Chapter 30
Scarlett
As soon as Ryan opens the window and starts taking big, deep breaths, I know it’s my time to go. I have no idea what any of this means for us, but he deserves the space and time to process it all. I’ve had five years; he’s had about five minutes. And while I wish he had rushed to me and held me and told me that none of it mattered, deep down, I knew that was never going to happen.
If I’m being honest with myself, I buried the loss. Yes, I had talked to Dianne about it, but after the initial few meetings, we focused much more on my writing than anything else. That’s how I wanted it.
When I started writing again, I had a vague thought that if I had been able to have that baby, he or she would be in preschool. It felt fitting that I was getting back into it then. There are plenty of stories of mothers going back to work when their kids go to school. I read a lot of them in my darker, lonelier moments on the internet.
But when you didn’t actually have a kid, it gets tricky. How much time is enough to have mourned something you didn’t even know you wanted until you lost it? Was I mourning the loss of a pregnancy, or writing, or Ryan? Did I spend too much time away? Is there a time limit on these things?
Right now, it hurts so badly that it feels like even five more years wouldn’t have been enough.
I’m almost to my car when I hear a door bang open behind me. No sooner do I rest my hand on the door handle of my car than I hear Ryan’s voice, shouting.
“What the fuck, Scarlett?”
Red-faced with hair mussed from running his hands through it, he’s jogging down the steps that lead to the entrance of his building. My heart doesn’t get the message that his body language is giving off. He’s pissed as hell, but it still soars with gratitude that he came after me.
Breathless, he slows to a stop in front of me. He’s so tall, I have to turn my face up toward his, and the waning sun casts a glare in my vision. Squinting, I shade my eyes with my hand.
“You left.” He spits the words out. “Again.”
I wince at that. It’s fair, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. “I didn’t think you wanted me there.”
He throws his hands in the air in a gesture of pure frustration. “What the hell gave you that impression?”
Swallowing hard, I put all of my energy into remaining calm. It’s not his fault I dropped a bomb on him today. He has every right to be upset. “You seemed agitated.”
An incredulous huff escapes him, and he runs his hands through his hair again. The need to fold myself into him and sob into his chest rises so violently within me that I stagger back. My ass hits the door of my car, and it takes all my strength not to slump to the ground.
His dark gaze locks on mine, so intense, it warms me far more than the sunlight. “I’m not agitated with you.” Something unreadable crosses his face. “Well, I am now. You can’t keep running when things get hard, Scarlett.”
“Jesus, Ryan,” I yell. Apparently, I’ve reached the end of my ability to remain calm and understanding. “Twist the goddamn knife, why don’t you?”
“And why shouldn’t I?” His voice is deceptively calm and measured. But there’s a storm brewing there. I can see it under his dark glasses. “Fuck, Scarlett. I can’t keep watching your back as you walk out when things get hard. If I have to throw a knife at it to get your attention, then I will.”
I blink rapidly, not sure if I want to laugh or cry. What comes out of me is some kind of cackle-sob combination that sounds more like an animal dying than a human emotion. Which actually feels appropriate. I am just an animal, and I feel like I’m dying. Surely even death doesn’t hurt this bad.
“How dare you,” I say when I can find my words again. “I admitted I made a mistake. I said I was wrong. I’ve said it a million times since I saw you at Anastasios, and I guess I’ll say it a million more if that’s what it takes. But if you think for one second that I did any of this for me—any of it—you’ve lost your mind. Do you think I liked being alone for five years with only my agent and my therapist to talk to? Do you think it was fun for me to bleed while watching men in expensive suits with dollar signs for eyes make major decisions about my career without my input? Do you think I laughed as I blacklisted myself, lost my best friends because of it, and had to come to terms with the fact that you loved me so much that you’d throw your own career away just to be with me? I walked away for you , Ryan. So you could at least have one thing left when the dust settled.” I’m screaming now, tears streaming down my cheeks again and landing on the pavement in front of me.
I want him to explode back at me. For some reason, I think it might be cathartic to scream at each other again, like we did outside of that tapas place. But he doesn’t. Instead, he nods.
“You’re right,” he says simply. And with those two words, I can physically feel my heart breaking in two. I’m right. I was right that he’d end his career for me, and I was right to walk away.
It takes all my effort not to crumple into a ball right there on top of my tears on the pavement and sob. I was never a crier before this. I think I can count on one hand the number of times I cried before Ryan came back into my life. And yet, now it’s like all of those emotions have burst out of wherever I buried them and are lingering right on the surface, ready to take over at any second.
But Ryan rests his hands on my shoulders, dragging them down my upper arms. Goose bumps come to life under my sleeves at his touch, and when he rests his forehead on mine, I let out a relieved breath. I didn’t even know this is what I needed, but he did. He always knows.
“You’re right. I would have given up everything to be with you,” he whispers, his breath tickling my lips. “I would have done it then, and I’d do it now, and I wouldn’t regret it for one single second. You’re worth far more than a job, Scarlett. I wish you had let me show you that.”
And just like that, the weight of it is gone. I hadn’t even realized how much I was carrying until he took it from me. Maybe it really is going to be okay.
Ryan folds me into a hug, cradling my shoulders with one long arm and my head with another, his fingers weaving into my hair and holding my head against his chest. He smells so good, like almonds and vanilla and paper. And that’s what does me in, that scent that feels at once so old and so new, like one chapter into the next. I clutch at his back as I wrap my arms around him and let go of every tear I had been holding back. He just holds me through it all.
By the time I’ve let it out, the sun has almost dipped behind his building. Everything is golden and beautiful and warm. I tip my head up to look at Ryan, and even though I must look like a goblin, he smiles down at me and rubs a gentle thumb against my cheek.
“I have to admit, this is a plot twist I didn’t see coming.” He purses his lips against a smile.
“Ryan Whitlock,” I say on a disbelieving laugh. “Was that a pun?”
“I thought you’d appreciate the dark humor.”
If only he knew how much. This is the furthest thing from funny, but if he can joke about it, maybe there’s hope for us. For me.
“But that’s all it is. Just a plot twist,” he continues. He kisses my forehead. One of his hands snakes its way into my hair again so his fingers can massage the nape of my neck reassuringly. “I spent five years without you, Scarlett. I’m not letting you go again. We can both be sad about this and still love each other. We can talk about babies…” He raises a questioning eyebrow but laughs at the face I make. “Or not yet. There’s space and time for all of that and more, if you’ll only stop running away from me.”
Filling my lungs with the spring air, I let the mix of sharp, cut grass and delicate, new flowers reawaken something inside me. Something new, reborn, perfectly symbolic. It was winter, and now it’s spring. Everything is starting over, both new and cyclical. Even me. Even us.
“You still love me?” I ask.
A soft smile tugs at his lips, and he shakes his head slowly. “ Love isn’t a strong enough word.”
“Show me, then,” I demand. And he does. His lips meet mine in a kiss at once passionate and unhurried, like he has all the time in the world to kiss me in any way he wants.
When he pulls away, he laces his fingers through mine and leads me back into his condo where we spend the rest of the night showing each other how we feel, over and over again.