Winter Baby Bump & Grind (Seasons in Montana: Winter)

5. Melissa

five

Melissa

T he apartment turns out to be a bust. By the time Kelsey and I turn up to view it, the landlord informs me that a tentative agreement to rent the place out has already been struck, but I can get a good look at the space in case another unit opens up soon.

While the apartment looks livable, there’s something cold and soulless about the beige-on-beige utilitarian decor and layout. It lacks the bold colors, and quiet, simple style of Ryan’s re-modeled oasis. I smile and nod when prodded, making encouraging noises when Kelsey looks my way.

But the second we’re alone, she rounds on me.

“You hate it.” She leans against the Formica counter. “What’s missing?”

Ryan .

“Nothing, it’s just… a vibe.” I run my hands along the countertop and lift my gaze to the north-facing window, disappointed with the limited view of the next building over. “There’s not much of a view. And there’s no hot tub.”

“Ohmygod, this hot tub.” Kelsey throws her hands up, and I shrug.

“It was such a good deal, Kels. I could really see myself settling down in that space. Bright, airy, wood paneled flooring. A bathroom that’s larger than the closet in this one. I should’ve known it was too good to be true.”

My big sis gives me a tight-lipped smile but doesn’t delve into any of the lectures I would’ve received if I had been speaking to my actual family. Which reminds me that my mom’s been hounding me for my new mailing address. She’d launch herself into full lecture mode if she only knew the mess I’d made of making my housing arrangements.

“I know. But Ryan’s place has all the same characteristics that I was looking for.” I busy myself with examining the kitchen cupboards and trying to imagine where I’d put my espresso machine that wouldn’t eat up the entire limited counter space. “He said I could stay as long as I wanted.”

“And how long is that, exactly?”

Forever .

I shrug, but when I look up and meet Kelsey’s gaze, her face tells me she already knows the words I’ve held back.

“I know you’ve never been able to put Ryan in your rear-view mirror. Somehow, you two are like magnets, always drawn toward one another. But there are times when it’s necessary to make tough calls about what’s in your past and what’s in your future. Especially if you’re looking to move forward with your life.”

I snort. “Easy for you to say. You’ve known from day one what you wanted out of life. A business to build, a community to contribute to, and a family of your own. That drive and leadership quality you have is what made you an amazing sorority president, and it's what will make you a fantastic business owner. Hell, we’re not even thirty yet, and you’re halfway to making every dream of yours come true.”

Kelsey throws an arm around my shoulders and leads me into the empty living area. “Well, not everything has gone according to plan. My love life is dead, so you’ve got a leg up on me in that department.”

I grin at her. “It wouldn’t be dead if you didn’t terrorize half the men in this town.”

“I do not terrorize them,” she huffs. “I just call it like I see it and always have. If the hometown boys can’t handle it, well, so be it then. Just more reason for me to sign up for that online matchmaking service I’ve seen advertised around town.”

“Good luck. All I’m saying is you intimidate most men. They practically quake in their boots.” I chew on my bottom lip and shoot her a sideways glance. “Thought Ryan was going to crumble under your interrogation today.”

“That? Pfft, no.” She waves a hand. “That wasn’t an interrogation. That was a friendly conversation between old acquaintances. But we’re not here to talk about me. We’re working on you. Get clear on what it is you want and what you came here for.” She turns, places her hands on my shoulders, and looks me square in the eyes. “Was it really for a fresh start?”

“Yes, but I also wanted to help you, and I wanted a second chance.”

Her gaze searches mine. “With Ryan?”

“Among some things, yeah.”

“I got the impression today that he doesn’t know the whole story about why you didn’t return to complete your degree.”

I couldn’t return, couldn’t face Ryan so soon after what happened.

I wince and pick at imaginary lint on my sweater. “The topic hasn’t come up.”

“If you actually want to try a relationship with him again, he needs to know, Mel. He deserves to know.”

“I know, I know. I just wanted to be able to get myself all set up and on my way here, you know? Take things one at a time. First, sort my life, then, figure things out with Ryan. But he found me in the snow the day I arrived, and it was like kismet. And you know how it is with us.”

Kelsey sighs and shakes her head. “Magnets. You can’t help but attract each other.”

“Anyway, I thought I’d be able to do something good and meaningful with my life here. Find success in ways I wasn’t able to back home. When I helped my cousin Jocelyn with her business, it got me thinking about my own strengths, you know?”

“Yeah? What do you think those are?”

“I’m creative, personable, and high-energy. I can be entertaining, and I have a lot of interests, which I know means I’m a little more jack of all trades, master of none. But, so far, I’ve been focusing on learning the customer-facing portion of our business, which is necessary, of course. And it’s been great. But working the coffee tent in the Winter Market, among the artisans and independent shops, I realized we could do more. Be more impactful, more involved. And I think I know just how to do it.”

Kelsey straightens and her brows lift. “Okay, you want a little more skin in the game. I hear you. Got anything in mind?”

“I do, but it’s going to require partnering with the local community, businesses, and artisans.”

