Chapter Seven

If there was one thing Caitlyn Ross hated it was being woke up in the dead of sleep, dragged out of her warm, comfortable bed by the annoying sound of her doorbell ringing, and forced to make polite conversation when all she really wanted to do was count sheep. Normally, she would make her husband get out of bed, but he was away on a flight to South Africa, and J.J. was still a few years shy of fulfilling the role of man of the house. Grumbling under her breath, the young mother threatened, "I swear to god, if you are a freaking Jehovah Witness, I'm going to shove your damn bible so far up your ass, it'll come back up as secular rhetoric!" Throwing her front door open, she exclaimed, "well, well, I guess it's not an overzealous religious freak; instead, it's the antichrist."

"It's good to see you, too, Caitlyn," Ryan replied sarcastically, nodding his head in silent self-reproach.

"I'd say the same, Atwood, but then I'd be lying." Pulling her thin robe closed, she ushered for him to enter the house. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I need your help."

"Clearly, but what I don't get is why it couldn't wait until tomorrow. Was it really necessary to drag me out of bed at," she glanced down at her watch, "2:47 in the morning."

"Something happened," he admitted, "with Marissa."

"Why doesn't that surprise me," she taunted him. "Sit," Caitlyn ordered, motioning towards the living room. "I'm going into the kitchen to make some coffee; I need some caffeine to wake my tired ass up, and, by the looks of you, it could be a long night. Organize your thoughts, I'll be back."

Five minutes, a pot of coffee, and two steaming cups of instant energy later, the very mismatched pair were sitting across from each other, their defenses up, their expressions guarded, their minds both on the blonde they had in common.

"Alright, give it to me straight. What did you do to my sister now?"

"Why do you automatically assume that it was me who did something to her," Ryan asked, annoyed by the tone the younger woman used with him. Her pointed, all knowing, accusing look made him swallow his words though, bow his head in defeat, and color slightly. "Fine," he admitted, "it probably was my fault, but I didn't mean to hurt her."

"You never do, Ryan, but that hasn't stopped you from breaking her heart in the past."

"This isn't eleven years ago, Caitlyn. I've changed since then, Marissa's changed since then…"

"You're right, my sister has changed since then," the auburn haired woman agreed. "She's a Mom now, so, if you hurt her, you're also going to hurt her children, intentionally or not. Now, quit beating around the bush and just tell me what happened. The last time I saw my sister, it seemed as if things were good between the two of you, like you were getting along and perhaps on your way to becoming friends again."

"We are….were," he conceded, sighing roughly while running his hands through his hair. "But then she came to see me tonight…"

"Wait a minute," Caitlyn interrupted him. "She came to see you….tonight?"

"That's what I said. Are you hard of hearing?"

"Shut up," she directed him, snapping her fingers to emphasize her point. "Who was with the kids, because they sure as hell weren't here?"

"I don't know. Maybe their father had them," Ryan suggested, not noticing the woman across from him roll her eyes at his comment, "but that's not important. She said she had something to tell me, something important, but I wouldn't listen to her."

"Go figure," the young mother whispered under her breath before letting him continue.

"Instead, I wanted to tell her something before she said anything. The last time we were….together, she always said everything important first, and I want things to be different this time."

"Different how exactly," Caitlyn questioned him. "Please do not tell me that you pressured her into having a relationship with you." As he looked away in concurrence, she jumped out of her seat and started pacing across the room. "Jesus Christ, Atwood, what the hell were you thinking. Eleven years after the mess the two of you called a relationship happened, you show up here in Atlanta right as my sister's life gets insanely complicated. Not only was she unsure at the time whether or not her son would survive, but she was also starting divorce proceedings. A few, short meetings later, all of which were anything but private and overly personal, you think it's a good idea to hit her with a confession of what….love and then try to convince her that she should give you a second chance? I've never heard of anything as obtuse and tactless as that!"

"Well, I had to do something before you decided it was time for a little classic Caitlyn Cooper meddling!"

