to make this all better. I try to sit myself more upright, but I weakly fall back into my seat. “What’s your name, sweetie?”

  “Mikaela Chambers.” My voice quivers and sounds small, like a child. Then I spot my phone and reach over to the passenger seat to grab it.

  “Do you want me to call someone? Your mom or your dad?” he asks when he sees me trying to search through my phone with teary eyes. “Here, let me.” I easily pass it over to him.

  “My husband, Ryan, Ryan Chambers,” I say, barely audible through my crying. The sounds of a siren begin to come in clearer and closer. I can’t stop crying and I’m n
ot sure if it’s from the accident or because I miss Ryan so badly.

  The man that had started out furious over the damage to his car is now focused on getting me the help I need. “Hi, Ryan, I’m with your wife, Mikaela, at the corner of Wilshire and 3rd. We were in a car accident and the ambulance is just pulling up. You should head over to the hospital to meet her there … ah, probably Good Samaritan.” I’m crying so hard I can’t even tell him that he’s out of town. After he hits end, he stays by my side as we wait for the ambulance.

  “You’re doing great, Mikaela … Take a deep breath … Shhhh, there you go … Okay, they’re here.” His genuine kindness and concern calms me for the time being. Then he steps away to let in one of the paramedics and I realize I don’t have his name or anything.

  “I’m so sorry, sir. Sir!” I yell hoping he can hear me, but he’s already talking to an officer, explaining the details of the crash. As they wheel me away, I’m grateful for his fatherly demeanor and that he didn’t let his anger control the situation.

  ***

  Lying stiff on a long orange board over the stretcher in the emergency room, I wait for them to take me to X-ray before they’ll let me bend my limbs again. Even my head is strapped to the board. When the nurses come in to ask questions, I can’t even turn my head to the side to look at them. Things hurt all over my body, but I honestly have no inclination if anything is actually broken.

  All I can think of is Ryan and how I’ll have to handle this all on my own. I have no family or really any friends that I can call. Well, except Carrie. She’d come down here in a heartbeat, but she’d probably over react. I’ll wait to have them call her until I know more.

  God, I don’t even know how Ryan will handle this. We’ve never even had so much as a cold around each other in the short time we’ve been together. What if he’s mad at me for not being more cautious? What if I’ve totaled my car and he won’t help me until I can get another one? What if I’m really hurt and he won’t let me take off work? What if he doesn’t want to help take care of me? My mind races away with all the what if’s until I hear his deep voice cracking …

  “Mik, shit … I’m here, it’s me love,” Ryan says and then hugs me as best he can around the stiff orange board. When his lips press into my cheek and I smell his cologne, I close my eyes, holding in the tears. In an instant, the worry flees and my husband’s sweet words comfort me.

  ***

  Hours later I sit in a wheel chair with a nurse just outside the emergency room doors. Ryan’s silver sporty Infinity slows as it approaches the doors and my eyes zero in on the shiny rims of his wheels spinning. The dread I feel to be alone with him overtakes all thoughts, even the reminisce of pain left in me fades further away. I start to stand, but the nurse’s hand covers my shoulder to gently hold me in place. She wheels me further out and Ryan races out to me.

  Ryan’s hand extends out to mine, our fingers hold onto each other and for a brief moment I’m reminded of all the reasons I said yes. “Thank you,” he says to the nurse and then plants his eyes on mine as he says, “I’ve got you. Hold on to me tight.” His free hand moves around my waist as he guides me upward out of the wheelchair.

  “Thank you for everything,” I tell the nurse who was with me most of my time in the emergency room, and then bend to get into Ryan’s car. Once inside, Ryan pulls my seatbelt across me and snaps it in, just like my mom used to when I was a kid. His lips come to mine soft and tender, holding in place until we both hear the strum of another car pulling up behind us. When he releases my lips, he moves his to my forehead for a quick peck. I’d love to sink myself deep into his miracle-working lips and forget all about this and everything else that looms around in my head.

  THREE DAYS LATER, AFTER BEING waited on hand and foot by Ryan, I’m finally feeling quite a bit better ... A little bruised and sore, but other than that, not too bad. Ryan set up the spare room as an office to do all of his work. I kept insisting he could go to the office, but he refused every time, and firmly too. Every hour, maybe even minutes, I waited for Ryan to blow up or snap at me, but it never happened. He didn’t care one bit about the cost of the accident and was pushing even more than before to buy me a new car. Like always, his arms made me feel safe and secure and his words raced my pulse, but it stopped there. I wanted him to touch me more, to explore my body and for me to take him over. Insecurity became my old friend again, lurking behind every pure thought, questioning every action.

