Chapter 27
Melanie
Ryan wasn’t home yet when I got to our house. A light snow had started falling just before I left the office, and I decided to park in the garage so I wouldn’t have to worry about scraping snow from my windshield before I drove back to the condo later tonight.
I entered the house through the service door connected to the garage, which opened up into the combined laundry and mud room.
Dropping my purse on the bench, I unzipped my boots and left them on the rubber mat underneath, before hanging my coat and scarf on one of the hooks mounted on the wall.
One of Ryan’s baseball hats was hanging on one side, and one of his hooded sweatshirts was hanging on the other.
The hoodie was one of his favorites – a gift from Grady several years ago – featuring a picture of golf cart and the words, “We ride at dawn.”
I ran my hand down the well-worn sleeve, the material softened by hundreds if not thousands of washings after all this time.
Before I even registered what I was doing, I lifted it off the hook and buried my face in the fabric.
The scent of Ryan’s cologne – the same one he’d worn for probably ten years now – was deeply embedded in the fibers.
I’d always heard that smell is the most likely of the five senses to trigger our memories, and at that moment, I literally held the proof of that fact in my hands.
My mind was flooded with memories of Ryan, one after another, until tears filled my eyes and I had to blink rapidly to keep them from falling.
I knew he would be home any minute, and I didn’t want him to see that I’d been upset.
I used the end of the sleeve to carefully dab under my eyes, then hung the sweatshirt back on the hook and took a deep breath to compose myself.
When I stepped into the kitchen, I was struck by the oddest sensation.
This was my home, and every inch of it was permanently imprinted in my brain, and in my heart.
Somehow, though, I almost felt out of place as I glanced around the familiar space.
Nothing had changed, yet everything felt different.
Shaking off my strange mood, I crossed to the refrigerator and pulled out the container of sauce.
I made a large batch every few months, enough to make several quarts, which I then froze in mason jars to use later.
I stuck it in the microwave to heat it up a little, then got the box of lasagna noodles out of the pantry.
When I had the time, I liked to make my own pasta, but that didn’t happen very often, so store-bought would be fine for tonight.
After filling a large pot with water and adding a generous dash of salt, I covered it and put it on to boil, then pulled out the milk, butter, and flour that I would need for the béchamel sauce.
I was slowly whisking the flour into the melted butter to make the roux when Ryan got home. My shoulders tensed at the sound of the overhead garage door opening and then closing a minute or so later. There’s no need to be nervous, I reminded myself.
“This isn’t actually your third date, Melanie Jane. You’ve made thousands of meals for the man over the years, so quit acting like a fool,” I muttered under my breath, giving the roux an extra vigorous stir.
Ryan stepped into the kitchen moments later without even taking the time to remove his coat. He stood in the doorway staring at me, and just as the butterflies in my stomach began flapping around again, his lips stretched into a wide, welcoming smile.
“It is so good to have you here when I get home. Just the sight of your SUV in the garage made me happy.”
He set two grocery bags on the center island, then crossed over to the stove and pressed a kiss to my temple as he looked over my shoulder to see what I was doing.
“I’ve been thinking about this dinner all day. I got the Italian sausage and the ground beef, along with the mozzarella and parmesan. I got stuff to make a salad, too, and some cannoli for dessert.”
He reached into the lower cabinet and grabbed the large skillet, then opened the packages of meat and started browning it while I warmed the milk to add to the roux.
The pasta water finally came to a boil, so he added the noodles while I was whisking away at the creamy sauce as it simmered and thickened. I turned off the burner, then added the seasonings and parmesan and gave it a final stir.
Between the two of us, it didn’t take long to get everything ready so that I could start layering it in the large baking dish.
We chatted about our respective days at work as Ryan prepared the salad, while I washed the pots and skillet we’d used, and wiped down the cooktop.
I glanced at the timer on the oven as I dried my hands on a paper towel. “The lasagna needs to bake for about twenty more minutes, so by the time it rests for a bit, it’s going to be a while before we eat. Do you want to find something to watch on TV, or would you rather talk?”