"Don't yell at me in my own home when you came here for my help," the red head exploded, pointing an angry finger into his chest. "As for my interference in my sister's life, I've learned my lesson, okay? I'm going to offer my opinion, solicited or not, give advice when she asks for it, but, other than that, I'm going to stay out of her private life. No more manipulating the circumstances or using them to my advantage. I realize that all my help has really led her to even more heartache, and, despite you being an ass, you were still better for her than Andrew." Taking a deep breath, she sat back down on the couch and tried to compose her frayed temper. "And, for your information, it's Caitlyn Ross now, but you can call me Ma'am or My Esteemed Love Counselor."

"Go to hell!"

"Only on your coattails, Atwood."

In frustration, he stood up and made his way towards the foyer and the front door. "You know what, it was a mistake coming here. You're obviously not going to help me, so why don't I save you the breath of telling me off for the umpteenth time and myself the migraine and just leave now."

"Park it, lover boy," she ordered. "I'll play nice," Caitlyn promised, crossing her right index finger over her heart. "Despite what I think about you, my misguided sister obviously still feels something for you, and, though I had hoped it would be apathy or, better yet, dislike, it's more than that, and, ultimately, I want to see her happy. Besides that, I guess I owe you."

"I know you never approved of me before, but why is it that you think you owe me?"

"That's for my sister to explain and for me to deny at a later date," the younger woman confessed, "but for now we need to figure out what exactly you did wrong tonight, what you're doing with my sister, and how you're going to fix it."

"I told her that I would do anything to do help her or her children, that I needed her, and then I kissed her."

"Did she kiss you back?"

"Yes, but what does that matter?"

"It doesn't. I was just curious." Rolling her eyes at his annoyed expression, she went on. "Did anything else happen?"

"No. She kissed me back for a few seconds, and then she ran."

"Why didn't you tell her how you feel," Caitlyn inquired, "and, for that matter, what exactly do you feel for my sister?"

"I love her. I think I have since the moment I first looked into her eyes all those years ago on that plane."

"Yeah, yeah, that's all well and good, disgustingly mushy and romantic, but it's not just you and her anymore, Ryan," she pointed out. "She's a Mom now, so where do those three kids figure into this equation you have in your head that equals you and my sister together again, this time in an actual functioning relationship?"

"They just make me love her even more," he admitted. "I've seen her with Rowan, and that little girl is the cutest thing in the world besides her Mother."

"Even cuter than me," Caitlyn teased, laughing at the frown that instantly covered his face. Snorting at his expression, she ordered, "go on, keep talking."

"Marissa's an amazing mother, and, although I haven't met all of her children, I know they're just as special as Rowan is. Plus, they're a part of her, so of course I'm going to love them. No questions asked, if she will let me be a part of their lives, I want to raise those three children with her, and, perhaps, add another one or two to our family."

"So, since I'm a part of my sister, does that mean that you automatically love me, too?"

"You're a pain in my ass, Caitlyn," Ryan answered, "and no connection to Marissa is going to change that. I'm making nice with you right now simply because I need your help. After tonight, you and I both know this semi-truce we have going on right now is going to be called off, and it'll be back to battle as usual."

"Damn straight," she agreed with him. "Now that we have that clear, I have three questions for you. You said you love her, but are you IN love with her?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to be with her?"

Yes."

"Is there anything that could make you turn away from my sister, that could make you stop loving her?"

"Nothing that I can imagine," he confessed with a small smile. "Marissa, she's it for me; she's the woman I am meant to be with, the woman I wish I would have met when I was a teenager so I could have married her twenty one years ago instead of Theresa."

Standing up, Caitlyn motioned for him to follow her back towards the entrance. Opening the door, she stopped him from leaving by speaking. "Then go to her, tell her everything that you told me, and be patient with her. I know you think that this is something that should be simple, that you want to sweep her off of her feet, but my sister's scared, and there's more going on underneath the surface than what you're aware of. Listen to her, do not judge, and remember those three questions and those answers you gave me, because you're going to need that resolve to get past what's waiting for you and achieve the future you want."

"Thank you…for helping me. I know I'm not your favorite person…."

"But you love her, and, even if she won't admit it to me with words, I know that she loves you, too, and, ultimately, I want my sister happy. For some odd reason, you seem to be the one man who can give her that. Now, get out of here. She's at her studio in town; that's where she and the kids are living now. And Ryan," she paused, waiting for him to turn back around to look at her, "for what it's worth, I'm sorry….for everything."

"Me, too, Caitlyn," he sympathized, acknowledging her apology with an appreciative nod of his head and one of his own, "me, too."

