Fears and Scars (7 page)

“He won’t. I won’t let him make a move. And I’m sorry for not realizing I was hurting you. I promise to sort this out soon and not to see him alone again.”

“I trust you, baby. Do whatever you need.”

I wrap my arms around his neck and brush my lips softly against his. Ryan threads his fingers through my hair and deepens the kiss. When I feel his erection against my thigh, I pull away. We still have things to discuss.

“I’m still angry at you, mister.”

“For telling Mark how I feel about Young?”

“Yeah. It would have been nice to know how you felt.”

“I didn’t mean to hide it from you. I’m a man. I’m not a fan of talking about feelings.”

“All that macho bullshit isn’t an excuse, Ryan Price. Sharing your feelings and opinion with me is a part of a healthy relationship. Plus, I’m angry you shut me out. You don’t get to put your walls back up when you aren’t happy with something I do.”

“I wasn’t putting anything up.” After I give him a narrowed glare, Ryan looks away and admits in a quick manner, “All right, maybe I was. It’s just … I thought you were choosing him over …”

Cradling his face in my palms and satisfied with Ryan’s eyes on mine, I say, “I wasn’t. You’re my soul, honey. My heart. I will choose you always. Only you. I want to ask you something—whatever it is, whatever you’re feeling, please don’t keep it from me.”

“Okay.”

After a quick kiss, he asks me, “Are you really moving in?”

“I am.”

My heart swells when a toothy smile breaks out across his face. “I even told Nina to look for a roommate. She’s going to think about it. And I know all about you bribing her. You’ll have to pay for that, mister.”

He smirks. “I’m happy to oblige.”

And he does. He makes sweet love to me, then drives me crazy with his skillful tongue in the shower. Twice. We collapse onto the bed exhausted hours later. Tucked under the warming layers of blankets, we hold each other tightly and talk some more. I tell Ryan about work, and he tells me about the architectural project he’s been working on lately. We discuss our future, how Ryan will manage his new company from afar and debate on where we should spend a summer vacation.

Everything seems perfect, but when Ryan falls asleep, I stay awake, unable shake to the strange heaviness that has settled in the pit of my stomach.

“
I
need a new grief counselor
,” Liz declares the next day, letting her purse drop on the couch. She’s home early from her session. I was just about to leave the suite to meet her since we agreed to go have dinner afterward.

“I mean who in their right mind would ask me if I’m glad to know the truth about my adoption?”

“Maybe she meant to find out how you feel about the whole thing,” I try.

My fiancée rolls her eyes and huffs. “Bullshit. She tried to get a rise out of me. When I called her out on it, she admitted it.”

“Admitted what exactly?”

“That she was trying to make me mad. Told me she couldn’t force out a single honest thing from me for a while. In her professional opinion, honesty comes hand in hand with anger.”

“Well …”

“Don’t start, Ryan.”

“I’m just saying she may be right.”

“She was right to ask me if I was
glad
to find out my birth mother abandoned me? Because I’m not. The truth sliced me open and turned everything inside out. Everything I believed, everything I thought was real has been turned upside down. So no. I’m not glad. Not at all. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need the longest bath in the history of baths and some peace.”

I blow out a long breath, not sure if I should follow her. I mean, she’s clearly angry and needs some space to cool off, but she’s also suffering, and the desire to console her is great. Something tells me to let her be. She’s finally showing others her rage, her pain, her hurt, and that’s a step in the right direction. I knew this moment was coming. I knew that when Liz fully grasped the truth about her adoption, a breakdown would be inevitable. She can’t control her emotions anymore, and they’re bound to spill over. I just wish I knew how to help her.

An hour later, I can’t wait for her to come to me any longer. When I walk into our bedroom, she’s sitting on the bed, her chin resting on her pulled up knees, her eyes glassy.

“It should have been you,” she tells me in a voice that’s only slightly louder than a whisper.

“Me?” I ask, caught off guard by her statement.

She toys with the blanket for a moment before explaining, “It should have been you telling me about the adoption.”

I place my hands in the pockets of my jeans. “But we talked about it, and you told me you forgave me and that you understood why—”

She doesn’t let me finish. “Some part of me, the grown-up and wise part, gets it. But some tiny, childish part of me holds a grudge. I know my parents should have told me. Even though they promised Grace, I still deserved to know. And I understand why you didn’t tell me when we first met. We were strangers, but then we became friends, started dating, got engaged … Ryan, you’re my only family now. You, Granny, Nina, and Mark are all I have.”

