Chapter 16
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Mia finished drying off after her restorative shower then slipped her arms into the plush warmth of the Graff Hotel robe. She rubbed her cheek against the thick, luxurious cotton, tugging the belt tight. She closed her eyes a moment to savor not only the decadent tactile sensations but also the rich peace of silence. The only sound was the low murmur of music coming from hidden speakers.
Ryker had been as delighted as Emilee would have been when he spotted the in-room music system that allowed him to plug in his phone and choose the playlist he’d been putting together for this night. John Legend’s sultry voice reassured her that he loved all of her…just as Ryker claimed.
She opened her eyes and used a hand towel to clear away the steam from the mirror. She fluffed out her damp hair, smiling as wispy curls bounced to life. She thought she’d miss long hair, but that wasn’t the case at all. A change that might not have happened if not for the cancer.
Impulsively, she untied the fabric belt at her waist and opened the robe. The lights above the sink hid nothing. She studied her bare breasts in the mirror, turning sideways and back.
Not bad, she admitted. Not bad at all. I think I can live with these.
She’d barely completed the thought when a light rap sounded. The door inched open and Ryker’s hand popped in. “Bubbly. The good stuff, too. Courtesy of Troy Sheenan.”
She opened the door wide enough for him walk in. His all-male, jaw-dropping double-take reinforced her confidence. She took the glass but set it on the counter without taking a sip. She didn’t need champagne. She needed him.
“Thank you.”
He looked at the glass then back to her. “For what?”
“For making me like myself again.” She slipped off the robe and let it pool at her feet. “Your photos made me face my fear head on, but the look in your eyes just now makes me feel alive inside and womanly and sexy. And I’ll love you forever for that gift.”
He took a breath, polished off his glass of golden bubbles then set down his glass, too, and reached for her. “You’re welcome. But you should know that’s exactly what I planned to tell you, too, tonight.”
She pressed her face to his chest. “Why?”
“I realized I couldn’t move forward until I faced the past. That meant confronting my mother and saying goodbye to Colette. You have no idea how liberating both of those things felt. Empowering.”
“Flynn told me you also gave your stepfather a get out of jail free card.”
“Sorta. But before you think I’m some altruistic chump, I should admit, I was bought off. My mother bribed me…quite handsomely…to let bygones be bygones.”
She sensed there was a great deal more to the story but decided now was not the time to ask for details. Instead, she said, “Interestingly, so am I. As I told Flynn when you were outside risking life and limb to play football with my crazy family, I went to the County yesterday and started the subdivision process. When it’s done, he’ll get his five-acre portion. Free and clear to build on or sell. His call.”
His jaw dropped. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yes, I did. Flynn didn’t deserve to lose out on his memories of his Montana summers with your dad any more than you did.” She tightened her hold on him. “We,” she said, stressing the word succinctly, “are never selling. Five acres is plenty of room for you and me to build our dream house on our land.”
“Our land?” he repeated. “Our dream house. That sounds like a marriage proposal, Mia Zabrinski. I thought we were incompatible. Footloose me. Pillar of the earth you.”
His tone was light but she knew the question needed answering. “I might have over-simplified our differences. And, for the record, I’m not suggesting we tie the knot right away. Marriage is a big step. Some people—Austen, for example—think we should date first.”
He laughed. “You mean give it the winter and see if we still like each other?”
She nodded.
He grinned. “I’m all for dating, but I promise I’m always going to like you.”
She saw the truth in his eyes, but there was one other important, potentially divisive issue they had to discuss. The solution had come to her in her dream last night.
“We need to talk about kids,” she said, her voice going tight. “You want them, right?”
“No. Sorry. You’re going to have to get rid of Hunter and Emilee.” His grin made her stick out her tongue.
“I mean…what about another one? Yours and mine together.”
He pressed his hand flat against her bare belly. “I thought that wasn’t possible? And, I’m okay with that. I’m not in love with your baby making parts…” He stumbled and added, “well…some of them, but—”
She cut him off. “You’re right. The inside plumbing is gone. But, at my doctor’s suggestion, I let him harvest some eggs before the operation. He told me even if I never desired to have another child, at least, this way, I had the option.” Ryker didn’t say anything. He appeared to be thinking. “Honestly, I put that whole idea out of my mind. Even when Meg was talking about using in vitro to get pregnant, I spaced on the possibility of us using a surrogate…if we want a baby. Someday.”
His eyes shone brightly but his answer—his love for her—came across loud and clear. “I know this is going to sound strangely traditional coming from me, but I’d love to get married first and then have a baby. Just tell me when.”
She took a deep breath, kissed him soundly then whispered against his lips, “When.”
When. The word made Ryker’s imagination soar. He could picture them tying the knot in the spring. Or maybe after their house was built. The possibilities were endless, but, first, he owed her the same honesty as she’d given him.
He reached down and picked up her robe. “Come back into the bedroom. There are a couple of things I want to show you.”
He led her to the beautiful mahogany table to the right of the gas fireplace, which flickered romantically. From the carry-on tote, he produced a folder and handed it to her. “These are the rough mock-ups of a book that will come out next spring. My agent says there’s a lot of buzz already.”
She hesitated. “Will it make me cry?”
He scratched his head. “Maybe.”
She sat and opened the folder on her lap. She took her time, reading the text and studying the images of Ryker and Colette. “She was beautiful. It hurts my heart to know she’s dead.”
Ryker knelt on the floor beside her chair. “Mine, too.”
“I expected to be jealous—even though that would be petty and ridiculous.”
“And human. I felt a stab or two of the green-eyed monster seeing your family photos spread around your parents; house. Edward holding Emilee when she was a newborn…pushing Hunter on his two-wheel bike…everybody smiling. It hurts to have missed out on so much of your life.”
She pointed to one of the final images. He’d taken it the morning of their ride. Colette was leaning against the side of the house waiting for him to finish taking pictures. One hand rested on her belly, her face turned up to the sun. Her expression radiated joy.
“I’m glad she was so happy. That kind of serenity is a gift some people never feel. Your book might lead them to it.”
He rocked back on his heels. “That’s what her parents said when I went to France to show them this. They’ll receive her share of the royalties. Mine will go straight into a scholarship in her name. I like to think if our child had been born this would pay his or her way through college, the way my father tried to provide for me.”
She made a soft cry and reached for him.
He kissed her with a need that was both raw and timeless. He stood and pulled her to her feet. “Come closer to the fire. I have one other thing I need to show you. When I stopped at the house this morning, Flynn spotted the boxes my mom sent with my studio stuff. Remember?”
She nodded. “Your childhood mementos.”
“Flynn asked me what was in them and I couldn’t remember, so we looked and I found this.”
He pulled a small, slightly yellowed snapshot out of the pocket of his robe and handed it to her.
“Did you take this?”
He nodded. “The summer Dad gave me my first point and shoot camera.”
She moved it closer to the light from the fire. “Is…is that me?”
She pointed to the girl in the red swimsuit floating in an inner tube, her eyes alight with joy. She had a stick of some sort clamped in her mouth, but you could still see the big, carefree smile on her face. Other kids were grouped together but she’d drifted closer to the shore. Close enough to make eye contact with an impressionable young photographer.
“You took my picture,” she exclaimed. “I don’t remember this.”
“Why would you? Flynn and I were two strange kids fishing on the banks of the river. But, apparently, you made quite an impression.”
She looked at him questioningly.
“Turn it over.”
She read what was written on the back. Her jaw dropped. “No way. That can’t be…no…how…?”
He took the photo from her and looked at his childish penmanship that read: Nitro. Girl I’m gonna marry some day.