Fears and Scars (26 page)

M
y legs are
shaky so I lower myself to the end of the bed.

“What?” I ask Mark.

“I killed your father,” he repeats robotically. “Last week I realized something. You were a threat to Deborah as long as you were a secret. You were a threat because nobody knew about you.” He swallows. “I saw fear in your eyes, you know. I saw Ryan looking like a ghost, stressing himself out, trying to keep you safe. Jacob told me about his screams at night. And I … God, he’s protected me from the day I was born. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him. You know that. And I love you too, Liz. I consider you my sister.”

“Mark, what did you do?”

He drops down on the bed and sits next to me. “I know a journalist at the
New York Times
. She hooked me up with her boss. Long story short, I told him who you are. I didn’t mention the kidnapping, of course. Just told him Jonathan North was your biological father. I thought if everyone knew, you’d be protected. She can’t harm you then.”

“That doesn’t sound bad, Mark. Why didn’t we think of that before?”

“The horrible part is what happened next. The paper printed the story about you this morning and then contacted Johnathan for a quote.”

“And?”

“And he went to his wife’s office. They got in his car and …”

He takes his phone out of his pocket, turns it on, and gives it to me.

There’s an article on his screen and the header says “Illinois State Senator Dead In Fatal Car Crash.” My heart stops when I read the next words. “State Senator Deborah North is reported to be one of the victims of the collision on I-290 that claimed the life of two people. The politician was said to have sustained injuries to her chest and head. Her husband, Jonathan North, one of the best neurosurgeons on the West Coast, was reportedly the one driving the vehicle. The cause of the deadly crash is still under investigation.”

“Jesus,” I murmur, dropping his phone to the bed.

I grasp everything that happened and what it means. Jacob and Ryan and everyone connected to me, everyone I love, is safe. I’m safe and free. No more fear of tomorrow. No more looking over my shoulder every time I leave home. No more bodyguards, and hopefully no more nightmares for Ryan. The relief I feel is so powerful, it consumes every part of my body.

But then pain and regret follows. I’ll never get the chance to meet my biological father. Deborah deserve this for the horrible person she was, for the people she killed, but Jonathan … I wish I had the chance to get to know him.

When I glance at Mark, he is pinching his fingers over his eyes and shaking his head. “I’m so sorry, sis. I didn’t mean it.”

I put my arms around him and squeeze him tightly, “It’s not your fault, Mark.”

He shakes his head in disagreement. “It is. They were probably fighting and … if I hadn’t told everything they …” His voice becomes nothing more than a gruff whisper. He tries his best to blink the emotions away, but I see guilt and pain in his eyes. I can’t let him blame himself for that.

“I’m probably a horrible person for saying this but, thank you. You freed me. You freed us all from a life of constant fear.”

For the next half an hour, I reassure Mark as much as I can that he isn’t responsible for what happened. Nobody should carry around a weight like that.

“I should call Ryan. Or better go see him,” I say eventually, our hands clasped.

“I should probably return to the office.”

I wrap my arms around him once again before we say good-bye.

A shower later, I’m still reeling from the news as I pull on a red sweater and my favorite black jeans and boots.

Just as I snatch my keys from the entry hall table, Ryan opens the front door. “Liz, you okay?” Concern mars his features. Looks like there’ll be no surprise.

“I’m great.” I smile at him, and he pulls me into his arms.

Ryan squeezes me tight, his lips pressed against my forehead. “I saw the news and bumped into Mark downstairs. I’m sorry, Liz. I had no idea he—”

“Marry me.” The words leap out of my mouth.

“What?” Disbelief crosses his features.

I regret not marrying Ryan as soon as he proposed, and I’ve regretted it a million more times during the past year and a half. Now that I know we’re in free to live as we wish, I’m done waiting.

Nervous energy circulates through my veins as I tell him, “You were right. Life is fleeting and unpredictable. Unexpected things happen all the time. Some of them are great, others are horrible. I may not know what happens tomorrow or even in an hour, but I know I want to be by your side through it all. I love you, Ryan, and I want to be your wife forever and always. No matter what the future may hold. Will you marry me, Ryan Lucas Price?”

