Love Found in California (The Washington Triplets)

by Rolka, Melissa

  After the breakdown in my office, Ryan insisted I go home and rest. To be sure I left, he even drove me home, took me to our bedroom, stripped me of my work clothes, which had improved since marrying Ryan, and slipped me into one of his t-shirts. Tucking me under the covers, he kissed my head and told me to call him for any reason at all.

  Just after three, the door opens, much earlier than Ryan usually comes home. He races up the stairs, quieting his steps just as he approaches our room.

  “I’m awake,” I say with a smile.

  “Oh good. How do you feel?” he asks while unbuttoning his shirt, tossing it over to the hamper.

  “Better. I actually took a nap. I was more sore and tired than I had thought,” I tell him honestly. Swinging my legs around the bed I watch Ryan take his pants off and throw on some shorts. He makes his way over to me and then kneels in front of me.

  “Good,” he replies with a smile that settles somewhere between sweet and sexy. His hands rest on my bare thighs and begin to move slowly, tingling my skin. “You positive?”

  “Yes, much better. Thank you for everything today, Ry. I—”

  “The days not over, love,” he says with a slight rising of his one eyebrow, as if asking for clearance. I can’t resist matching his eyebrow gesture with my own. His smile instantly turns from sweet to sexy.

  When his lips hit my inside thigh, my eyelids flutter and then close. I inhale and exhale, sighing with satisfaction. With each movement and kiss, Ryan’s eyes measure my response, looking to me to see if he should continue. He loves to observe and account for all my reactions, as do I with him. The higher his lips travel the more my anticipation grows while the worry and panic of earlier drift further away.

  His fingers creep up to my panty line and then he begins to pull them downward, stopping his kisses when his lips meet the cotton. Our eyes lock on each other, me easily mesmerized by the intent brown coloring of his. I lift and he slides the cotton from my behind, over my thighs and off all together. Slowly, he raises one leg and then the other over his shoulders, as he continues to kneel in front of me.

  “Relax, Mik,” he breathes against my upper thigh. Our eyes still meeting each other until I allow myself to fall back onto the bed.

  When Ryan’s mouth covers me, I moan out without resistance for the instant feeling of stress leaving my body. As Ryan makes me feel all things good, pleasurable and satisfying, I take ease in knowing that this will be the only man until I die that will make me feel this way.

  ***

  Lying with Ryan curled around me in a feeling of ecstasy, I listen to our breathing. After a while, Ryan turns me to face him, scanning my face and holding my cheeks. “I talked to the therapist’s office.” He pauses to watch my reaction, but I don’t let myself react because there is no need to panic. We already agreed that we would go to therapy together. “Three days, she’ll see just you, but I’ll come with. Then we’ll go in together when she feels you are ready. Okay?”

  Twitching my lips back and forth I contemplate what to say, but Ryan assures me. “We are a team. I’m your husband and we’ll do this together.”

  “Okay,” I breathe out, maybe a little too sharply.

  Accepting my answer, he kisses my forehead and then my lips before he says, “Yes.” Releasing his hold on me, but keeping his eyes on mine, he starts to scoot from the bed. “I have something for you. Stay here.” I open my mouth to ask what, but he’s already gone from the room.

  A minute later, Ryan’s entering the room with a shopping bag from a boutique down the road from the office. Lana and Lila’s Boutique etched across the bag definitely catches my eye. I love this shop, but rarely buy anything there because it’s pricey.

  “Okay, you won’t hurt my feelings if you don’t like it. I had Carrie pick it out. See what you think and then either way I’m taking you out. It’s Friday night, baby.” Again he cocks one of his eyes playfully at me and I can’t help the giggle that bubbles up.

  “You didn’t have to get me something. I’d go out with you tonight regardless,” I say teasingly as I smack his arm and grab the bag into my lap.

  He climbs back up on the bed beside me. “I have to say, I really like it and hope that you do. You’ll looking amazing in it … just like you always do.” I start to pull apart the tissue paper and get more excited as I peek at him. His charm and charisma draw me in just as they did in the beginning. “Oh, and we are not talking about the appointment next week or the car accident or your dad’s wedding. Deal?”

