Love Found in California (The Washington Triplets) (2 page)

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.

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.

“I just wanted to see how your day went today.” His voice was quiet, but confident and kind all at once. He drew a hand up to his neck and rubbed away the stresses of the day I assumed. I realized that I was imagining more than the muscled sculpted arm stretched up around his neck and that I needed clear concentration on my breaths.

“It was good, great actually. I have the first phase of the Darrin Project done too.” I stopped myself before I babbled on just because of the nerves that were overtaking me. I have never been an over-talker, but in his presence, I felt all kinds of stupid.

“Wow, impressive. I knew you were the right person for this job,” he said with care, but then he winked at me and even though I was sure it was a casual occurrence for him, it made me feel faint. “As you can see, everyone bolts right on the dot.” He breathed out a groan that sounded like a rough laugh before he continued. “But it’s tradition for me to take the new person out for tacos around the corner.”

“Oh, um,” I literally stuttered, begging myself to not be my normal shy self. I didn’t know anyone else here except the people I’ve met at this office. Now my boss, who I clearly was attracted to, was asking me out. I’d been here for over a week with barely any other interaction with a person. I don’t know if I was more lonely than usual or if I knew this was my chance to be someone different, someone who didn’t carry her past all these miles away from home with her.

Interrupting my internal quarrel, Ryan pressed me. “I won’t take no for an answer. They have the best fish tacos around. I promise you won’t be disappointed.”

Running my hand through my damp, long brown hair, I sigh and remember that he was right; I wasn’t disappointed. Still today he has not disappointed me, but I know in my heart that I’m disappointing him. He took chances on me and now I’m just not sure what I owe him … allowing him into my darkest places. That hardly seems fair to anyone, most of all Ryan. The ringing of my desk phone brings me back to the attention of my computer screen.

“Hi, Mikaela Washington,” I answer professionally.

“I think you mean Mikaela Chambers, don’t you?” Ryan’s light and airy tone travels through the phone, covering me like a warm blanket. I don’t hear any anger or even frustration.

“Ryan,” I sigh out breathily.

“Yes, love, it’s me. You okay?”

“I-I’m fine. I just forgot you were leaving today. I thought, thought
―
” I stumble to get the words just right. “You never leave without telling me in some way in the morning.”

“Mik, I know,” he hesitates for a brief deafening moment, “I should have woke you, but I did kiss your forehead before I left.” As if on command, I run my fingers over my forehead trying to remember his lips, but no memory comes to mind.

“Oh.” I draw out the ‘o’ sound longer than needed to try to find my way around this conversation. Biting down on the top of my pen, working it between my teeth, I think of what to say next. The silence between us stretches, but I don’t know how to fix this, no matter how much I’d like to.