My heartbeat triples when he lowers his gaze. Then he pulls something out of his pants pocket. When he brings his hand between us, I look down and find my engagement ring resting in his palm.

“I’ve carried this with me every day since you sent it back to me. Initially, I planned to ask you again right after your arrival to New York, but things got … complicated.”

Happiness nearly bursts from my chest as he takes my hand and slips the ring back in place.

The biggest, brightest smile lights his handsome face. “Elizabeth Grace Williams, nothing would make me happier or more honored than being your husband for the rest of our lives.”

“And in the next, if there will be one,” I clarify just to be sure.

“And in all lives there will be.” His voice is filled with so much resolution and emotion that my eyes water.

I place my hands underneath his jaw, run my thumbs along his scruff, and kiss him long and hard. Then I reach for the locket Ryan had given me that hangs just below my collarbone and remove my father’s wedding ring from the chain. When I packed everything in Seattle and saw this, I knew what I wanted to do.

“This belonged to my father. You don’t have to wear it. I know you love your ring, but I wanted to give it to you. My parents had a happy marriage, and I hope their rings will bring us a blessing from above.”

“I hope so too. I’ll find someone to combine my ring and this one. You can design it for me. Would that be okay?”

“That’d be perfect.”

He slips his engagement ring off, and I stop breathing when I see my name permanently etched in bold black script around his ring finger. Happy tears prick my eyes as I reach forward and trace my fingers on the inked skin.

“What’s this?”

“When we broke up … I made a bet with Mark, lost, and then kind of had to get a tattoo.”

I know damn well Ryan Price doesn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to. He sticks to his word. Deep down he wanted to do it.

“Ryan …” I have no words. My eyes grow blurry with happy tears.

All this time I was looking at his ring and thought that was the sign that he still loved me, but the real statement was hidden underneath.

With his ring back on, he brings my hand up to his mouth and presses a kiss over top of my ring.

“How about hopping onto the plane and going to France to our beach to get married? We’ll hire someone who can help us organize it pretty quick.”

“Sounds perfect. I can’t wait to be Mrs. Price.”

“It’s going to be amazing, Liz, our life I mean. Isn’t it?”

“It will be awesome, honey. Everything I could ever imagine.”

His lips are all over mine as he pushes me against the wall. His tongue slips into my mouth as his hands cup my rear.

“How about trying this thing with the ring before we go?” he asks, using his hips to keep me pressed against the wall, while his hands are busy roaming my body.

My arms go around his neck, my fingers threads through his hair. “What thing?”

“The thing where the only thing you wear is my ring,” he rasps, nibbling on my neck.

I rock into him, trying to get as close as I can. “We already did that thing.”

“Yeah. We did. Sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

My life may not be full of rainbows and unicorns, and the road destiny chose for me has been anything but simple; it’s all twisted and shadowed. As I fall asleep in Ryan’s arms, our bags packed for the flight to France, I know with all certainty this is the only road I ever want to travel.

S
ometimes it's easier
to create something new instead of repairing what’s broken. In some cases, replacing what’s damaged may seem like an easy way out. I believe nothing is easy when it comes to human hearts.

After I lost my parents, I’ve been trying to glue together the old pieces of my soul and make something functional out of it. The pieces kept falling off simply because some of them didn't fit any more. I thought that I needed to find all the lost pieces and glue them together for things to get back to normal.

Now I know I was wrong.

Changes, challenges, and loss transforms us, and I believe the real courage is in figuring out which pieces cannot be a part of a new you and let them go.

The real courage is to pick the best pieces and move on and keep building a new, better soul. One that still hopes and believes in wonders despite hardships and obstacles.

A wise man, who also happens to be my husband, once told me ‘Life is life. It screws with our plans. It can be cruel and unpredictable.’ Life can also be beautiful and good and great. It can bring us happiness we never imagined.

There is no recipe to avoid bad times and have only good ones. My advice is to enjoy the good while it lasts, and when things aren’t great
—
fight, believe in yourself and never lose hope. If you’re lucky enough to have a family, spouses, kids, and real friends hold on to them tight in joy as well as in sorrow. Hold on to them—period.

Last week wasn’t easy for me. It was thirteenth anniversary of my parents’ death, and I want to thank you for your support, messages and emails. It means a lot to know I’m not alone in my grief.