  The material is smooth and silky; it slips through my hands landing on my lap. “Ryan, I love it!” I exclaim with joy before answering his question. The dress is a mint green tunic-style with ivory lace trim on the bottom.

  “So, is it a deal?” He presses me further with amusement in his tone. Glancing at him I can see the thrill it gives him to see me happy.

  Even though I know it’s only a temporary silence that Ryan is allowing and that he is probably hoping that this strategy is a means to an end … me telling him everything. On the other hand, maybe Ryan’s not ready to disturb our bubble of being newlyweds yet either. Either way, I appreciate it. “Yes, yes, it’s a deal,” I squeal and grab him to me, kissing him with a loud smack on his lips. Ryan reaches around and pinches my bare behind, murmuring for me to hurry up and get changed.

  ***

  Pulling up to the Hollywood Bowl, I beam from ear to ear. I had always heard that it was an outstanding amphitheater to hear music. Ryan parks and comes around to open my door, which he often does if I don’t beat him to it. When I stand, I smooth my dress out, worrying about the length of it being too short.

  Lacing our fingers together he whispers in my ear, “You look gorgeous, so stunning.” My skin sizzles, making the hairs on my arms stand up.

  “Are you sure? Maybe this is too short for me,” I state hesitantly.

  “About you being gorgeous, of course I’m sure. The dress is short and I like you in it … as long as you’re with me.” I hate the feeling of insecurity that clouds my thoughts. It seems silly because Ryan has never said anything to make me feel otherwise. The truth is I’m more comfortable in my skin than I have ever been in my life, well at least in years.

  Contemplating my range of options, knowing none of them seem rational except for enjoying the evening with my loving husband. I squeeze Ryan’s hand and say, “Okay, let’s go. I can’t wait!”

  “That’s my girl.” His girl, Ryan’s girl, I love when he calls me ‘my girl’. He doesn’t use this term of endearment as often as ‘Mik’ or ‘love’, but it makes me feel attached, that I belong here with him … protected.

  Ryan pulls me close into his side and with each step we take, my insecurities subside, drifting off with the low hum of people buzzing and a melody floating from the speakers of the amphitheater. He leads us up to The Wine Bar for dinner. He orders enough food for an army, letting us sample a wide variety of flavors. We share all of the dishes and drink delicious Soju cocktails. My favorite has elderflower syrup with lemon and strawberries in it. Ryan explains, “Soju means burned liquor.”

  “Hmmm, nothing about this burns. It doesn’t burn at all actually,” I confess as I take a healthy sip again.

  “The syrup helps with that,” he laughs out.

  “Well, it’s delicious and I want another,” I shoot back, the alcohol relaxing me more and more.

  “Well, love, Soju etiquette is never pour your own and don’t refill your glass until it’s empty.” I look at him over the rim of my glass and finish the remaining drops of my cocktail until it is gone.

  Ryan’s face flushes and he shakes his head as he holds a finger up to the waitress and signals for two more. His smile is one of those that consumes his whole face. He has that smile that stands out in a crowd; your eyes automatically come back to him every time. When the waitress set our drinks down, Ryan quickly switches them. This time ginger syrup with lime and mint cover my taste buds.

  We talk. And talk some more. We
talk just like when we were dating, with no inhibitions or worries. Well, I probably always had worries, but Ryan pushed those away more than anyone else could. Ryan explains the details of one of our upcoming clients and throws around some ideas.

  “You’re so talented, Mik. I knew I had made the best hire with you. Your work always amazes me. You amaze me,” he whispers across the table. His hand grazing my thigh just under the table fills all of my senses.

  Staring at him, feeling giddy and light-headed, I stumble on a reply. “You … you make me feel that way.”

  We finish up our food and drinks. Then Ryan takes us to our box seats, both of us with a bit of sway in our steps now. Our bodies stay in constant contact. Fingers entwined, arms touching and sweet kisses. The music starts and I want to crawl into Ryan’s lap and let him hold me just like a baby. Of course, I contain myself.

