A Winter's Date (43 page)

The house that I click on is on a three-and-a-half-acre property with a shingle-style, two-story house overlooking Long Island Sound in Old Field, New York.

“Noah, it’s beautiful. Scroll down. What type of shingles are those? I love how they blanket the house.”

“It says they are cedar. I like the floor plan. It’s an L-shape with the main wing that faces the sound. And, hell, that porch is huge. Shit.”

“It’s gorgeous. I like that the porch is undercover and it sort of has a Japanese look to it, right?”

“I think you’re right.”

I click on the next picture and it shows the second wing, which hosts a three-car garage and a long driveway out to the street.

“There’s only one thing I need to say about it.”

“What? What’s wrong with it? Did it burn down?”

“No, sweetheart.” I chuckle. “I’m not into mowing the lawn. Even as much as Ellery has a green thumb, I would kill the damn grass, all three acres of it.”

Her soft laugh fills the room. “Okay, we’ll get someone to cut it for us.”

“Thank fuck.” I scroll back up and pause at the first picture again.

“Noah, are you sure you are okay with paying that amount? I can help.”

“Don’t worry about it, ballerina, I’ll be paying it off immediately. There won’t be any payments.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. Would you like to call the realtor on this site and set up an appointment to go see it in person? It says it was listed a few days ago.”

“Uhhh, yes please. Could we go on the way down to your parents’ tomorrow? I don’t want someone else to get his or her grubby hands on it. I love it so much.”

She takes my tablet from me and starts going through the pictures again. I glance at the time and it’s just past five-thirty.

“I’ll call them now; hopefully they’re still open. They should be, though; it’s only Monday.”

About a half-hour later I’m off the phone, and my ballerina is doing a dance on top of her bed. I laugh and walk over to the edge of the mattress and pull her to me by her thighs. I finally get her to stop dancing, and I lift her shirt so I can rub my nose across her flat stomach before biting at her rib cage. “You smell so damn good. You have no idea how beautiful you look.”

She tangles her hands into my hair and tries to inch away when my teeth make contact with her soft skin. She moves her hands and pulls her blouse up and off of her body; now I can fully admire what’s mine.

“I want to take you somewhere after I take the bar exam.”

“Oh yeah?” She asks with genuine surprise and I lick around her navel.

“Mmm. How about a road trip? We’ll find some romantic cabin. We could drive up to Canada and sit in front of the fire naked. You could wear your fuzzy socks—
only
your fuzzy socks.”

Her giggle makes me grin, and I look up at her. “That is hardly sexy, Noah. But that sounds so romantic.”

“Yeah, well, it was a good ploy. And you might as well say yes, because I’ve already found a cabin and reserved a room for a week.”

I grunt when she grips my hair and yanks my head back. “Noah! Seriously?” She starts bouncing up and down on the bed and squeals excitedly. “Oh my God, our first vacation together.”

I breathe in through my teeth because damn, she’s strong. “I’m going to take that as a yes, ballerina.” My fingers grip her ass and I squeeze.

“Yes, yes, yes, take me away!” She crushes her lips to mine heatedly.

I lift her off of the bed as I bite her lip. “Make me dinner, woman. Then I’ll work on getting you pregnant.”

“Swear?”

“You have my word.”

I really want this with her now. I want a life with her. I want the family I was never allowed to have—with her. Thinking back on the first time I saw her, I knew instantly that she would make an impact on my life, but never once did I think we’d be where we are now. In less than a year, I’ve figured out that she’s the one I’m meant to be with, and I believe we both deserve it. We’ve been stripped of our families and been dealt such a shitty hand of cards that I believe this is right.

Nothing in our lives has followed the plans we had set out for ourselves—they’re better. I’ve come to realize that I can’t save someone, but I can love that person unconditionally, which is what I’ve done with Heather. I couldn’t save her from falling off of the damn stage; I couldn’t save her from it ruining her dance career; I couldn’t save our unborn baby, and I couldn’t save our broken relationship before I left for London, but I don’t think I’ve once stopped loving her, and I know, without having to second-guess myself, that it’s what she needs.

Heather has loved life, and it has loved her right back, even though it has hindered her in ways that are simply unfair. Heather is the strongest, most loyal, and loving woman I have met. She knows her limits and sometimes tests them to see how far she can push herself, yet she knows when to pull back and put a stop to any advances.

She’s made me become what I respect in a person: someone who is able to look past the disparities in life and live life for today. Heather has helped me use my struggles as steppingstones to become someone who suits me, someone who is more than a stranger in the mirror.