I
smile
through tears as I click ‘Post.’ Writing still heals my soul.

When I started a blog seven years ago after Jonathan’s death, I never planned to reach so many people. I needed an outlet for my feelings, and now I have almost 400,000 subscribers. It still feels surreal.

Most of the money I earn from ads on the blog goes to charities for children who have lost their parents. I also donated a large sum to the clinic where Granny fought Alzheimer’s. No matter how many times I failed to pay on time, never once did they tried to get rid of her. I wanted other patients who didn’t have the funds to have a chance for better treatment than the local state institutions provided, but mostly I wanted to thank Doc and all the personnel for always being there for me when I was all alone in a foreign country and lost in grief.

Two years ago, I graduated from Columbia with a degree in phycology and started free-online consulting. It’s unbelievable how many need help but don’t have the recourses. Since money isn’t an issue for our family, I get to do what I love—help others—and stay at home with my kids.

Speaking of kids … I notice how quiet it is. Silence is never good when you have a six-year-old. It means something is going on.

“Jamie? Ryan?” I call as I leave my home office. No answer follows.

My bare feet pad against the cool hardwood floors as I make my way from my office down the hall and into the nursery to find it empty. No husband and no sons so far.

I stop for a minute to look at our family photos that crowd the walls—our wedding photo, my maternity shoots, the pictures of our boys as babies, then Jamie taking his first unsure steps—we were lucky to document that one—another one with Jamie fishing with his father and uncles, and one with me and Ryan taken four years ago with smiles plastered on our faces in front of our new home—the home he designed for us.

There have been so many smiles in my life, so much happiness.

Feeling blessed and overwhelmed—damn hormones—I head down the stairs to the family room and finally find what I’ve been looking for. Ryan is sprawled out on our big sectional couch dressed in black sleeping pants and holding our adorable baby protectively against his bare chest. My heart melts as I take it their sleeping forms. Silently, I stand in the doorway and watch them. My little boy always sleeps better when he hears his father’s heartbeat.

“Mama, shh. Daddy and Blake is sleeping,” Jamie announces rushing to me from the kitchen. He’s in his pajamas and has a pencil clutched in his little fist, always drawing something just like his dad.

Looking at my son, a mixture of Ryan and me with his green eyes and blond hair, I silently thank my husband who made it possible for me to experience the most important miracle in the world: motherhood.

“Why are you still up, little guy?” I ask, kissing the top of his head. He smells like strawberry bubblegum and sunshine.

“I’m big.” He lifts his little chin up. “Uncle Mark says I’ll be bigger than him when I grow up.”

“You may be.”

“I want to be as big as Daddy. I will draw homes and people will live in them. Look.” He runs away from me and into the kitchen, and then brings his latest creation: a red brownstone that leans to the right side like the Tower of Pisa. At least he got over his dinosaur stage. For the past two months, they were in every picture he drew.

“This looks great.”

“I will add T-Rex tomorrow,” my little munchkin says with a massive yawn.

I shake my head. His
Jurassic World
obsession is still going strong.

“How about I tuck you in?”

“’Kay. I’m going to brush my teeth first.” My little guy is fiercely independent.

He runs to the stairs but then stops and turns back to me. “Mama?”

“Yeah?”

“Tomorrow I’ll draw you a castle. You can sit there and write or make us cookies.” I can’t contain a smile. Our boy has big, generous heart.

“Sounds amazing.”

He grins and runs up to his room.

Blake chooses this moment to let out a shrill cry that wakes Ryan. My husband sits up on the couch and gently rocks our son to coax him back to sleep. Our little one is nothing like Jamie who has been the quiet type since birth. Nope, Blake screams bloody murder every chance he’s got.

“Hey, wife, come here,” Ryan murmurs sleepily, beckoning me to sit by his side.

“Hey, husband.”

“Do you feel okay?” His gaze is now firmly fixed on my belly.

I bring my hand to a barely-there baby bump, holding on to another miracle we’ll bring into this world in six months. “I’m perfect.”

Ryan kisses the corner of my mouth, and Blake makes a grunt.

“We’ll wake him up,” I whisper.

“You’re right. Come on, let’s put the kids to bed so we can go to bed,” he says, a devilish glint in his eyes.

