Текст книги "The Ever After of Ella and Micha"
Автор книги: Jessica Sorensen
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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 14 страниц)
Chapter 20
Ella
Go on the road for three months with him? Really? It’s crazy to even think about, yet at the same time I want to go. It’s not like I’d truly miss my job at the art gallery and I could finish school online. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I wonder why I’m even thinking about it at all. I should just go with him. Live life to the fullest. Draw. Be happy. Relax. I’ve never done that before, never thought I could. But suddenly it hits me: I can. Holy crap. I could just do whatever I want. Travel on the road with him, listening to him play, watching him up on stage as his words move me the way he always does whenever he sings. It seems so damn easy, so why am I hesitating?
I decide after he plays me his song I’ll tell him that I’ll go with him. That way he won’t have to worry about leaving me behind, because I know he is. Oh my God, I’m seriously going to do this.
Dressed in only his boxers, Micha gets his guitar from the closet and sits down at the foot of the bed. Holding the guitar his lap, he wraps his long arms around it, and then plucks at the strings. “You know, I’m sort of nervous.” His eyes skim over my body as I relax against the wall with only a sheet draped over my naked body. “I never in a million years imagined you’d be naked when I played you this.”
I can’t help but smile as I fluff up a pillow and lean against it. “You know, I’m not going to even be surprised if somewhere in your song you talk about me being naked.”
“No way.” He lowers his head, his blond hair hanging down into his aqua eyes as he positions the guitar. “This song was not about my horny feelings for you. Only about my love.” He peers up, grinning, but it’s underlined with nervousness.
I roll my eyes, but my stomach flutters. “So sappy.”
He wiggles his eyebrows at me and then he grows silent, holding his breath. “Are you ready for this, Ella May? Because it’s super intense.”
I nod excitedly. “Bring on the intensity.”
His fingers start moving gracefully across the strings, and everything around me, the room, my thoughts, my body blurs away into something that I never thought I could be. When he sings the first few lyrics, the soft, melodious sound of his voice blankets me and I float away to a place of memories linked to emotions that connect his soul to mine.
I see you standing inside the crowd, heart hidden inside, drowning in pain, no way to get out.
The pain stabs at my heart, bleeds inside me, because if you’d just let me, I’d take all the pain away.
You think no one needs you. That you don’t deserve anything else, so you let yourself drown.
But I sink with you, refusing to let go. I want to take away the pain and let it bleed into my soul.
He starts to pluck the strings with more passion, the volume increasing as he closes his eyes, his voice intensifying as he reaches the chorus.
Know that no matter what happens
through the hurt, the sadness, the burning ache inside my chest
I’ll always be with you, inside and out.
Through hard times and helpless ones, through love, through doubt
My heart is yours forever. I’ll never let go. I’ll never let you sink.
I’ll carry your pain for you if you just let me.
He pauses as he plays a few more intense notes and then opens his lips again.
The way I feel about you burns deep inside my chest, feelings I hold in, but desperately want to let out.
It hurts every time I’m around you, hoping things will change, that somehow I’ll find a way to save you,
find a way to stop you from drowning, pull you back and take your place, let the pain take me over.
God, please just let me take the pain away before it kills me because I can’t watch you drown anymore.
Because I need you. I want you. I can’t live without you.
The pitch of his voice is a little uneven at the end, but it still sounds beautiful and his fingers keep playing, his eyes still shut.
Know that no matter what happens
through the hurt, the sadness, the burning ache inside my chest
I’ll always be with you, inside and out.
Through hard times and helpless ones, through love, through doubt
my heart is yours forever. I’ll never let go. I’ll never let you sink.
I’ll carry your pain if you just let me.
God, please just let me.
His voice drifts off as he plucks a sequence of notes and then finishes the song. He sits quietly for a moment, his chest rising and falling before he opens his eyes. Then he takes one look at me and his eyes widen in alarm.
“Shit.” He shoves the guitar aside and scoots across the bed toward me. “Baby, you don’t need to cry. It wasn’t supposed to be a sad song.”
I touch my fingers to my cheeks and they’re soaked with tears. I hadn’t even realized I was crying or when I began to, but I’m guessing probably from the start because each word hit me powerfully in the heart.
“I’m not sad,” I tell him, wiping the tears away with my hand. “I just didn’t know you felt like that all the way back when you were fifteen. It means you felt like that for a really long time.”