  When the soft melody of Chris Isaak’s Wicked Game begins, everyone stands. Ryan and I face each other with our arms circled around one another. Our eyes locked, love and passion filling the small space between us. Ryan’s lips move soundlessly to the words reminding me of how I hadn’t planned to fall in this deep.

  THE WEEKEND ENDS MUCH TOO quickly and Monday morning comes without warning. I wake feeling like I slept peacefully and without interruption. My body is heated, but not sweating, with Ryan sleeping behind me. At first I think it must be really early if Ryan’s still here, but then I look at the clock and see it’s almost eight.

  I turn into Ryan and shake his arm, “Ry, Ry, wake up, you overslept.”

  His eyes open halfway and then close again as his lips turn upward. “No, I decided that we can drive together today.”

  “Why?” I ask as he nuzzles into my chest, releasing a yawn at the same time.

  “Because, we have your appointment after work and we need to figure out a new car for you,” he replies sleepily.

  I stretch out of his hold on me and straighten myself up along the headboard. “I don’t need a new car, it just needs to be repaired,” I state with a bit of agitation in my tone.

  “Mik, no, don’t argue with me on this. It’s not worth fixing. I want you to have something bigger, safer.” He sits up swinging his legs off the bed and runs his hands over his face, stretching his jaw out.

  “But I don’t want a different car. I like my car. It’s fine.” Stubbornly, I dig my heels into the bed with frustration. I’m not really mad at Ryan, just mad at the situation.

  Ryan chuckles as he walks around the bed toward the bathroom, shaking his head at me. “You’re feisty this morning,” he says as he steps into the bathroom, shutting the door.

  Seems silly that I feel so attached to a car, but I am. That car was a step in the right direction for me. It’s gotten me here, away from home. It was one of the first independent things I did after that summer. I had money saved and was able to lease it even though it was used. It gave me the independence and freedom to get to school, to my part-time job and to therapy on my own. Beforehand, I was reliant on my mom and even my dad sometimes to get me where I needed. Of course, Mom helped me take this step, encouraging me all along.

  This car meant something to me. It had traveled with me here to California, where I now feel destine to be … with Ryan. Ryan didn’t know this though, how could he? He was only looking out for me and my best interests.

  Once I hear the shower running, I open the door to the bathroom and slip Ryan’s t-shirt off of me. Then as I slide the shower door open, I remove my panties with my other hand. Ryan moves to the side to accommodate me.

  “Sorry,” I mumble, as I shift under the stream of water. Ryan helps push my head more into the spray, running his finger through my dark mass of thick hair.

  “I just want something a little safer for you and newer. Plus there is risk of more problems arising after an accident.”

  I step to the side to grab my shampoo and begin to lather my hair up as Ryan uses a bar of soap to clean me. His hands slide over my body tenderly, taking care to clean my back.

  “I know, but …” I stop, feeling my throat choke up and the bridge of my nose stings. I turn myself away from him, not wanting him to see me upset.

  From behind he washes the soap out of my hair, making sure all the suds leave. I watch the soap swirl around our ocean-colored tile and a tear slips from one of my eyes. When Ryan turns me around, he searches my face and wipes the lone tear.

  “Shit, what’s wrong, love?”

  “I’m being stupid. It’s silly.” My eyes continue to stare at the tiles, afraid to look up and shed more tears.

  “No you’re not. Tell me. What is it?” I peek at him and see the confusion set on his face.

  “I don’t want to get rid of that car yet. It means a lot to me. I know it seems silly, but it got me here to you and away from my past.” I speak the words softly, not caring that they sound out of sorts and broken.

  Ryan’s hands cup my cheeks and I focus in on his eyes. “Okay, then we’ll keep it until you’re ready. But we are still going to get you a new car.”

  “Thank you,” I whisper before I reach upward to kiss his lips. He kisses me back slow and careful, until I push him back against the smooth marble wall. My hands roam him freely, stroking his length and our kiss becomes more intense. Soon I’m turned around, my hands pushed against the smooth, cool marble with Ryan behind me.

