by Mignon Mykel
More now than ever.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
I collapsed into my new, overstuffed black desk chair. Its direct contrast to the deep mahogany brown desk suited my artistic taste beautifully. I looked around the studio and smiled in satisfaction.
Finally, my dreams were coming together. I rested my hands on my newly protruding belly. I had only popped in the last week or two and I loved it.
I still had two days to finish the touch-ups on this old building but after my full day today, all I wanted to do was organize my lights in the studio room. I’d be set to open.
I couldn’t contain my wide grin and squeal of excitement.
My big project for today had been painting the walls in the main seating area. Looking down at my layered tanks and my beloved holey jeans, I thought that maybe, just maybe, I’d gotten a little more paint on me then I had the walls.
I turned the chair to face the back wall as I rubbed the back of my hand over my brow.
On the wall behind my desk was a large matted print. I studied the new print carefully. It had just arrived this morning and it was the first piece I hung.
While the picture was set up, it wasn’t posed, giving it an airy, lifestyle, feel. The subject of the print was obviously the female walking away in the thigh-high grasses, but the picture was wide panned and not entirely focused on the person.
I scrutinized the person and came to the conclusion that no one would be able to detect it was actually me in the image.
There wouldn’t be a customer to walk through her door who would recognize the backside of the female with the long dark hair, to the photographer sitting in front of them with a softly curled, golden blonde inverted bob.
The new hair was a reflection of the new me.
Going back to my natural color for the first time in five years had been the biggest change, but I found it necessary. I didn’t want to keep coloring my hair through the pregnancy.
But more than that, I simply needed a new version of me.
I had gone dark in an attempt at change five years ago and ironically, I was going back to the older version of me, in order to find a new me.
If there was one thing Noah taught me, it was confidence, and I fought to keep that.
I finished my circle in the chair so I faced my desk once again. I glanced at the bare walls surrounding me. If the remaining prints and the corrected brochures came in tomorrow, I could actually open my doors to the public the following day.
Fingers and toes crossed, it would happen.
The sound of a motorcycle moving to the front of the store then idling a moment before the sound cut off had me tilting my head. I looked out through my big picture window, under the “Studio 11” script that adorned the window in large characters. I glanced at the side wall to check the time. It was seven.
Even if I had opened today, I certainly wouldn’t be open at this hour.
I returned my nosy attention back to the window. The man stood from his sport bike now. A rocket, I think they were called. He was wearing a burnt orange sweatshirt with the sleeves pushed up, but pushed them up more as he turned toward the building.
When I got a good look at his face, though, my jaw clenched.
He removed his sunglasses from his eyes and placed them on top of his forehead, on top of his turned-back black cap. I was in so much trouble.
The last time I’d seen him…
My hands went back to my belly. I could still disguise it some in a baggy shirt or looser tunic, but not in my tight ribbed tank.
I had caught a look at him on the news two weeks ago, two weeks after the brownie and the game and the loss. There’d been a spot about him, as he’d been awarded both the Les Cunningham award for being the American Hockey League’s most valuable player, and also the Jack A. Butterfield trophy for being the AHL’s Calder Cup playoff MVP.
Just that quick blurb had me nearly picking up the phone to call him.
Nearly had me walking to his apartment to say ‘hi.’
And now he was standing right outside my studio.
Needing to find something to do, I picked up one of my draft brochures to look over even though I already knew it was error-free.
When the front door opened, the bells hanging above the knob indicated Noah had walked in.
Again, I clenched my jaw tight. Maybe he’d turn around and leave.
The nerves this time were almost reminiscent of the butterflies I used to get when he’d glance at me, well before we’d ever truly met.
She was torn.
Please leave…
But it was the other that spoke louder.
Please don’t go…
I walked into the unlocked door and my eyes had to adjust to the dim lighting. The only light coming in to the store was from the front window. However, it wasn’t facing the setting sun.