He traces his fingers down my cheeks, erasing the tears, but the feelings behind them still linger in me and I’m glad. “I couldn’t even understand the lyrics myself at first, but when I finally did I realized I loved you and I’d do anything to make you happy.”
More tears flow from me and I don’t even try to hold them back—I couldn’t even if I tried. Too much emotion was in that song and it still burns in my heart, too fresh, raw, but in the most wonderfully real way. I think about all those years where it was just him and me and all the many more years we have ahead of us.
As I climb onto his lap, I circle my arms around him and hug him tightly. “Just so you know, you were the one who didn’t let me drown. If it wasn’t for you, I probably would have given up,” I say and he rubs his hand up and down my back. “And I’m glad you didn’t let me.”
Chapter 21
Micha
I wasn’t expecting her to cry. I knew the song was really intense and emotional, which is why I’d never sung it to anyone before, but Ella’s not a crier and her tears only added beauty to the moment.
I hold on to her as the sun disappears behind the mountains and the room shifts to a dark gray, the lamp the only source of light in the room. Finally her tears subside and she moves away from my chest. Her eyes are red and puffy as she dabs her fingers across her cheeks. “So what did you find in my mom’s journal?” she asks.
I raise my eyebrows. “You want to read it now? I thought you wanted to wait?”
She brushes her hair out of her face. “I guess so, since you said I had to read them before the wedding and it’s tomorrow.”
I smile as she traces the cursive lines of the tattoo on my rib cage. “Tomorrow and you’re all mine.”
Her lips itch to smile as she stares down at the tattoo. “I think I was yours a long time ago.”
“You think so?”
“No, I know so, at least I do now.” She tilts to the side and grabs the journal off my nightstand and then hands it to me. “Will you read it to me… the page you said I need to read?”
I nervously nod, hoping she’ll take what I read as a good thing, and then I lie us down on our sides, facing each other with our heads on the pillow and our legs tangled together underneath the sheet. Her fingers fold around my ribs as I hold the journal up, turning it to the page that I marked. “I think it’s the vows she wrote right before she married your dad.”
“Really?” She seems shocked. “Are you sure they’re her vows, because it didn’t seem like she was too eager to marry him.”
“Well, I’m pretty sure this is about your dad, since it says To Raymond on the top,” I say with a smile. “And it’s nice, what she wrote. Short and simple, but nice.”
“Is that how our vows are going to be?” she asks, peeking up through her long lashes, giving me a hopeful look.
“They can be however you want them to be,” I reply. “And if you still want to back out, you can.”
“No thanks.” She nestles her head into the crook of my shoulder. “ ’K, I’m ready. Read what she wrote.”
I take a deep breath.
I was living in a world where nothing made sense. Darkness. Instability. Life on the verge of death. Then you came into my life and shined through the darkness, showing me that light did exist. And for a moment I walked the path, breathed for the first time in a long time. You gave me air and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Without you, I wouldn’t remember what it was like not to suffocate. Without you, I wouldn’t remember what the light felt like. And I’ll always love you for that, Raymond Daniels.
I stop reading and look down at Ella, checking her reaction. She looks like she’s going to cry again and then suddenly she sits up and moves out of my arms.
Before I can respond, she’s climbing out of bed and pulling a shirt over her head.
“What are you doing?” I ask, sitting up.
She slips on a pair of jeans, shimmying them up to her hips, and then she fastens the button. “Going to talk to my dad.”
I’m puzzled, but I don’t want to press. She doesn’t look upset, only eager as she puts on her boots and reaches for her jacket hanging on the bedpost. Then she takes the journal from me, rips out the page I just read, and stuffs it into her pocket.
“I’m going to give this to my dad.” She leans across the bed and presses her lips to my mouth. “I’ll be right back,” she says, breathless with enthusiasm as she hurries to the door, leaving me alone in my room and a little stunned.
I wasn’t expecting her to be so enthusiastic about it, but I’m glad she is. I want her to be happy. I just hope I can keep doing that for her, make all the right decisions, keep her smiling, laughing, keep any pain away, just like my lyrics begged her to let me do.
Chapter 22
Ella
I run over to my house with a crazy amount of energy fueled by the piece of paper in my pocket. I’m not even sure if it is her vows. In fact, I think it’s not, but what I do know is that my dad deserves to read the words, deserves to know that at one time he made my mom happy when it seemed like it was impossible.