“Let’s talk,” he said with a slight smile. I nodded, then he reached for my hand and led me into the living room.
I sat down on the couch, and he sat next to me.
Not quite close enough to touch, but close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body.
Ryan had always been like a furnace, which worked out well for me since I was usually cold, and I had to resist the urge to lean into him and relish in his warmth.
“I talked to Garrett and Tanner this afternoon,” he told me.
“They asked how we were doing, and I hope it’s all right that I told them that we were going to counselling to work things out.
I didn’t go into any details, of course, but I did tell them that I’m committed to making up for all the bullshit I’ve put you through, and that I wanted to make it up to them as well. ”
“What did they say?”
He offered me a glimpse of a smile, then shrugged. “Garrett didn’t pull any punches and told me the best way to make it up to them was to get my head out of my ass. Tanner agreed with him and added that they would be happy as long as I made you happy again.”
I ducked my head to hide my smile. Our boys really were something else.
“They mentioned that their fraternity is going to partner with one of the organizations that helps makes houses accessible for wounded veterans and those with disabilities who have low or fixed incomes. They didn’t ask, but I would really like to help, not only because it’s a worthy cause, but it will also give me a chance to spend quality time with them.
It’s been way too long since I’ve done that.
I wanted to run it by you first though, before I offered. ”
“It’s a wonderful idea, and I think the boys will be thrilled. I’m sure the organization could use someone with your expertise to make sure the work is done properly, too.
“From what Garrett said, they will be spending one or two Saturdays a month working with the other volunteers. I don’t want to commit to that unless you’re sure that me being gone that often won’t be a problem.”
I shook my head sadly. “A couple of Saturdays a month working for such a great cause is worlds apart from being gone almost every evening and every weekend with Mitch. I don’t want you to think you have to stay by my side every minute. I would never expect that, or even want that, honestly.”
“I just don’t want you to think that I’m falling back into my old habits,” he admitted.
“I appreciate that, but I also don’t want you to feel as if you have to walk on eggshells around me. I don’t want you to feel as if you have to ask my permission to do things. Communication and balance, remember?”
He reached over and gently squeezed my knee. “I remember. Promise me that if at any time you feel neglected, or taken for granted, that you’ll tell me. Use those ‘I feel’ statements that Kim told us about.”
He gave me a sly smile and raised the pitch of his voice to a falsetto as he said, “Ryan, I feel like kicking you in the balls because you’re ignoring me, or Ryan, I feel like you’re being an asshole again.”
I laughed and shoved his shoulder playfully. “That’s definitely not how those statements are supposed to work.”
“Eh, probably not, but I can guarantee you’d get my attention.”
“And my voice doesn’t sound like that,” I pouted.
He leaned forward and booped my nose. “I love it when you wrinkle your nose like that. You do it when you concentrate, too.”
When I rolled my eyes, he laughed and assured me, “Your voice doesn’t sound like that at all. It’s beautiful, just like the rest of you.”
The kitchen timer went off, and I jumped up and headed to the kitchen before he could see the blush on my cheeks. I was flustered and didn’t know how to respond.
He followed me into the kitchen and snatched the oven mitts out of my hands. “I’ll get the lasagna out. I don’t want you to burn yourself. Why don’t you grab the salads, and we can start on those while the lasagna cools.”
I set the salad bowls on the table and got the bottle of dressing out of the refrigerator, then poured an iced tea for each of us.
Ryan joined me, and once we finished our salads, he got up to plate our lasagna.
Aside from giving me several compliments on the food, Ryan didn’t say much and seemed lost in thought as we ate.
I tried to initiate conversation several times but finally gave up after only getting nods or single syllable replies.
He didn’t seem angry, but he wasn’t exactly happy either.
Once we were done eating, he stood without a word and began to collect the empty plates, but I reached out and put a hand on his arm.
“Is everything all right? You’ve gotten awfully quiet all of a sudden.”
He shook his head. “I’m fine,” he said, carrying the plates to the sink. I followed him and reached for his arm again.