“And a brother, Liz. You have a brother,” I remind her, sitting next to her on the bed and brushing her hair behind her ear.

Liz shakes her head. “My point is it’s not fair to hide something like this. And the truth is, I’m angry at you. And at Mark. I think it would have been easier if someone close told me. I might have taken it better. Maybe it wouldn’t have hurt so much. Shit.” She buries her face in her hands and shakes her head. “I don’t know what I’m saying. It’s not your fault.”

“Hey.” I reach out, capture her hands in mine, and entwine our fingers. “I get what you’re saying, baby. I get it. I’m sorry. When I found out, I thought you knew. I thought you just weren’t talking about it. When I realized you had no idea, that you were so fragile and still dealing with your grief, I couldn’t do it. Then we came back from France, and you started to get better. You were so happy.

“It was selfish and cowardly of me to hide it,” I admit as I bring our connected hands up and press my mouth to her knuckles. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m also mad at my parents, Ryan. How could they do that to me? And my biological mother? She was just a child when she gave me up. If she knew she couldn’t raise me, how could she make any decisions concerning my future?”

“Liz, it’s hard, but we’ll never know. You’ll never get those answers, and I feel so powerless that I can’t get them for you. When I called Samuel Young, I asked if your parents left a letter or something for you that might explain everything but there isn’t one. All you and I can do is guess.”

Liz frowns. “Well, that’s encouraging.”

Cupping her face, I softly explain, “I think your parents were just keeping a promise. Grace gave you to them—something they dreamt about for years but couldn’t have. She gave them a miracle. The least they could do is grant her one wish. You told me yourself that we’re all human and make mistakes. Well, all you can do now is forgive them.”

Liz is silent for several minutes before saying, “It’s not that simple.”

“It never is. It takes time. One day we’re going to be parents, baby, and I’m sure we’ll do anything for our children.”

As I lightly caress her cheek with my thumb, I think that if our daughter looks anything like her mom—with her high cheekbones, large brown eyes, perky nose, full pink lips—we’ll be in a lot of trouble when she starts dating.

“We won’t lie to our kids,” Liz protests.

“Of course we’ll try not to, but you never know what the circumstances may be. Just put yourself in your parents’ shoes.”

“I’d never hide something like that from my daughter, Ryan. And I wouldn’t hide something like that from you, either.”

“Never say never.” When I see disappointment from my words clouding her features, I add, “But I’m sure you won’t.”

I have no doubt she’ll be the most amazing mother in the world.

“I wish Mom and Dad had told me, Ryan. They should have prepared me for something like this.” Her voice cracks and a sob rips from her chest. “I wish I was theirs, you know. I just wish I was theirs …”

Fast tears slip through her thick lashes, and I gather her to me. I smooth a hand over her hair and down her back repeatedly, trying to soothe away her pain and sorrow. I tell her it doesn’t matter that she was adopted, reassure her that she was, in fact, Lily and Garret’s child and they loved her as if she were their own blood and flesh, maybe even more. I promise her that the anger will fade and one day she’ll be ready to forgive them.

My own eyes burn from seeing Liz’s body shake and hearing her breath-stealing, soul-shattering sobs.

Eventually, we slide under the covers, and I draw her close. She curls into me, her head on my shoulder.

“I have so many whys and wishes that I’m drowning in them,” she whispers, her voice scratchy from tears.

“I will never let you drown, baby,” I promise.

When Liz’s breath becomes even and I know she’s fallen asleep, I do something desperate, something I have never done before—I pray. Looking into my fiancée’s innocent sleeping face, I beg God, higher powers, or whoever it is out there, to help her find all the answers her soul requires.

“
Y
ou sure
you don’t need any help?” Nina asks me, leaning her hip against the kitchen counter in front of me. She looks amazing in a black maxi skirt and red blouse with a black belt cinched around her slim waist.

I’m one of those people who would rather do a task quickly by themselves than explain the whole process to someone. But I love to have company while I cook so I tell her, “I’m all good. Help yourself to whatever you see, but the cupcakes are off limits.”

She fake-pouts before pulling a plate of cheese and crackers from the fridge.

It’s Sunday and Granny’s birthday. I arranged for a small celebration at the clinic and woke up at five a.m. to make her favorite cupcakes. It’s my mom’s recipe, and I hope Granny’ll recognize the taste or, at least, enjoy them.