The Firebird is parked in the driveway, so I know my dad’s home. When I burst into the kitchen, I’m relieved to find he’s eating dinner at the table and he’s alone.
He still has on his work clothes, a stained white shirt and jeans that are specked with red paint and there’s some paint splattered on his hands. He has a plate with chicken, potatoes, and a roll on it and a cup of milk in front of him.
His head snaps up in my direction as I come barreling inside the house. “Ella, what’s wrong?” he asks, pushing away from the table and getting to his feet. “You look upset.”
“No, I’m fine. I promise,” I say, breathless as I take the piece of paper out of my pocket. “In fact, I’m sort of happy right now.”
“Well, I’m glad.” His face contorts with confusion, as he looks down at the paper in my outstretched hand. “What is that?”
“It was in Mom’s journal,” I say and his face falls and his mouth plummets to a frown. “Just take it,” I insist. “And read it. I promise you won’t regret it.”
He hesitates and then takes the paper from me. His fingers tremble as he unfolds it and then smoothes the creases out. His eyes start to skim the paper. Seconds tick by and tears form in the corners of his eyes. The tremble in his hands intensifies the farther down he gets and I can tell he’s about to cry, but not out of pain. He doesn’t look upset or hurt. Disappointed. Or sad. He looks… well, strangely relieved.
When he’s finished, he carefully folds it up and then holds it in his hand like it’s something precious. “You said you got this out of her journal?” he asks as he glances up at me.
I nod as I wrap my coat tight around myself, hoping he’s feeling at least a little happiness knowing he made Mom happy. “It was the last page. Was it… was it her vows for your wedding?”
He shakes his head as he stares at the paper in his hand, a tear or two dripping of his eyes. I’m not sure if I’ve ever seen him cry before and witnessing it seems like some sort of miracle that makes me happy but also a little uncomfortable.
He breathes in and out for minutes and then he collects himself and pats my shoulder, giving me this strange look before he pulls me in for a very awkward hug. He smells like cigarettes and paint, but there’s no scent of booze. It’s different and weird, like the hug itself. I remember all those times when I was younger and I watched the other moms at the park hug their kids when they got hurt or just because they wanted to. The many times I watched Micha’s mom hug him when she was happy, sad, or when she wanted to say she was sorry. I remember the first time I was hugged. I was eight and I’d scraped my knee open. Micha tried to hug me better like his mom did with him. His arms barely made it around me before I freaked out and shoved him to the ground. I think about all the hugs that came after that, though, and how each of them became easier.
This one with my dad is far from easy, but maybe if we do it more often, it’ll become easier, just like moving forward in my life has become.
* * *
When I get back to Micha’s house, it’s past nine o’clock. The air is deathly cold and seeping into the quiet house. I kick my boots off at the back door, hang up my jacket on the coatrack, and then pad through the kitchen to Micha’s bedroom, only to find the room dark and him asleep in the bed, his face snuggled into the pillow with the blanket over him.
I flip the lamp on, slip my jeans off, and then quickly hop under the blanket with him. He stirs as I nuzzle up to him and then he tenses when my chilled skin touches his.
“Are you awake?” I ask as I comb my fingers through his soft hair.
He lets out a sigh as his hands find my hips beneath the blanket. “I was having such a good dream, where you snuck into my room and started touching me, but not my hair. It was a much lower place. I think you should try to find it.”
I smile as my fingers drift down his firm chest. “I have to tell you something.”
He eyes open, and they’re red and full of sleepiness. “Should I be worried?”
I shake my head. “Not at all.”
He slides an arm over my stomach and pulls me closer to him. “Tell me then.”
“I want to go on the road with you,” I say and as soon as I say it, I know it’s the right choice. For us. “I’ll take the rest of my classes online and quit my job.”
He’s silent and full of surprise. It takes him a moment to answer and when he speaks his voice is off pitch. “Are you sure you want to quit your job?”
“I want to be with you all the time. And I want to watch you play and just draw things that mean stuff to me, like you and I and the places we’ve been, all our spots, like the lake and your room, the tree you used to climb into my window… the one that always brought you to me,” I say with honesty. “If I could picture my life being any way, that’s how I’d picture it. It’s what I want to do.”