“I feel anxious because it seems as if something is bothering you. I feel as if you’re shutting me out for some reason, and I feel confused by that.”
Ryan dropped his head and sighed, then led me back to the table. We both sat down, and he flashed me a crooked smile.
“So that’s how those statements are supposed to be used, huh?” His attempt at lightening the mood fell flat, and he sighed.
“Several times in the last week or so when I’ve given you a compliment, I’ve noticed that you ignore it or change the subject or even seem embarrassed by it. I just assumed that you were uncomfortable because we’ve been…estranged since Vegas, but it hit me earlier.”
He reached for both of my hands and clasped them in his as he eyed me carefully.
“I haven’t complimented you in a long time, not like I used to, and definitely not like I should have, and it seems as if you aren’t comfortable accepting compliments from me now.
It’s as if you don’t believe me. Am I wrong? ”
I looked away and lowered my head slightly, but he reached up to cup my chin, forcing me to meet his steady gaze.
“I’ve made you so unused to compliments from me, that you don’t know how to accept them anymore. You really don’t believe me”
He wasn’t asking questions. He was stating facts, and I couldn’t dispute them.
“I think it’s more that it was part of the pattern you developed.
You didn’t stop complimenting me completely.
You just reserved them for when you were wanting to pacify me, either because we’d been arguing or because you wanted to have sex,” I said.
“They didn’t feel sincere anymore. It seemed as if compliments were used to shut me up, or they were just something to tick off on some kind of a seduction checklist. Compliments, check. Dinner date, check. Sex, check.”
He started to say something, then stopped and his mouth flattened to a thin line, as if holding back his words.
“I don’t think that’s what you’re doing now. I can see the difference,” I rushed to assure him. “I just…I get in my head when you say those things now, and by the time I push those negative thoughts out, the moment’s passed and it just seems awkward to respond then.”
He cupped my face in his hands then and refused to let me look away again.
“I have no excuse for treating you that way. It wasn’t something I was consciously doing, but that doesn’t change the fact that I was doing it, and I’m sorry for every single, fucking time it happened.
I need you to believe that even though I lost my goddamned mind and every ounce of common sense for a while, I always loved you, I just stopped showing it.
I changed, but my love for you never did. ”
He used his thumb to wipe the tears gathering in the corners of my eyes and leaned forward to kiss my forehead, then sat back and stared into my eyes.
“When I give you a compliment you now, it’s because I want to acknowledge what a smart, sexy, incredible woman you are. I want you to know that I see you, and that I appreciate you. I want you to know how I feel, and I’ll use my words and my actions to show you that every single day.”
I gave him a tremulous smile and swallowed hard around the lump in my throat.
“Thank you. Thank you for saying that. Thank you for meaning it. And thank you for the lovely compliments you’ve given me recently.”
“I’ve noticed something else,” he said quietly.
“Each time I’ve told you I love you, you don’t respond, and I want you to know that I understand if you’re not ready to say it back.
I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable, but I also don’t want to stop saying it, because I did that for far too long.
I don’t want a day to go by without you hearing those words from me, but I know I need to earn your love.
I don’t want you to feel pressured to say it until you truly mean it. ”
There was no holding back my tears at that point, and Ryan stood and pulled me into his arms. He rested his chin on the top of my head as I buried my face in his chest and sobbed.
When I got my emotions in check, I pulled back and swiped my fingers under my eyes, then turned and grabbed a napkin from the tray on the counter.
I dried my tears and Ryan reached for the box of cannoli and handed it to me. “I think we need a break for a while, so you take these and go get comfortable on the couch. I’ll make us some coffee and maybe we can snuggle for a while before you go.”
I gave him a grateful smile. “That sounds wonderful.”
I took a few steps toward the living room, only to turn as I heard him curse under his breath.
I glance over my shoulder to find him staring out the window over the kitchen sink.
“What’s the matter?”
“The few snowflakes we got earlier have turned into a mini blizzard. There must be at least four inches of snow out there, and it’s still coming down like crazy. You aren’t going anywhere tonight, sweets.”