"Four in the morning, Caitlyn," Marissa whined under her breath, punctuating her complaints with loud, staccato stomps down the hard wood steps of her studio. "Four freaking o'clock in the morning, you've got to be kidding me! What did I do to deserve this in my past life: steal a handbag from a nun, run over small children with my tricycle, lick all the filling out of a package of Oreos and then sell them to a blind man?" Wrapping her slender hand around the doorknob, her eyes still partially closed due to sleep, she threw the door open and yelled, "what," startling the person standing in front of her.

"Now I know where your sister gets her people skills," Ryan teased, laughing softly at the frazzled blonde in front of him after he regained his composure. "If you two ever see an advertisement for an etiquette class, I'd recommend signing up for it. First, she opens the door threatening to violently accost a bible thumper, and then, just now, I could hear you talking to yourself the whole way down the stairs. Aren't you afraid you'll wake up the kids?"

"Slow down," she ordered him, leaning against the doorjamb and taking a deep breath. "I'm a little out of it still, and you're talking way too damn fast." Without realizing it, her actions caused her long, navy, satin robe to fall open, revealing an equally rich but much shorter nightgown of the same material and color, a sight that Ryan's thirsty eyes drank in appreciatively. "In my sister's defense, before we get to everything else you just mentioned, bible thumpers are annoying. I'd take them out, too. As for me, what were you expecting in the middle of the night, tea and crumpets? You know how I get when someone wakes me up too early."

Smirking widely, he grinned at her, his gaze playful and wicked. "Yes, I do."

"So, you should have been prepared for my rambling, a little incomprehensible gibberish, and a swear word or two."

"What I remember about waking you up too early in the morning is how your eyes would be all cloudy and dark with dreams, a deep indigo I could willingly lose myself in." Taking a step closer to her, Ryan let his hand brush against her forearm, hoping she wouldn't pull away from his touch. She didn't. "What I remember is the way your perfectly kissable lips would pout slightly from irritation and disapproval. You thought you looked angry, but the only emotions those pouts used to scream to me were attraction and arousal." Again, he moved closer towards her, sliding his hand up her arm to eventually let it rest against the underside of her jaw, his thumb soothing a gentle pattern along her chin. "What I remember is how your hair would always appear tousled, like you had been well loved the night before, and I always imagined what it would really look like if we did get to spend a night together and then wake up in each others arms the next morning."

"Don't do this, Ryan," she begged, edging away from him. Her words were pleading, the volume low and strained as if she were fighting an inner battle. "You can't come here and say those things to me, not now, not after everything that's happened between us, not after what I did."

"You're right," he agreed with her, letting his hand drop to his side. "There are more important things that we have to say."

Agreeing with him, she shook her head, but the action also seemed to clear her mind of the haze it had been under, helping her to focus. "You said you went to see Caitlyn. Why?"

"I needed her help. I needed someone to listen to me about you, to give me advice, to make it clear to me exactly what I wanted. I needed someone to bounce my ideas and feelings off of."

"And did it help," Marissa asked curiously. "I mean, my sister's not exactly unbiased or even passive enough to sit by and let you work things out on your own. She'd probably try to tell you how you should feel and then make it sound so rational, you'd believe her."

"Actually, after you put aside our squabbling and slight digs at each other, talking to her made me realize four very important things." He waited for her to ask about his self-revelations, but, when she merely stood there, silent, watching him, he cleared his throat, took a step into the studio, and shut the door behind him. Turning back around, his gaze locked with that of the woman standing in front of him. If he was going to tell her how he felt, he needed her to not only hear his sincerity but see it as well. There had been too much miscommunication between them, too many misunderstandings, too many missed opportunities. "For one, I realized that your children need a father, and I don't mean one in name but a man who will be there to help get them ready for school in the mornings, a man who will drop off their forgotten lunches on his way to work, go to parent-teacher meetings, coach their t-ball team, a man who will read them the same bedtime story every night, over and over again, simply because it was their favorite, but I don't want just any man to fill this role with your three children; I want it to be me. I want the horrifying experience of having to tell your son Bailey about the birds and the bees in a few years time, I want to follow Rowan on her first, her fifth, and her fiftieth date, I want to be there for Quentin's first day of school, taking his picture and holding you cry when you as the school bus pulls away from the driveway, and I want to be there when you have your fourth child, at its conception, its first sonogram, and the moment its born. I want all of this, because those children, the ones you have already and the ones you'll have in the future, are a part of you which means they're already a part of me, too."

