Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
ELIZABETH
Confessions Over Turkey Sandwiches
There are millions of stars out tonight.
Ancient stories being told through a myriad constellations dotting the inky expanse of sky.
It always makes me realize just how small we are when compared to the totality of the entire universe.
I wonder what my love story would look like if it were written in the stars.
How bright points of light connect two soulmates destined to love one another for eternity. Forever love, I always called it.
The season is on its last legs of summer, with autumn quickly approaching.
It’s my favorite time of year, when the temperatures cool off and the leaves turn color.
Autumnal maple leaves remind me of my husband’s eyes.
The golden-copper color that has fascinated me since the day we met when we were nine years old.
Four decades worth of love and friendship.
Fourteen thousand six hundred days. Three hundred and fifty thousand hours. So many memories.
Ryder comes to me, his strong arms banding around me from behind.
The scents of sandalwood and citrus from his cologne mix with the earthiness of the nature that surrounds us.
I lean back against him. So strong and solid.
We have always fit like two pieces of a puzzle.
My body melts into him, and I just breathe.
I’ve missed him so much. My heart aches with images of every single moment we were together.
Every kiss. Every touch. Every time he called me his sweet Elizabeth and told me that he loved me.
“Dance with me,” Ryder says, and desire spirals through me at his simple request.
I reach one arm up, wrapping it around his neck, my fingers gliding through the silky black-brown hair at his nape.
His large hand gracefully glides around my hip to rest on my stomach, and arousal coils tightly.
I can feel the vibrations in his chest as he begins to sing “Helium” to me. The ballad of our love story.
As he hums the final notes, I can feel him fading away. I turn sharply in his arms and reach for him, but my hands touch emptiness.
“I will always love you,” Ryder says, his voice growing more distant.
“No! Please! Don’t leave me!” I beg him and drop to my knees on the damp ground, my arms outstretched, desperate for him.
My dreams are the only time I see him now, and I’m not ready to let him go.
But it’s too late.
“Mom.”
My eyelids fly open, my breaths coming in sharp pants that burn my lungs. I rake shaky hands over my face wet with tears that I wept in my sleep. Every night is like this. Every night I dream of Ryder, just to have him torn from my arms when I wake. It’s cruel torment.
“I’m okay,” I choke out, wiping my face dry with the backs of my hands. “What time is it?”
“Four.”
Christopher’s worried face comes into view when I ease into a sitting position. Sleeping on the couch is a common occurrence. I just can’t bring myself to stay in the bed I shared with Ryder, so I usually come out here or go to the guest bedroom.
“You were crying in your sleep again.”
Moving the quilt off my legs, I pat the space beside me. When he sits down, I pull him into my arms. He may be seventeen, but he’s still my baby boy.
“I promise I’m all right. Just a bad dream.”
His arms band around me, and he snuggles against my side. “About Dad?”
Blood thrums through my veins, and it feels like it wants to bleed out of my chest. And damn these tears that start to fall. Will there ever be a day that I don’t cry and my heart breaks all over again whenever I think of Ryder?
I play with a curl of Christopher’s hair, avoiding his question. My children don’t need to hear that their mother has nightmares about their father.
“I’m sorry if I woke you.”
“Couldn’t sleep.”
“Bad dreams, too?” I ask.
Settling back against the cushions, I drape the quilt over the both of us.
His face brushes the apple of my shoulder when he tips it back and gazes up at me. It’s usually the other way around. He’s so tall, I have to look up at him.
“I’m really sorry for being a jerk and upsetting you.”
Out of my three children, Christopher’s heart is the biggest. He cares deeply, which means his heart is also the easiest to bruise. He’s very much like Fallon in that way.
I kiss the crown of his head. “It’s not me who deserves that apology.”
“I know,” he mumbles.
I’ve said my peace. I know he’ll do the right thing.
We go quiet when we hear the distant hoot of the great horned owl.
It often visits at some point in the middle of the night.
Toward the end of January or early February, they duet during courtship.