  We needed to talk, but he didn’t want to push me and I certainly wasn’t going to willingly initiate the conversation. Yet I craved this break in our relationship. I love Ryan, more than anything, and know we do not have the history most couples have to base our relationship on. We’re learning as we go …

  After that first kiss on the beach, I knew I was ruined. I could never turn back from this and have my heart in tact or solely my own again. Internally, I begged myself to break this off, walk away, be strong and just pursue my career … but each day after work we became closer and kissed more. The rumors spread like rapid fire and it only increased my anxiety.

  “Mik, don’t listen to any of it. Rumors occur at any office.” He tried to ease my worry, but my face pinched together with the stress. “I can take care of every rumor if you’d like. I’ll put everyone in their place—”

  I cut him off, “No, no that will only make it worse. I-I don’t know. Maybe—”

  This time he cut me off, mere inches from my face. “Absolutely not, Mik.” His voice shook with finality, but his hands held me securely to his chest. “How could you even begin to suggest that?”

  “I know, but, but … I’m worried about the outcome.” My voice actually trembled, wavered more than I had heard it in years. “Just hear me out. Maybe if we take a break from it, the rumors will stop and then we can see. I can’t lose this job and obviously this is your career and everything to you.”

  His arms loosened and I instantly felt lost, insecure and red, mixing with the blue swirling through me. Maybe it was a magenta color invading me, something new. I felt raw and exposed, but for the first time I wanted it and yet I knew it was a bad idea. Too much could be at risk. He blinked his eyes rapidly as if trying to process my words and then he spoke softly, “You know, as well as I do, I know you do. Look into my eyes, Mik. This is different. It’s never been like this for me. And I know for you either. Don’t you trust me?”

  I stared back, hypnotized by his charisma and his ability to draw me in with such delicacy and tenderness. My words caught in the middle of my throat, the lump too large to swallow past. He was right, this was like no other relationship I had ever had. My heart rattled inside me, hopeful and hurting all at the same time. Trust. Trust. Trust? I couldn’t be sure I knew what trust was anymore.

  When his fingers traced my face and his lips came close to mine I pulled back, probably too sharp because Ryan flinched in response. “We just have to stop. No more.” My tone had been taken over by the part of me he knew little about, the part where reds and blues overtook me.

  I scurried clumsily around his desk and left his office as quick as my feet could. My insecure inner-self begged me to leave the office, maybe even the city or state, until this all went away. The rest of the day I felt bile rising up, on and off. It had only been two and half months, but damn if this didn’t hurt like hell. The bond I had with Ryan was not something I could bury, shake off or go to therapy for. I knew I was screwed.

  “Ry?” I ask as he pulls on his jeans past his hips. His hair shining with moisture from his shower and his face looking the youngest and most playful that I have seen it in days.

  He bends his head with a smile and asks back, “Mik?”

  “Stop,” I retort with a smirk.

  “What, love?”

  “Should we um, should …” I try to stutter out my question without sounding whiny or childlike, but fail miserably. Ryan zips his jeans and crawls up the bed shirtless. As I watch his stealth-like crawl, my breath catches, making me fee
l warm and light. When he reaches the top, he lays on his side, facing me with his elbow propped up and holding his head.

  “Talk?” He finishes my question for me.

  “Yea,” I say on an exhaled breath, fighting to keep my emotions in check.

  “Well, how are you feeling, first?”

  Untangling the sheets from me, I turn on my side and match his exact position before I respond nervously. “Better. I’m fine and can definitely return to work.” My free hand cups his cheek and we both pause to just stare.

  I break the silence first this time. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?” His eyes do more than question my apology. They seem to be begging for more from me.

  My eyes dart low, almost shutting, to avoid his prying. He’s right though, there is probably more I should be sorry for. The accident is really not the root for concern. “I’ll be right back.” He rolls off the bed with my hand now empty of his cheek. Moving myself to lean against the headboard I curl my legs up to my chin and wrap my arms around them. My nightgown slips down to my thighs, but still manages to cover my bottom. It’s probably more modest than Ryan would prefer, but it’s a comfortable cotton, especially for the hot nights.

  Ryan walks back into our bedroom, still shirtless, holding something small and white in his hand. He sits next to me with a row of even space between us. The sheets and comforter are all gathered at the end of the bed and both our bodies pull at the fitted sheet beneath us. While my legs remain curled up into me, Ryan’s stretch out long, crossing at his ankles, his bare tan feet exposed.

  As I turn my head to him he smiles lovingly at me, and I can see his face strain slightly as he breathes in a shallow breath. Then he places a small rectangular-shaped card on the pulled sheet between us. I look down and instantly see what it is. My breathing stops, but Ryan pulls at my hands, releasing my legs. They fall limply down to the bed beneath me, feeling like jelly.