"Stop, Ryan, please stop," she choked out, furiously attempting to wipe away the tears that were so readily, so easily, so uncontrollably falling from her pained eyes. "You don't know what you're saying…or who you're saying it to. I'm not the woman I once was, the woman you fell in love with eleven years ago. I've done so many things I'm not proud of…"

"Haven't we all," he interrupted her, moving to dry her tears, but she pushed his hands away. Accepting the fact that she needed physical distance between them, he let her move away from him before speaking again. "Don't you get it," he asked, his words dripping with a desperation he hadn't felt in years, not since she walked away from him. "I don't care what you've done; nothing could change how I feel about you."

"And what's that, Ryan?"

"I'm in love with you," he shouted, unable to keep a smile off his face. "I've been in love with you since the moment you confessed you weren't wearing any underwear on a transcontinental flight, and I will be in love with you for the rest of my life. I promise you that there is nothing you could do or say that would ever make me stop loving you."

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

"What," he questioned her, suddenly worried, "what is wrong? Why don't you believe me when I say that I want to be with you, that I'll always want to be with you?"

"I do believe you," she reassured him, unable to push him away completely like she knew she should, "but that only makes it worse, because I'm standing here, looking into your eyes, and I can see how much you mean what you say, but it's all going to be destroyed in a matter of seconds when I tell you what I have to say." Choking on a sob, she finally broke down and would have collapsed onto the floor if Ryan wouldn't have caught her around the waist, bringing her shuddering body in to rest against his protective, stronger frame. "Don't do this, Ryan," she asked of him, her words pushing him away while the arms she wrapped around his waist begged him to remain close. "Don't let me hurt you anymore than I'm already going to."

"Baby," he soothed, "you could never hurt me, not intentionally."

"I did," Marissa confessed. "I will."

"No, I want you to listen to me." Dropping his hands away from her body, he moved them so that her back was resting up against the wall and he was pressed intimately against her trembling body. Cupping her face, he looked deeply into her haunted expression, connecting them in that moment. "I know I don't deserve a second chance, that it's perfectly understandable that you think I'll hurt you again, and that I have no right to be here begging you to take me back, to let me into your family, but I'm not that man you were with eleven years ago. You said you've changed, but so have I."

"Please," she whimpered, her voice broken and ragged. It was her last defense, and it was shattering quickly. "You don't know what you're doing…."

"I know exactly what I'm doing," he contradicted her. "I'm finally going after what….who I want for the first time in my life. I'm not afraid any more," Ryan confessed, letting his lips brush delicately against hers, only backing away to whisper one last vow. "I'm not afraid of falling in love with you."

They were the words she had been waiting to hear for eleven years, and they clenched her heart, shattering her resolve into a million pieces. After all, he was there, standing in front of her, promising to love her and her children forever, asking her to be the mother of his future children, beseeching her to give him the second chance she had been wanting to give him since the day she pushed him away. It was everything she wanted at exactly the worst possible time in her life, but, no matter what her mind told her, no matter what her brain commanded her to do, no matter what her conscience dictated, Marissa couldn't pull away from him….not again. So, listening to her heart and obeying the desires of her body, she gave in, returning his embraces with the fervor and passion that had built up within her throughout the years they had been separated, and, as soon as his hands slid beneath her robe, letting the silken material fall gracefully to the floor, to caress her soft skin, the consequences of her actions disappeared and the only thing left was the sensations coursing through her body, making her tremble and sob and pray for him to, once again, become one with her.

Their mouths coupled until neither could survive another moment without air, and, when they pulled apart, Marissa took the opportunity to escape the confines his arms around her created, moving away from him and the wall she had been leaning against. Silently, without further ado, she tenderly hooked her index finger around his in a soft entreaty for him to follow her, but, hesitating slightly, because he was unsure of what was happening, Ryan held back.

"I….wha….what are we doing?"

