Beautiful Burn (22 page)

I loved her
completely. She filled every corner of my enraptured heart. She'd
taught me to make each moment so beautiful it's worth remembering.

It was that
thought that carried me into the jewelry store a week later. It's for
that reason I bought her a ring.

It was finally our
time.

The contractor
came to break ground on our cozy A-frame on a humid morning in
August. Auburn and I waited at nine am to watch the backhoe dig the
first trench. The teeth of the heavy machinery bit into the soft
ground and we cheered and clapped. Auburn ran her hands over my
stubbled scalp as she kissed me through smiles and happy tears. I
held her tightly as my body swayed in the sun.

"Are you
okay?" She held my biceps as her eyes nailed mine.

"The best
I've ever been.” I placed a kiss on the tip of her nose. “I just
need some water. This humidity is a killer." I swiped at the
sweat on my forehead.

"Here."
She shoved a bottle of water at me. "Drink it all, you're
probably dehydrated."

I grinned as I
unscrewed the top.

“
What
are you smiling about?” She planted a hand on her hip.

“
I
was thinking you'll be a great mom someday.” I winked before
bringing the cool moisture to my lips.

“
Oh.”
Her mouth rounded adorably. I took long swallows of the cold water as
I watched her eyes avert and her head tilt to one side for a moment.
“So...kids, you think you'd like kids someday?” Her eyes had
slowly made there way back to mine.

I
finished the bottle and took a step to close the distance between us.
“I can't wait to have babies with you, Auburn.” I hummed, my hand
resting on her flat stomach. Her eyes fell for a moment before a slow
smile lit her face. I rubbed at a slow ache in my chest as my smile
grew watching the sunlight wash her golden cheeks and shine in a halo
of prisms off her silky hair.

My world swayed
and tilted again and her mesmerizing brown eyes fluttered open to
meet mine when the sound of the plastic bottle crackling in my fist
erupted in the air between us. I dropped to my knees and clutched my
chest, my heart pounding in an inferno of flames.

"Reed!"
She dropped with me, palms on my face, searching my eyes for answers.

"Call
an ambulance." I whispered as my heart slowed to an unnatural
pace.

"Breathe
deep, just take deep breaths." She kept repeating as she fumbled
with her phone. "Just breathe. I love you so much, please,
breathe. Just breathe." Were the last words I heard before my
muscles loosened and I knew I was falling. Not for her, as I had the
moment she'd came into my life again, but away. So far away.

Auburn

Reed
died on a balmy day in August, after collapsing at my feet in our
cherry orchard.

An
underlying heart condition, they’d said. The chemotherapy had left
damage, they'd said. It didn't matter, he was gone, and he'd taken my
heart with him when he'd left. But he left me so much in return. I
carried his love with me every day.

The story I wrote
that first summer ended up being much more his story than mine.

I’d only had to
type and out it'd poured, our love written on every page. Everything
that had defined us was there. In retrospect I see that it'd helped
me to understand him more, helped me love him through the pain and
indecision. As I look back on what he often called my patience…it
was this. It was the writing that saved me.

When
I'd finally made the agonizing decision to publish Beautiful Burn,
I'd taken my life by the reins to steer it in the direction I
intended for it to go. I’d grown, learned, hurt, and healed, and
stood two years later a better woman. A woman more confident in
herself and her ability to design her life. In the beginning I'd
sometimes wondered if I'd betrayed him in publishing our story, but
as time ticked on and I thought back on all the times he'd begged me
to publish, I felt the bigger betrayal would have been to hold it
inside and let it fester. Writing our story had been a necessary step
in healing the hole he’d left in my heart.

My
eyes gazed upon the ornate iron and gold-washed statues, obscured in
a flurry of falling snowflakes as the river surged and flowed beneath
me. Intricately wrought limestone buildings dotted with
charcoal-black balconies fanned out in all directions as strangers
hurried past, loaves of baguette peaking out of brown paper bags. A
slow smile crept across my lips and my heart fluttered. I'd made it,
I was really here.

I’d
moved to Paris three months ago, taking the money I’d made on
royalties from Beautiful Burn to pay my way The City of Light. I
stood on one of the most ornately constructed bridges in the city and
watched snowflakes in April drifting down to melt into the rolling
Seine. I sucked in a breath of the uncharacteristically cool air,
shoved my hands in my pockets, and walked a few blocks up the Left
Bank. I'd been all over this neighborhood already. Visiting the spots
where Picasso, Hemingway, and Fitzgerald lived and worked was a next
to godly experience, marveling in the windows of antique book dealers
had me rooted in awe, and the immaculately-landscaped streets and
gardens took my breath away. Paris quite simply lived up to every
high expectation I'd had for it.

I only wished he
could see it with me.