“Why don’t you tell me about it on the way back, then?”

Relief winds through me that she’s willing to give me a chance. I should’ve known that I could trust her, but too many times before, my family brushed aside anything I had to say as if my contributions weren’t of value because I didn’t possess the education levels they do, and I have historically struggled to focus on any particular project through its completion.

But I’m learning that the people of Wintervale, and the sisterhood I’d forged at the university are able to give me something my own blood can’t—acceptance and trust.

For the first time in my life, I feel as if I’m being freed and told I can fly. I can try something different and have support rather than face constant doubt and discouraging discussions that always wound up leaving me feeling stupid and dejected.

So, all the way back to Ryan’s, I talk her through the ideas I have to turn Brewbirds Coffeehouse into more than just a place to get a cup of joe. My vision for the coffeehouse was to transform it into a community cornerstone—where people can gather, learn, teach, be creative, and build something that belongs to them.

And us.

“What’s all this?” I gawk at the full three-course meal that Ryan’s laid out on the table when I get back. The fragrant and familiar aroma of soy sauce, dashi, and ginger envelops me as soon as I enter the dining room, making my stomach gurgle with hunger.

“Dinner.”

“This isn’t dinner. This is a feast. ”

Everything is displayed just so, arranged attractively so that I’m already reaching for the edamame and leaning over to inhale the soothing scent of miso soup. Nearby, there’s gyoza, marinated beef, neatly packed bowls of steamed rice, and a couple of veggie side dishes.

“Well, I know Japanese food is your favorite so I just thought…” he trails off, swiping at the light sheen of sweat on his brow.

My eyes rove over him as I chew on the soybean, admiring the open neck of his gray henley and the way his forearms look beneath the rolled-up sleeves of his buffalo flannel.

“A man who cooks is something a girl could get used to.”

He flashes me a smile, and the effect is stunning. He looks about as decadent as the meal he’d prepared, and part of me wonders if this could be our life. A cozy and comfortable entwined existence, marked by passion-filled nights built on a foundation of friendship.

But would it be enough?

Could knowing, and understanding, and seeing the evidence of Ryan care for me satisfy the ache I feel inside?

“No, seriously. What’s the occasion?” I ask, lowering myself into the chair he pulls out for me.

His eyes dart to one side and there’s a tick working in his cheek as he nudges the small plates in my direction. Gruffly, he nods at the food. “Everyone’s gotta eat. So, eat. Itidakimasu. I’ll get the salmon and the maki rolls. I know they’re you’re favorite.”

I stare at the spread—the time and care that went into creating it—and snatch his wrist, preventing him from retreating back into the kitchen.

“That can’t be the only reason.”

His warm amber eyes turn soft and molten as he looks at me, drinking in the features of my face. His jaw clenches, the tick working as his Adam’s apple bobs up and down.

Just say it . Tell me to stay. Say you don’t want me to go.

I know talking about emotions doesn’t come easy to Ryan. They never have, but it’s never stopped me from wanting to hear them.

I slide one hand over his heart. “You can tell me how you feel.”

He drops his forehead to mine, eyes drifting shut as he releases a shuddering breath.

Then he leans over to plant a kiss at my temple, and I think that’s it. He’ll leave it at that and go get the last of the dishes he prepared.

But he surprises me when he speaks into my hair, his voice so low I almost miss it.

“If my nights with you are numbered, I want to make the most of it.”

Something sweet and tender unfurls low in my belly, and I twist my fingers into his shirt as my heart races in my chest. I slide my other hand under his Henley, feeling how his stomach muscles bunch and clench under my fingertips. Another unsteady breath whooshes out of him and power surges through me. Knowing that he has never been able to resist me makes me feel heady as I trace the muscles I’ve committed to memory.

“My nights with you have never been numbered,” I say.

“Okay,” he mumbles, eyes smoldering with heat. “Great. So don’t rent the apartment.”

“I didn’t.”

He leans in for a quick, soft, teasing kiss.

“Don’t move out.”

“I only went to view the apartment because Kelsey insisted. I wasn’t really planning on moving.”

“Stay,” he murmurs against my mouth.

“Okay.”

Then his voice drops to a low murmur. “Ever.”

I draw back, my fingers poised to brush over his nipple, but I’m certain that I haven’t heard him right.

“What?”

And the spell shatters as he straightens and bolts toward the kitchen muttering something about forgetting the salmon.

I jump up to follow, calling out, “No, wait. I didn’t hear you, Ryan. What’d you say?”

When I walk into the kitchen, he pulls the grilled fish out from under the broiler, cursing as he swings it around to the countertop. It passes just under my nose and the overpowering combined scent of onions, garlic, and fish slams into me, hard. It makes my stomach roil violently and I stagger back, pressing my hand to my mouth.

Oh, no.

No, no, no.

“Mel? What’s wrong?” Ryan drops the tray onto the counter with a loud clatter and rushes to my side as I spin and brace myself over the trash can. Ryan’s panicked voice rises above the sound of my gagging. “What’s going on?”

And in a few minutes, I know.

I’m pregnant.

Again.