I quickly glanced around the room, up at the recessed lighting, then down before my eyes landed on a desk in front of me, a woman standing beside it. The woman didn’t have Ryleigh’s long, auburn hair though; rather, she had short blond hair, too dark to be considered a honey, but too light to be considered brown.
As I stared at the woman though, just past the down sweep of her haircut, I noticed the woman’s jaw flex.
If it weren’t for that small, simple gesture, I probably would have walked out, thinking I had the wrong address or information. Natalie told me that Ryleigh put her studio up within the last month.
“Ryleigh,” I said quietly, still not one-hundred percent that was her, but wanting it to be true. My voice quietly echoed around the room. I was sure the echoing would go away as she hung more on the walls. As it was, the only print was a large one behind the desk. It was of a woman walking away from the camera. I squinted my eyes to focus on the subject and concluded it was Ryleigh. I wondered who took it.
“We’re closed. The studio doesn’t open for another week. You can call during normal business hours to set anything up.”
The words sounded forced.
“Ryles, we need to talk.” I took a hesitant step toward her.
This was four weeks too late.
The day after she left my apartment, I had gone over to hers only to find not only was she not there, but she’d changed her locks. When I tried calling, the number stated it was disconnected.
She took any and every means of communication and took them away from her.
Natalie yelled at me, figuring I’d done something wrong, and withheld information until finally she told me about this studio, earlier this morning.
“Some other time, Noah,” she said. My name on her lips was like a balms. Her turning toward me was even better.
She came out from behind the desk and my eyes immediately dropped to her stomach. My heart clenched when I saw her protruding tummy.
We did that.
When my eyes met hers again, she simply clenched her draw and raised her chin stubbornly.
I wasn’t giving up. Not giving up.
Not this time.
Not ever again.
“You left.”
She didn’t respond. Rather, she crossed her arms over her chest.
“I couldn’t get a hold of you. You changed your locks, were never home, changed your number. Fuck, Ryles, when were you going to talk to me about this?”
“Don’t make me out to be the bad guy, Noah.” I could see her temper starting to flare. I actually preferred it to the cold, detached Ryleigh I first encountered when I entered the building. “Do you know what you said to me? Do you, Noah?”
Yeah. I did.
And I fucking hated myself for it.
Ryleigh continued before I could say anything. Her voice cracked at the edge of where her temper met her tears. “So forgive me for trying to attempt to give you another chance, but then chickening out.” She held her arms out. “It’s what I do.”
I didn’t want her beating herself up. It hurt me when she did.
“This is what we do, Ryleigh,�
� I finally said. “We fight. But other than the ten minutes, literally ten minutes, we spend pissed at each other, what we have is pretty damn good.”
Her eyes dropped and her voice softened. I moved closer so I could hear her. “You lost. It had been a bad end to the playoffs and I didn’t want to further upset you.”
“We’d lost before, Ryleigh.” I stood directly in front of her now and I looked down at the crown of her head as she continued to star at the floor.
“It was the Calder Cup, Noah. You were understandably upset.”
“You’re projecting, Ryleigh. Was I upset about the game? Sure. But was I upset to find you in my apartment?” Needing my hands on her some way, I took her chin in my index finger and thumb and lifted her gaze back up to me. She still avoided my eyes, but she was closer. “Hell, no, Ryles. I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, because I do it too, but you take things I say and you twist them to fit whatever mood you’re feeling.
“So yeah, I was upset after the game. I was happy you were at the apartment.” I rubbed my thumb over her chin, still willing her eyes to meet mine. “I was confused when you left and even more confused to find a brownie that said ‘daddy’ in my garbage can, and I couldn’t call you because you were pissed at me. Understandably,” I added, giving her word back. I took a deep breath and spoke the words that had been weighing on me for damn near three months. “I haven’t apologized to you for the night of the party. I am so damn sorr—“
Ryleigh cut me off, her voice soft. “Noah?” Finally, God, finally, her eyes met mine. Already I could read her forgiveness the blues staring up at me.