It takes me less than ten minutes to read Jamie to sleep. As I close the door to his room, I hear Ryan moving around the nursery. I can’t help but watch as he carefully puts Blake into the crib and swoon as he gently kisses his soles before pulling the covers over him. He looks at our son with so much love and adoration that my heart squeezes in my chest. Each day I fall in love with my husband more and more because of the kind of father he is—a phenomenal one.

He glances up and notices me eyeing him. The grin he flashes liquefies me, and I forget to breathe. Even after all these years, he still looks at me like I’m the beginning and end of everything.

Marriage is about the good times and the bad. In the last seven years, life wasn’t always a bed of roses for our family. We’ve had bad times just like everyone else, but we’ve faced every trouble, every problem, side by side. Not once have I feel lonely or empty inside.

Ryan steps out of the nursery, baby monitor in hand, and carefully closes the door.

“Do you think this one will be a girl?” he asks, reaching down and placing his free hand flat against the slight roundness of my stomach.

“I’m not sure, honey. I don’t feel any different than I did when I was pregnant with boys.”

He presses a kiss to the skin right above my belly button. “Girl or boy, we can’t wait for you to arrive, baby,” he murmurs onto my skin.

Lifting himself up, he slips his hand around my waist. His eyes darken and familiar tremors run down my spine.

“You keep making all my dreams come true,” he murmurs before claiming my mouth. The kiss is gentle and slow at first, but soon it progresses into a rough, passionate duel of insatiable lips and tongues.

My hips roll against his as my fingers explore the hard muscles of his naked chest; the light dusting of hair feels amazing under my fingertips. I almost lose it when he wraps a hand in my hair and tugs lightly, angling my head to get the sweetest angle, setting every part of me on fire.

Even though I’m hot all over, I shiver when he leaves a searing trail of kisses from my mouth down my neck and to my chest. A moan escapes me as he grazes his teeth lightly over my breasts.

“Shh,” Ryan husks out.

I reach between us and squeeze his already hard-as-a-rock length, making my husband groan. I want him to strip me right here in the hallway and fuck me against the wall, but Jamie may wake up and walk out of his room. We need to get this show behind closed doors. As if reading my thoughts, Ryan picks me up by the waist. I wrap my legs around him as he walks us back down the hall.

My tongue strokes his in long licks as he shoves the door closed behind us with his foot. I back him against the door and lick and nip my way down his chest while my hands drift farther south, pushing under his flannel pants and the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs, freeing his cock. Ryan sucks in a breath through his teeth as I cup him and brush my thumb over the tip. Lust spikes through my body as I feel the slickness of pre-come that’s gathered there. I move my hand slowly up and down, my grip firm just like he likes it.

I need him in my mouth.

My eyes are trained on his as I go to my knees and lick him from balls to tip.

“Jesus, Liz.”

He stops me with his fingers on my wrist.

“I’ll stop when you’re close,” I reassure him, knowing he doesn’t want me to swallow while I’m pregnant.

My tongue teases the ridge at the head for a few moments before I open my mouth and pull the head of his shaft into my mouth and as far down as I can take it. I suck hard then slowly back up. Soon I find a rhythm and Ryan’s grunts become louder and louder as he grips my hair.

“Ahh,” Blake wails through the baby monitor laying on the floor next to us. I freeze and Ryan’s cock slips from my mouth.

“Real good timing, bud. Real good.” My husband rubs his palms into his eyes and then yanks his underwear and pants up from his hips.

I giggle, standing up. “You should stop knocking me up if you ever want to have sex again.”

He wraps his arms around me, pulling me against his chest and kissing the top of my head. “Never. But I’m booking us a hotel room tomorrow and we’re going to do nothing but fuck.”

“How romantic, Price,” I say sarcastically. “I remember the days when you wined and dined me first.”

Another cry leaves the monitor, this one louder and more assertive.

“I’ll get him,” I say. Our poor little angel is teething.

I barely make a step out of our bedroom when I hear Ryan’s voice. “Liz?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you, baby.”

I beam at him. I don’t know what I ever did to deserve happiness like this, to have more than I have ever dreamed.

Meeting Ryan Price was the best mistake that ever happened to me.