I
walked with hands buried in the pockets of my thick wool coat with a
plaid scarf wrapped around my neck fighting back the chill. Through
charming streets dotted with bakeries and delicatessens, I wove until
finally reaching the small apartment I'd rented off of a quiet
side-street. My keys jingled as I worked the old lock and finally
pushed in the door, ducking in quickly before the snow could breeze
in behind me. Dropping my keys on the side table, I hung my coat and
kicked off my boots before rounding the corner into the kitchen.

The
aroma of richly scented beef bourguignon enveloped my nostrils and I
was just lifting the pot to give it a stir when Callie rushed around
the corner. “Don't touch!” She squealed, wine glass in hand,
nudging me away from the delicious concoction.

“
It
smells amazing,” I gushed.

“
Thank
you.” Callie bowed with a grin. She'd come to Paris for culinary
school and never left after being offered a job at a local cafe where
she'd worked her way to sous-chef in just three short years. “Wine?”
She poured a glass from the half-finished bottle on the counter.

“
I
would love some. Where's–”

“
Mommy!”
A rambunctious two-year old ran full tilt into the kitchen and
wrapped herself around my legs. I hefted her squirming body into my
arms and planted kisses across her cheeks. Tucking my nose into her
dark curls, I inhaled her sweet scent.

“
Did
you have fun with aunt Callie today?” I hummed, holding my daughter
so tightly she would never doubt my love for her. She pulled away and
her emerald green eyes nailed me. “Aunt Cawe took me to the park
and we fed duckies!” I pressed my forehead to hers, marveling at
the tiny miracle I hadn't even known I'd been carrying that humid
summer day when he'd fallen to his knees.

“
Oh,
how fun!” I gushed with excitement enough to match her own. “Did
you see baby duckies?”

“
Lots
of them!” She squirmed and twisted in my arms before I set her
down. “Can we read a book, mommy?” I looked down into her sweet
little face with chubby cheeks and bow tie lips and my heart melted
like putty between her tiny fingers. I carried Reed with me in my
heart every day, but the most beautiful gift he'd left me with I'd
carried for nine months. Hadley Reed West.

“
I
would love to! Go pick out your favorite.” I ran my fingers through
her long hair that looked so much like my own.

“
I
want daddy's book!” She darted off down the hall, returning seconds
later with the thin volume clutched in her hands. I settled down with
her on the overstuffed couch and opened to the first page, where a
picture of the man I loved laughing in the bright sunlight greeted
me. My fingers dusted across his full lips, just like I always did
when we opened the book.

“
I
want to go to the orchard, mommy!” Hadley squealed and brushed her
chubby fingertips across the cherry trees in full-bloom in the
background of the photo.

“
We
will soon, baby.” I rested my chin on her head, thankful that
Reed's parents had so generously given us the small piece of property
that overlooked the bay. I wanted to raise Hadley in the home her
daddy had intended to build for us, at the water.

Hadley turned the
page, caressing a finger along the sharp line of Reed's jaw as she
babbled. I'd made this book for Hadley, composed of pictures of her
dad throughout all of his twenty-nine years of life. She flipped the
pages as I read the excerpts I'd included from the story Reed had
been writing about his childhood. She chattered happily in her sweet
toddler-speak and it was in these moments that I wished more than
anything that Reed could be here with us. But somewhere deep in the
depths of my soul, I knew he was.

I
loved Reed for the life he breathed into me, but I didn't understand
true, unconditional love until his daughter made her way screaming
into this world another April day two years ago. I thought he'd taken
my heart with him when he'd left me for the final time, but after
months of grief and anger and pain, I'd realized he'd been the one to
leave me with his heart and it walked around every day inside the
body of a beautiful, wild, and loving toddler.

“
Mommy!
Daddy!” Hadley squealed when we'd turned to the last page, a
picture of Reed and I together, his arm draped over my shoulder as he
planted a kiss on my temple while I laughed. It was candid,
beautiful. It was us.

Reed
had also left me with another gift -- he'd given me the courage to
dream. It's why I'd dedicated our story to him.

For Reed. My
love, my reason, my beautiful burn.

Adriane Leigh was born and raised in a snowbank in
Michigan’s Upper Peninsula and now lives among the sand dunes of
the Lake Michigan lakeshore.

She graduated with a Literature degree but never
particularly enjoyed reading Shakespeare or Chaucer.

She is married to a tall, dark, and handsome guy,
and plays mama to two sweet baby girls. She is a voracious reader and
wishes she had more time to knit scarves to keep her warm during the
arctic Michigan winters.

Stay
up to date with Adriane’s new releases
here: 
adrianeleigh.com/contact/

Steel and Lace: The Complete Series

The Morning After

Light in Morning

Wild (Wild #1)

Ridge (Wild #2)

Slade (Wild #3)

Beautiful Burn