She forgave me so damn easily. I was going to work hard for the rest of my life deserving that. I hoped I had that chance.
I moved my thumb over her chin again, urging her to continue.
“I need to hear your side of that night. What…” She frowned up at me. “What happened that night?”
I knew it was coming and she deserved to hear it from me. I brushed my hand from her chin to her hair, pulling her in to press a small kiss to her forehead before stepping away. I moved to her desk to stare at the picture of her. After a moment, I moved to sit on the corner of her desk.
“Jason had been saying things about you and I throughout the season. Pretty much from day one. It annoyed me, but eventually it just pissed me off. I guess… It felt like he was pushing things a step further at every time, all while tearing me down for finding something with you. Then that night was the tip of it all. You can ask Teague and Nick, they were right there. I got fed up with it, got drunk… I swear to god, Ryles, I didn’t kiss that woman.”
Ryleigh continued to stand where I left her, her arms crossed.
“You’re it, Ryleigh. Even if I wanted to move on, it’s you I see everywhere, in everyone’s face. I’m so damn lonely without you. God, Ryleigh, I’m so in love with you. Please come back to me.”
Still, she stood where she was.
“What’s going to happen when Jason eggs you on about marriage? Or kids…” She blushed when she realized what she said. “Ok, so we’ve got that covered.”
I felt the corner of my lips curve up. “Been there, done that. But I’d tell him to mind his own damn business. I won’t let anyone, anything, come between us again, Ryles. I promise.” I paused, letting her take that in, before I finished. “And about Denton.”
When I stood this time, Ryleigh walked to me, wrapping her arms around my waist and burying her head in my shoulder. The feel of her bump between us was new and I ached to put my hands on it.
“When I saw you in Texas, I was happier than I should have been. Hell, than I thought I could be to see someone. That was the week that everything finally clicked in place for me and that’s probably why everything that Jason said scared me. But I’m past that. Please don’t think I wasn’t happy to see you there.”
Slowly, I felt her smile against my shoulder.
“Ok.”
I closed my eyes in relief. It was going to be ok.
“I like your bike,” she mumbled into my sweatshirt.
I couldn’t stop the chuckle from her quick subject change. “That’s good. Too bad you can’t ride for a few more months.”
She pulled away enough to look up at me. “But it’s not like I won’t fit or anything.” She glanced down at her belly, putting her hands on the swell. I gave in and placed my hands first over hers, then slid them down to feel the firm mound.
“My bike, my rules. You don’t ride while pregnant.”
“That’s not exactly fair.” She put her hands on top of mine this time. “When I’m not pregnant, it’s going to be cold. And when it’s warm , we’re going to have an infant.” Her hands pressed into mine gently, as if I missed what the swell was.
We did this.
I glanced at the clock, remembering what I wanted to show her. “Except this one time.” I looked down into the face I couldn’t get out of my head.
Her frown was so Ryleigh. “What do you mean?”
“I need you to see something. And we have fifteen minutes. Now, I tend to say things that piss you off,” I teased and this time, instead of getting upset, Ryleigh smiled shyly; I absently rubbed our hands in small circles, “but I need to make sure you see this. And the only way to do that is if you go with me.”
She tried to step back and cross her arms between us, but I wasn’t giving up my hold on her tiny bump; I slid my hands to her hips and pulled her back to me.
“Well, if I can’t ride your bike any other time, I really shouldn’t now.”
There was teasing in her voice, too.
It was going to be ok. Finally, everything was going to be ok.
“My bike—“
“Yeah, yeah, your rules,” she finished. “Why can’t we take the car?” she asked seriously.
“Ryleigh.” I lifted a brow, my face straight. She wasn’t serious. “I don’t fit in your car. And we can’t leave the bike out front. We can leave the car, though.”
Her smile was slow and sure. “Fine.” This time when she stepped away, I let her. I watched as she grabbed her keys and head for the door. “Well, let’s get going.”