His expression is unreadable as he searches my eyes for the truth. “Are you sure? Because you have a few weeks to think about it and I want you to be absolutely sure. I never want you to do anything you don’t want to do. I—”
I interrupt him. “Micha, I’m sure if you’re sure. I want to spend as much time as I can with you—I want to be with you and I want you to live out your dream.”
“I’m sure about anything as long as it means I get to have you,” he tells me with passion in his tone as he shakes his head with bewilderment in his eyes, like he can’t believe that this is happening. “And yes, I want you to come with me more than anything.”
“Even more than you want to marry me?”
“Maybe not quite that much, but it’s close.”
We share a quiet moment as we contemplate our future and where it’ll hopefully take us. At least that’s what I’m thinking about. With Micha, I never know, especially when his hand wanders down to my ass and he gets this naughty look on his face.
“Are you nervous about tomorrow?” he asks as he presses his mouth against my forehead. His finger circles around the infinity mark on my lower back, sending shivers and tickling vibrations through my body.
“Honestly, yeah,” I tell him as my fingers hook the top of his boxers. “You?”
He slides his hand up my side and then down my arm to my hand. “Honestly, a little, but mainly because I’m worried everyone’s going to freeze their asses off.”
“Are you nervous that I’ll run?” I don’t even know why I ask it. It just sort of slips out and I can’t help but think of the morning after the night on the bridge, when I decided to run and then just a week ago when we were originally supposed to get married. Neither time was because I didn’t love him. Even the night on the bridge, I did love him even though I wouldn’t admit it. And that time I ran because I didn’t love myself.
“Honestly?” he asks and I nod. “No, not really.”
“Not at all?” I ask. “Even considering my past?”
He shakes his head. “I know that you love me, Ella May. Just like I know that emotions freak you out, but deep down you feel more about us than a lot of people feel in their lifetime. Just like I know that you’re scared and excited at the same time. Just like I know that every single day I’ve spent with you, good and bad, has been worth it. And it’s because of those things that I know that you’ll walk up that aisle that Lila’s going to make you walk up, say your vows, kiss me, and then we’ll have our happy, sad, sometimes good, sometimes bad, crazy, bumpy, intense, worth-the-journey ever after.”
His words plunge into my heart and tears well up in my eyes again. “Are you going to say that in your vows tomorrow, because it was pretty perfect.”
He smiles against my forehead. “No, I have something better planned for tomorrow.”
I lean back and look him in the eyes, which are sparkling. “Oh yeah?”
“Yes, yeah.” He lowers his mouth toward mine. “And it’s even better than the lyrics.” And then he kisses me as his hands explore my body. By the time we pull away, we’re exhausted, naked, and sweaty and it’s just after midnight.
“Hey,” I tell Micha as I look at the clock. “It’s officially our wedding day and Christmas.”
“Are you ready to go through with this?” Micha asks as he pins me between his legs and arms.
I nod with my eyes closed, but my heart is knocking inside my chest, wanting to flee. I’m going to get married today. Holy shit! “Yeah.”
“You sound nervous,” he remarks, kissing the top of each of my eyelids.
“I am,” I admit. “But that’s probably normal, right?”
“I’m sure it is.”
“Are you nervous?”
He hesitates. “Yeah, a little.”
I free a breath trapped in my chest and open my eyes. “I’m glad.”
“That I’m nervous?” he questions.
I nod, sliding one of my legs out from between his and hitch it over his hip. “Because it means we’re on the same page and usually that’s not the case.”
He considers what I said and then bends his knee so it’s pressed up between my legs, his body heat blissfully scorching against my skin. “I guess you could look at it that way, at least if it’ll get you up the aisle.”
“I’ll be fine,” I assure him, cringing at the idea of either walking up the aisle alone or with my dad. Neither seems that appealing because alone I’m probably going to freak out, and with my dad, if I do freak out, he won’t be able to calm me down. “Micha… will you… will you walk up the aisle with me or tell Lila we’re just going to skip that part?”
“Can’t you just tell her?” he asks, frowning.
I shake my head. “She’s wedding crazy. Seriously, I think she should consider becoming a wedding planner.”
His arms slip around my waist and then he tastes my mouth with his tongue. “If you want me to walk up the aisle with you, then I will.”
“Thank you,” I whisper and hug him tightly, knowing that if he’s there with me it’ll be so much easier to get through it. Everything is when he’s with me.