As I look down at her in the kitchen from the top of the stairs, I realize that any woman could throw herself at me, and I wouldn’t be able to tear my eyes away from my ballerina. She stole my life. She is the sole owner of my heart. I want nothing more than to keep that smile on her lips for the rest of my life. She must feel me watching her, because she looks up and over her shoulder at me, and, hell, that smile gets sweeter each time I see her, and it breaks my soul with its beauty. My soul, my life, and this love are no longer black and white; it’s all scattered with pinks and glitter. I don’t think I could stand without it. She’s helped me push out the poison and dilute the destructive parts of my life that felt all encompassing.

She looks down and it’s as if life is in slow motion as I acknowledge the thought of her being my remedy. I’ve always believed that better things were coming, and she has proven to be it.

HEATHER

I’m anxiously pacing the living room. I’ve cleaned all I can in this place; I’ve even used my Swiffer on every surface imaginable, which got me thinking about the night at the club. I haven’t talked to him since this morning, and it’s now after six in the evening. I’m not anxious because I haven’t seen or heard from him: I’m anxious because he took the first part of his bar exam today. I’ve got everything ready for dinner—I made his favorite: meatloaf,
yuck
, with mashed potatoes and candied carrots as sides. I know he knows his stuff, but an eight-hour exam is brutal for anybody, regardless of how well one knows the material. I’ve picked all the nail polish off my nails while I constantly check my phone for a call or a text.

This past month has flown by with my physical therapy, and we went to go see the shingled house on Long Island Sound a week ago. Other than that, Noah has been studying continuously. I’m hoping everything will pay off; he deserves this.

I finally manage to sit down and stop pacing when I hear the door open. It closes before I even hop up off the couch, and I can hear his heavy footsteps on the hardwood floor.

“Baby?” I call out before rounding the corner. “How did it go?” I ask before I take in his mood. My Greek god looks as stressed as I’ve ever seen him. He’s wearing a look of utter exhaustion and defeat.

“Hey sweetheart,” he says in a cool, smoky voice and pulls me into his arms. Oh, I’ve missed my man more than I thought I could. I’m melting in his arms as I press my body to his and bathe myself in his lingering cologne.

He wraps his strong arms around my waist and holds me tightly to him. He exhales a heavy breath. “Jesus, what a day. I’m pretty sure I got every question incorrect,” he says in a voice I’ve never heard from him before. He’s always so confident, never second-guessing himself, so this is new.

“Oh baby, that’s not possible. You’ve been studying so hard. It’s just nerves.”

“I don’t know. I think I’ve fucked this up already. Shit, I need to go study.” He lifts his wrist up to check the time while I place a kiss on his chest.

I look up at him and frown. “No, you don’t. You’re going to wear yourself out. You need to eat. Come sit down. I’ve made dinner and it’s all ready.”

I pull back from him and tug at his hand. I can see that tonight I’m going to have my hands full with keeping him occupied and away from the books. He grudgingly follows me into the kitchen and lets go of my hand to make himself a drink.

Sitting down at the kitchen island with a Bourbon on the rocks, he asks, “What did you do today?”

I look up at him after plating his food and slide it over to him.

“I cleaned.” I smile and try to keep him talking. “I used my Swiffer.” I watch as he takes a drink, and I’m not sure if he’s even listening to me.

He sets his glass down and a smile plays on his lips. “Yeah? Those things seem to come in handy. The apartment looks great. Oh shit, I think I got a phone call from the realtor.” He pulls his phone out and taps the screen a few times before her voice comes across on speakerphone.

“This message is for Noah Ryan and Heather Lane. Please give me a call back at your earliest convenience. I look forward to hearing from you. Bye now.”

I smile after I hear the voicemail. “Do you think we got it?” I watch as he sets his phone aside and picks up his drink again.

“Doubt it,” he answers me in a dejected voice.

I can’t help but frown. I know he wants the house just as much as I do. My Greek god is so disheartened tonight, so I decide I want to console him in some way. I hop up onto the kitchen island and move his plate out of the way, moving my legs to either side of him in front of me. “Noah?”

“Mmhmm?”

He’s staring into his glass as he twirls the liquid around and around, listening to the ice clink against the glass. He doesn’t even notice that I’ve moved in front of him. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

He sighs heavily and places his hand on my thigh. “I’m really not hungry, baby.”

“Hey . . . come on, you can’t go hard at this tomorrow if you don’t eat.” I rub his hand that rests on my thigh and try to tilt my head to get into his line of sight.