  ***

  A little before one Carrie bursts into my office, refusing to take no for an answer. She literally pulls at my wrist forcing my hand to leave my keyboard. As she drags me from my chair giddy with laughter, I can’t help but laugh too.

  “You have to eat and I have so much to tell you now,” she begs me.

  “Okay, okay. Just let me send one thing off to Ry.” She releases her hold on my wrist and I scoot back to my chair. Quickly, I start to type an email and add in that I’m going to lunch with Carrie. “Let’s make it fast though, how about Sharky’s?”

  “Fine, hurry up now,” she says as she is already through my doorway.

  After we order some fish tacos and lemonades, we sit at a small table just outside the restaurant. At the same time we both dig in for a bite and sip our lemonades. I search my memory trying to remember what the name is of the guy or guys she’s dating and then ask, “So, how’s Craig?”

  She giggles through her chewing, practically spitting out her taco and then says, “It’s Kirk, but there’s Justin too.”

  I roll my eyes at her. “You’re horrible. Do you like either of them?” She really is bad, a temptress, but at the same time I like to hear how she doesn’t settle for just anyone. Before she even answers I try to think of what I might have been like if my life had not been determined for me … Would I have dated lots of guys? Would I have had a one night stand? Would I have married Ryan so quickly?

  “Actually, I think I’m leaning toward Kirk now. I mean, don’t get me wrong, Justin and I have crazy, kinky sex, but I think there is something missing.” My eyes bulge as I take in the surrounding people sitting too close to us. She’s so loud there’s no way they didn’t hear.

  “Seriously, Carrie. You are too loud,” I tell her while sliding down in my chair a bit more. Maybe if I had traveled down a similar path as her I wouldn’t get embarrassed as easily or care who heard us, but that wasn’t me. I didn’t have that history. Carrie had lots of girlfriends who all lived similarly, dating a new guy every week and then telling each other all the details. As she pulls her pretty blonde hair back into a ponytail, I can’t help but be thankful that she considers me a close friend. Even though there are times when she’s too much, I realize that’s what she is to me― a friend and a sister.

  “Oh please, like they don’t do the same thing. So now, Kirk, he’s not as kinky, but one lick on me and …” She’s a little quieter, but still the girl has no shame. She rattles on and on about Kirk and the things he does to her. Then I hear her talk about some more affectionate things he’s done for her. I listen like always with little to add and at t
his point it has nothing to do with my lack of experience, thanks to Ryan. Regardless, I would never share that part of Ryan and me with anyone.

  “Well, I think you should just date Kirk. Give it a shot. He seems to like you and I can tell you are definitely smitten with him.” She agrees with me and I’m shocked that she may give this a real chance. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of her being monogamous.

  We finish up and on the drive back Carrie asks, “You guys will be at my parents on Saturday, right?”

  “Oh, um, Ryan hasn’t said anything. I’m sure we will though.”

  “Good, they are eager to see you. I told them about the accident and they felt horrible,” she explains. I’m sure Ryan hasn’t brought it up because his parents have not accepted our marriage. It’s always tense and each visit they get more and more comfortable with making snide comments.

  “Really? I doubt that.”

  “Stop it. They care about you. Just give them some time. It’s all new to them. They had never even heard Ryan talk of marriage and then all of a sudden boom, he’s married.” She undoes her hair as she turns into the parking lot for work and then faces me. “It’s not like you guys gave anyone notice. They probably had envisioned being involved and a fancy wedding is all.” She shrugs her shoulders and I know she’s right.

  “I’ll make sure we’re there on Saturday. What can I bring?” Conceding to this is probably best. Ryan’s parents have never been kind, there is no denying that, but I know they love their son. The little comments about the age difference, that we just don’t know each other well enough and that we hid this from everyone really gets under his skin. It hurts me too, but the last thing I want is to add more fuel to the fire. Knowing that I am one of the biggest reasons for strain in my own family weighs heavily on my heart. I can’t let this happen to Ryan’s family, too.

  They tend to be more formal and that’s just not me, or Ryan for that matter. Yet I know that family is important to him. It used to be important to me and my family too. Sitting here, I linger on the thought of wishing for my own family to be closer again.