“There’s actually something you can help me with,” I tell her as I plop a blob of icing on top of a cupcake and smooth it out with a small spatula. “I want to take Ryan somewhere cool next weekend. I considered the Moscow Ballet, but the most reasonably priced tickets are all sold out. I thought you could recommend someplace.”

“Reasonably priced? Honey, you do realize your fiancé is a super rich guy?” She motions her hand toward the living room where Ryan is having a conference call with his Paris office.

I frown. “That’s not the point. The point is, we explored some typical tourist spots around the city. Red Square, St. Basil’s Cathedral, Kremlin, Tretyakov Gallery, stuff like that. We also took that boat cruise on the Moskva River you recommended, and we go to traditional Russian restaurants all the time. But I want to show him some hidden gems, you know. Something cool.”

“Well, let me think.” She drums her fingers on the counter. “Oh, have you been to the Ice Sculpture Museum in Sokolniki Park? Ice sculptures there are so beautiful, real masterpieces. It’s fourteen degrees inside so they’ll give you a special coat to wear over your own clothes. In my mind, it looks like a cross between an Eskimo’s parka and an alien costume. You’ll have a good laugh, though. Plus, you can also try to create your own sculptures.”

“Really?” I ask setting the spatula down and wiping my hands off on a dishtowel.

“Yeah. They give you an electric saw and a chisel. I remember carving an ice fish when I was there, but that was years ago, so better check out their website.”

“This sounds like a lot of fun. Remind me again why you’ve never mentioned this place to me?”

“Remind me again why you think making thousands of cupcakes for the elderly people is a good idea? It’ll put them in a sugar coma.”

“Hey! Don’t be mean.” I grab a piece of cheese from the plate and toss it at my friend. “They’re sugar-free.”

“Who’s being mean to my Liz?” Ryan asks playfully, joining us in the kitchen. “Who deserves my wrath?”

He wraps his arms around me from behind and kisses my cheek. I lean back against him and enjoy the feeling of his chest pressed against my back. I love seeing him so carefree and relaxed. When there’s no drama in our life, this is how things are between us—easy, effortless, and so damn great.

“You look like a walking wet dream, baby,” he whispers in my ear.

I so do not. My eyes are still a bit puffy from yesterday’s breakdown. I’m pretty sure I have flour in my hair. Plus, I tossed on the first things I saw in the closet this morning—white tank and black yoga pants. On second thoughts, these pants fit me like a second skin, and my man is quite fond of my shapely bottom.

“Do you need any help?” He kisses my neck, and I hear a little growl in the back of his throat. “Your neck, damn …”

Wanting to save Nina from some major PDA, I tell Ryan, “I’m all set. Only five cupcakes need decorating, and then all I need to do is to clean up.”

“How about I’ll take care of the cleaning part?” he quickly suggests.

“You sure? I thought you had another conference call before we leave?”

“I canceled it to help you, so I have plenty of time for this and to get ready.”

Before I can answer Nina winks at me and declares, “You need to marry this man’s ass, Liza. If you don’t, I will.”

“No, you won’t. Ryan’s taken, and you aren’t a fan of commitment, missy.”

“That I’m not. But if I met such a giver who lavishes me with his attention and the best of everything, I might reconsider.”

“If you persuade my brother to join you in this commitment thing, that’d be great,” Ryan tells her with all seriousness. “Huge wedding present from us is guaranteed. A house, a car—”

“Ryan, stop bribing my friend,” I protest slipping out of his arms and reaching for some more cupcakes to decorate.

“My lady’s wish is my command, Nina. Sorry, no more bribes from me.” Then he adds in a mock whisper, “Someone will be delivering them from now on.”

Laughter fills the kitchen. And I can’t help but smile widely looking at Ryan and Nina. I’m blessed to have them in my life.

“
I
still can’t understand
how you manage to interact with everyone in the clinic without knowing the language,” I tell Ryan an hour later as we exit the elevator, ready for the celebration. Eighty amateur-decorated cupcakes are already in the car—courtesy of Ryan’s driver.

My fiancé has quite a fan club at the clinic. It didn’t go unnoticed by me how most ladies put on extra makeup since Ryan started coming with me to visit Granny, and how female staff and volunteers always seem to stay close.

“It’s simple. I know some phrases in Russian and can understand even more. But basically, I tell them ‘
net, spasibo
’ every time I hear an inquiring tone.”

“No, thank you? That’s all?”