Ten minutes later, he pulled the bike to a slow stop in front of his complex and helped me off the bike. My little belly hadn’t gotten in the way so much that I couldn’t enjoy the press of my body against his, and press I did, my arms wrapped around him tight and my hands linked together in his hoodie pocket.
Noah held his hand out to me and when I took it, walked me to his apartment.
Right when we walked in, I noticed the walls were newly bare and there were boxes lining the walls. I knew that Nick had moved out, but it looked like the entire apartment was being cleared out.
Before I could ask, though, Noah pulled me to the living room and stopped us in front of the television. He turned on ESPN.
He kept his hand in mine while he lifted our linked arm above my head and settled behind m, his arm crossed in front of me. When the commercial broke to SportsCenter, he pulled me tightly to him.
“San Diego Enforcers fans, are you ready for this new grinding, power forward?” announced the anchor as a still of Noah taking a shot on ice popped up in a box beside his head. “Noah Prescott, winner of the Les Cunningham award as well as the Jack A. Butterfield trophy this year in the AHL, has re-signed his contract with the Enforcer organization with the intent of playing in San Diego next season. Here’s a clip—“
Everything else went in one ear and then back out the other.
I didn’t know what to say.
I was proud of him, yes. So very proud of him. I knew he was capable of being called up to San Diego, knew he had the passion and drive to make it at the next level. I wanted that and more for him.
But this meant he was leaving.
He was leaving for good.
When Noah turned off the TV, I missed his warmth at my back. He turned me to face him, though, and the grin on his face was unmistakable. “Isn’t that awesom
e?”
I nodded, forcing a smile on my face and trying not to cry. “It is, Noah. I’m so happy for you.” I pulled him into a hug before stepping away and crossing my arms. “I guess that means we’ll have to discuss custody and… and that kind of stuff.”
I couldn’t believe I’d been so stupid. He’d come back only to tell me he was leaving.
His smiles at the studio, his hands possessively over our baby.
He was still leaving.
“Ryleigh.” Noah interrupted my thoughts. I swallowed and moved my tear-filling eyes up to his. “I’m not asking—“
“I understand, Noah,” I said, breaking in. “Really, I do.”
“No.” He shook his head and the bastard was smiling. “I don’t really think you do. Sit tight.”
As if I could go anywhere.
I could go to my apartment, but as some point I had to go get my car. How was I going to do that without Noah?
He came back into the room holding two small paper bags. He lifted them both up in front of him. “I’m an excellent gift wrapper. Pick one.”
I frowned. What game was he playing?
“Pick one,” he said again, grinning like a loon. He lifted the bags up slightly.
Uncrossing one arm, I pointed to the one in his left hand. He held the bag out to me and I took it. Still frowning, I unfolded the top and peered inside.
“Oh,” I gasped, pulling out the tiny brown onesie that resembled an Enforcers’ jersey. The number on it was ‘eleven’, and the back read ‘PRESCOTT.’
“This is really cute.”
I didn’t notice the tear tracking down my cheek until Noah reach out to rub it away. He then handed me the other bag. “Now this one.”
He handed me the second bag and took the onesie from me. Inside the second bag, I could feel a heavier, more solid object. My breath caught when I looked in and saw the small velvet box. I glanced up at Noah before reaching into the bag to pull it out, my heart pounding in my chest as my eyes filled. “Noah?”
He took the box from me, the most serious look I’ve ever seen on his face, and opened it with a snap. Inside was a three stone white-gold ring. “I’ve come to know you more than I’ve ever known any other woman, and in half the time.” His hazel eyes didn’t leave mine. “I like that things are out of place in your world. I like that you keep me on my toes. I love your passion. I love doing nothing with you but all the same, I love taking you out and showing you off. I love how you have an opinion on every game I play but that you know me enough to not voice them until I ask.” To this, he grinned his crooked grin.