It’s quiet for a while, and when Micha speaks again, he sounds a little bit excited.
“So since it’s officially Christmas,” Micha says pulling away from me slightly to look me in the eye, “are you going to give me my Christmas present?”
I frown. “It’s a really silly present.”
“So what?” he says. “Besides, silly presents are the best.”
I sigh and then sit up, slipping from his hold, and then pad over to my duffel bag that’s on the floor in front of the bed. “Okay, but try not to get too disappointed when you open it,” I say, taking out the wrapped-up box with a bow on it. I climb back in to bed and hand it to him.
He grins at the box as he crisscrosses his legs. “Aw, you even wrapped it and put a bow on it and everything,” he says in a teasing voice.
I shake my head and playfully pinch his arm. “Don’t make fun of me. And Lila made me wrap it.”
“I like that you wrapped it,” he says and then rips off the paper like a little kid would. I put the bracelets into a small box, so he has to open that as well. When he gets the lid off, he stares at the thin strips of leather with the words forever engraved on both of them.
When he doesn’t say anything, I start to grow nervous, like he might not get what they are. “They’re like the ones we used to have when we were kids, but I didn’t get the one that says ‘best friends,’ figuring since we were way more than that I’d just get two forevers.”
He glances up at me and I can’t read his expression at all. “I remember. You actually made me wear the one that said ‘best friends’ and it made me sort of feel like girly.”
I frown, regretting the present. “Yet you still wore it.”
“Because you asked me to,” he says. “And we both know I’d do anything for you.”
“Sorry, it’s sappy, right?” I reach for the box to take the bracelets back. “I should have gotten you something better.”
He quickly picks up the box and turns, holding it out of my reach. “Are you kidding me? This is perfect.”
“But you just said they were girly.”
“No, I said that having a bracelet that said ‘best friends’ was girly and that was when I was eight.” He smiles and I start to relax as he takes out one of the bracelets. “This is the perfect present, Ella May, because it means something.”
“It’s kind of a sappy present though,” I say as he slips the bracelet on.
“Which makes you a sap, just like me,” he replies as he takes my wrist and slips the other bracelet on.
“I guess you must be wearing on me,” I joke, and then lean in to kiss him. “But that’s okay.” I fiddle with the bracelet, reducing the size so it’ll fit my wrist, while Micha gets out of bed and starts digging through his dresser drawer. I think he’s looking for a shirt to put on or something, since it’s freezing, so I’m surprised when he returns to the bed still shirtless but with a small wooden box in his hand.
“Now, I didn’t have time to wrap it since I got it for you tonight,” he says, handing the box to me, his hand shaking a little bit, like it did last Christmas when he gave me the engagement ring. “Merry Christmas, Ella May-soon-to-be-Scott.”
I smile, but I’m a little nervous at what the hell he could be giving me that would make him nervous. I take a deep breath as I open the box. Inside is a ribbon necklace with a rose pendant.
“It’s beautiful,” I say with honesty as I run my fingers along the pendant, which feels like porcelain.
Micha lets out a loud breath as he scoots closer to me. “It’s actually from me and your father. It belonged to you mother. He gave it to her on their wedding day and we sort of thought maybe you could wear it at our wedding, as a way to sort of be close to her.”
It’s like he’s pushed this button and without warning I start to cry, tears streaming down my cheeks like a fountain, dripping down my lips, my nose, onto the necklace in the box. I’m not even a crier, yet for some reason, I seem to be crying a lot lately. Usually, I’d fight them back, but I really don’t care at the moment. I just cry. Cry because I’m happy and sad at the same time. Sad because my mom won’t be there, but happy because I’m marrying the love of my life tomorrow.
My head tips down so it takes Micha a second to realize I’m crying. When he does, he cups my face and lifts my head back, immediately wiping the tears away with a worried look on his face.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I was worried about giving it to you because I thought it’d upset you.”
I press my lips together and shake my head. “I’m not at all.”
“Then why are you crying?”
“Because I’m happy,” I say with a smile as tears continue to pour out.
He still looks unconvinced. “So you like the present?”
“I love the present,” I say and then kiss him with so much passion we collapse back onto the bed, the wooden box still clutched in my hand. We kiss until we’re breathless, and then I pull way only to say, “The present is perfect—you’re perfect.”
And he really, really is.