It wouldn’t matter the time of night, Ryder would join me on the back veranda, and we would cuddle together against the cold while we listened to their love song.
“You laughed tonight.”
Deep grooves furrow my forehead. “I laugh all the time.”
“Not really. Not like you used to with Dad. But you did tonight. You were happy. Fallon made you happy.”
My instincts warn me to tread carefully.
My feelings for Fallon are confusing, to say the least, and I haven’t yet gotten my footing when it comes to him.
However, it doesn’t matter what I want. My children come first, and I won’t do anything, regardless of how much I want to, if it will negatively affect them.
“We told you the stories about how Fallon saved me. He was a really good friend. Not only to me, but to your father and Uncle Julien and Elijah.”
Christopher sits up, taking the quilt with him. His green eyes, so much like mine, sear into me.
“It’s okay if you want to be more than friends with him.”
I take a shallow breath. Pause. Try to form the right thing to say. He’s not a kid anymore, no matter how much I want to bubble wrap him in his childhood. He understands things. Sees more than he should. They all do.
“Chris—”
The blanket falls to the floor when he pops off the couch. What he says next tears open the gaping wound of guilt that never gets a chance to fully heal.
“I don’t want you to cry anymore. I want you to laugh, like you did tonight. Dad wanted that, too. He wanted you to be with Fallon.”
Wait. What?
Christopher walks out of the living room and into the kitchen, and I’m hot on his heels.
Not turning on the lights, he heads straight for the fridge, grabbing the package of deli turkey meat, Swiss cheese, and the bottle of spicy brown mustard.
“Want one?” he asks, setting everything down on the counter island, then grabbing the loaf of bread from the breadbox.
“Sure.”
Might as well eat now since I’ll be meeting Julien for our morning run in an hour.
I take a seat on one of the stools. They’ve been witness to countless breakfasts and late-night heart-to-hearts, like the one I’m about to force on my son.
“Why did you say that Ryder wanted me to be with Fallon?”
Christopher meticulously layers slices of turkey in neat folds over one slice of bread. His avoidance is as loud as the hum of the refrigerator.
I rap my knuckles against the quartz countertop to get his attention. He doesn’t look up. Instead, he places cheese over the turkey, adjusting each piece as if their precise placement is critical.
“I need to understand what you meant.”
His shoulders rise and fall in an exaggerated motion. “I’m just saying it’s okay for you to start dating.”
Gentling my tone, I reply, “I appreciate that, and I love you for wanting me to be happy, but it’s not up to you or anyone else to make that decision for me.”
He glances up. “You shouldn’t be alone.”
“I’m not alone. I have you and Charlotte and Marcus. I have Julien and his family. Daniel and Drew. Meredith. Aurora?—”
His gaze darkens with something unyielding. “You know that’s not what I meant,” he interjects, slapping the second piece of bread onto the sandwich and pressing it down flat with his hand.
He puts it on a paper towel and slides it to me, then starts assembling another sandwich.
“I’m not a kid anymore, so please don’t speak to me like one.” Finished making his, he takes a bite. “Do you like him?”
“Who? Fallon?”
He nods his head as he chews.
“Well…yeah.”
And that’s as far of an explanation as I’m willing to give.
“Then don’t live in what-ifs ,” Christopher says.
That catapults me back in time when I said something very similar to Ryder the night I first kissed him.
“What about Jayson?” Ryder asks.
“I love Jayson. But I love you, too. So much. I need you, Ryder. I need to know our ‘what if.’ Things can’t continue the way they are now.”
Christopher takes his half-eaten sandwich and kisses me on the cheek on his way out. He halts under the archway and glances back.
“Don’t be afraid to love someone else. You’ve never been a coward. You’re the strongest person I know.”
The sincerity in his voice leaves me momentarily speechless.
I want to tell him that he’s too young to understand the complexities of adult relationships, but he’s right.
I’ve been running on autopilot for so long, prioritizing everything but my own happiness.
It’s time I take that leap into the unknown.
No matter how much it terrifies the crap out of me.