"Ssh," she commanded, sliding the digits of her left hand across his moist lips. "I want you to make love to me." She watched as he swallowed thickly in eager anticipation, his eyes sparkling with a level of passion and devotion she had never seen before, not even during the night they had spent together eleven years before, and, in that moment, nothing else needed to be said between them.

Leading him into her office, Marissa shut the door behind them, leaving the light turned off and allowing the room to be illuminated only by the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the sheer curtains. It cast a glimmer over everything it touched, shadowing the rest of the world from their inner sanctuary but highlighting the feelings flowing through them and into each other. Once the door was closed, the two made their way towards the couch, Ryan sitting first before pulling her down to rest upon his lap. Her supple body was clad only in her thin nightgown, leaving her vulnerable and exposed.

At first their actions were tentative, the gentlest of caresses as they both let their hands re-explore the others body, the daintiest of kisses as their palates slowly joined together to form one delicious, dizzying taste of their combined essence, the shyest steps to further their mutual seductions as his hands made their underneath her gown while hers leisurely unbuttoned his shirt. Eventually though, their desire overtook them, their embraces became more powerful, and their clothing disappeared, leaving the reunited lovers entangled in each others arms, their glistening, tremulous limbs wrapped around each other to the point where it was impossible to discern where one began and the other ended.

Their lovemaking was mutual, complimentary, a shared expression of everything they had ever felt for one another and everything they both believed they could be as a couple. Movements slow and sensual, their bodies stretched out across the cool leather of the couch, they held each other while the crescendo of their desire reached its culmination. When she exhaled, he breathed in her gasps of desperate desire; when he convulsed with the strength of his release, she cradled his pleasantly exhausted body in her arms, inspiring him to want more, encouraging him to need more, begging him to ask for more. And, finally, when neither could hold on for another moment, when their passion finally reached its pinnacle, Marissa lifted her head off the couch to recapture his mouth in hers, sipping from his lips and tasting the frantic intensity of his feelings.

"I love you, too," she finally whispered, pulling away from him just slightly so their gazes could lock together once again, blue on blue, the fire they shared for one another surging between them as they succumbed to the humming tremors and pulsating vibrations that propelled their pleasured bodies over the abyss and into a sea of contentment, exhilaration, and beauty only their could inspire within each other. After eleven years, Ryan and Marissa finally went back home.

The morning was quickly approaching, a morning that would bring reality tumbling down upon them, a morning that would usher in cereal bowls and orange juice, pigtails and blue sparkle toothpaste, responsibilities and commitments, but all Marissa wanted to do was bury her face deeper into Ryan's bare chest and stay hidden away from the rest of the world for as long as she could in the private oasis they had created together in her office. She wanted to lounge on the leather couch all day, interrupting their rest only to make love again and again. She wanted to remain bare and unclothed, simply enjoying the tickling sensations the fine hair on Ryan's legs caused on her own. She wanted to watch him breathe, trace the definition of every single one of his muscles, lay back and let him kiss every freckle he could find on her body no matter how intimate the embraces might be. However, she knew they were on a runaway train headed on a downhill track with no brakes or means of stopping, and that left them with one option: crashing.

She should have listened to her instincts, fought against her heart, and demanded that Ryan heed her warnings that he would not be able to love her once she revealed the truth, but, because she hadn't, because she had opened her life back up to the man who had hurt her so badly in the past, she was exposed and in danger of destroying not only her own life but the lives of her children as well. He was a part of her again, so she would never be able to look him in the eye and perpetuate the lie by omission she had been living since the moment she had pushed him out of her world. No matter what, she would tell him the truth; she would risk her own happiness to make right the mistake that would eventually devastate her if not corrected. Unfortunately, by giving Ryan the son he deserved and Bailey the father he had always dreamed of, she would be depriving herself of the one thing she had dreamed of since a little girl: someone's unconditional love.

Closing her eyes, Marissa stemmed the tears that were threatening to spill down her still blushed and glowing face. She was determined not to cry and, instead, was resigned to enjoying every last second she still had with Ryan while it lasted. It was rather ironic though, their relationship. It had taken years for him to realize he was no longer afraid of falling in love with her, but, by the time he confessed that his fear was gone, she was being controlled by her own anxiety. While she had never been afraid of falling in love with him, she was afraid he would not be there to catch her once the truth was revealed, and that fear was something she could not deny any longer.