“Yeah. I’m sure I’m turning down a lot of good stuff, but—” He pauses in the middle of the sentence, and the muscle in his jaw twitches. “What is he doing here?”

I turn to see a familiar face at the hotel front desk and my stomach drops.

“I have no idea.”

“Hey, Ellie. Price,” David greets us as we come closer, holding out his hand.

Ryan doesn’t make a move to return the handshake. His hand goes around my waist, and he moves me to the side of his body.

I force a polite smile. “Hey, what are you doing here?”

“I’m switching hotels. Decided to stay closer to the city center in case you needed to talk or something.”

I glance at Ryan on my right. Tension rolls off his body in palpable waves, his muscles and veins strain against his skin, his hard face sends a deadly glare at my ex punctuated with a rhythmic tick in his jaw. He looks like a man ready to cut someone’s throat. Shit, this won’t end well.

“What are you two doing here?” my ex asks.

“It’s Ryan’s hotel. We live here, but we’re kinda in a hurry, actually.”

“You live in a hotel? Quite a weird choice.” Of course David can’t keep his judgment to himself. “It’s not like your new fiancé doesn’t have money to buy you a real home unless he’s not planning on staying here?”

That’s it. My foot is so going down his throat.

Ryan takes a step closer, his fists clenched, ready to attack. I quickly bring my hand to his shoulder.

“Honey, let me take care of it, please,” I ask him softly when all I want to do is scream at David, ‘
It’s none of your damn business!’

When I see Ryan isn’t moving and his eyes are still on David, the fury racing through his veins evident on his face, I take a deep breath. “I consider myself very lucky to live in such a beautiful place, David. When our kids need a yard to play in, we’ll figure something out. Not that it’s any of your business, anyway. Oh, and I recommend you find some other place to stay. We’re all booked here.”

I turn on my heel for the door without waiting for David’s long overdue apology.

Once upon a time, David Young was my friend, but that changed. He won’t share my happiness like Nina does. He’s my past. I should have told him to return to the States a long time ago. That’s what I’m going to do as soon as I have the opportunity. Because right now I need to concentrate on what’s important—Granny’s birthday.

When I reach the lobby doors, I turn around. Ryan is taking long strides toward me.

“I’m so sorry about—” I start to apologize, but before I can finish my sentence, he pulls me flush against him and crashes his lips against mine in a hungry, hot kiss. Stealing all my words and all my thoughts about a very rude ex-friend of mine with his wicked mouth. I ease my hands up to the sides of his neck, rising on my toes. A shiver runs through me as his tongue sweeps into my mouth and glides against mine.

When air becomes a necessary resource, Ryan pulls back and rests his head against my forehead as we both struggle to catch our breath.

“I love you so fucking much, Liz. That’s the only reason he’s still alive.”

“I love you, and I’m sorry. You were right. David doesn’t want to be my friend. He doesn’t understand me anymore or doesn’t want to. Anyway, he’s part of my past, and that’s exactly where I need to leave him. God, you don’t deserve any of this. I’m an awful fiancée.”

“You aren’t. You see the best in people. Young came to Moscow with his own agenda—to get you back.” He takes a deep breath. “Maybe he has some better qualities or principles than I do.”

“Ryan, please, that’s not true. Don’t let him put ideas in your head.”

He presses his thumb against my lips. “Shh … let me finish, sweetheart. I may not be a saint. I can be a selfish and calculating bastard, but by some miracle, you love me and want to be mine. I’m nothing like that dumb asshole in there.” He points back toward the front desk. “I won’t screw this up. You’re going to be my wife, and he can’t do anything about it.”

I smile at his twisted logic. “I’m yours.”

He flashes me the beaming smile I love so much.

Wanting to keep it on his face, I go on. “Do you know you’re the only guy in the whole world capable of turning my insides to mush.”

“I am?” he teases, still smiling from ear to ear.

“You are.”

“Well, that sounds like fun except I have one important question for you.”

Even though I recognize the mock seriousness in his tone, I play along. “Okay. I promise to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth.”

“Can I start designing the house where our kids will play?”

I tense from his words. I want to say
yes
, and that scares me. I’m only twenty-two, and we haven’t been together all that long. Yet, I can’t wait to have a family with Ryan. I also want to achieve something in life, to make my parents proud.

“Well, how about we go celebrate Granny’s birthday, then you deal with the special lingerie I have underneath, and after that, you’ll be free to design whatever you want.”

“Sounds very inspirational.”