Chapter Four

Stretching her long limbs luxuriously, Marissa smiled to herself when she realized that, yet again, she was not waking up alone. She couldn't even remember exactly how it had happened, but one thing had led to another, and here they were, curled up together in Marissa's bed.

"Are you ready to get up girl," Marissa asked the still healing golden retriever beside her. The excited yip was enough of an answer that Marissa climbed out of bed and went around to the other side to pick up her sleeping companion, thus beginning their new morning routine.

At first, Ryan had commuted back and forth with Q, driving to work with her and then going home at night, again, with her in the passenger side of the truck, but the sudden stops and starts, jerks and jabs that were unavoidable no matter how carefully he drove were rough on her ailing body, so it had been decided, by Marissa after some serious coaxing, that she would remain in Newport with her and she would take care of her until she was healed.

Now two weeks after the accident, the kitchen was finished, right on schedule, and Ryan was completing the last step in there that Friday, installing the new appliances. Once he finished with that, they were going to finalize her plans for her bathroom remodel.

The first thing she and Q did every morning was go outside. She would gently put the dog down outside so she could go to the bathroom while she went to the front yard to retrieve the newspaper and, as she teased the dog, give her some privacy. Coffee preparation while Q ate her breakfast followed, and Marissa would then make breakfast for her and Ryan after relocating the injured pooch into the living room and positioning her on her favorite chair. She would eat her breakfast in the living room, watch over and keep Q company, and then go and shower after Ryan arrived. While she was getting ready for the day, he would eat the breakfast she prepared for him and sit with Q until she returned.

It was strange how easily they fell into a routine, a system…..a partnership, Marissa liked to think of it. This was how a marriage was supposed to work, she found herself musing often. The husband and wife worked together, had equal responsibilities, and shared their lives.

Throughout the day while Ryan would work on the kitchen, Marissa would do her chores, laundry, cleaning, yard work, errands, but no matter what, they always stopped what they were doing to eat lunch together and just….talk about their lives. Following lunch, they'd go back to their respective chores, and whenever Marissa was finished she would join him in the kitchen, sporadically leaving to check on a slumbering Q, to research finishes online, chat with him, or merely just sit there so she wasn't alone. Her favorite moments with him were when she caught him smiling at her and laughing to her stories about her sons or when she noticed that he wanted her to be with him, when her company was not only tolerated but sought.

After his initial reluctance the first night, it was always an easy task to convince him to stay for dinner. Sometimes they would cook together on the grill, other times, when they were both rather tired, they would just order in. On particularly hot nights they would go swimming, but Marissa made sure that she wore her most conservative suits. She was no longer just attracted to him; she liked him, and she was no longer just intrigued by him; she was captivated, and she did not want to make it seem as if she wanted to use him for anything. Other nights found them watching movies, playing cards, or simply sitting and talking with each other.

Even though he spent six out of his seven days there, he never stayed the night again after that first time. On some level, despite the fact that Marissa knew it was unreasonable and that she was over-reacting, she felt as if she was not attractive enough for him, that he was just, without a doubt, not interested in her at beyond a simple, uncomplicated, no strings attached friendship. If only she knew the truth….

Ryan felt as if he couldn't breathe. Being this close to her and having to push aside everything he was feeling and attempt to deny what simply looking at her did to him physically and emotionally was slowly driving him insane. Somewhere along the way the woman who he, granted, had been attracted to but who also drove him crazy with her incessant ramblings and questionable motivations now all of a sudden consumed him.

Sleeping was nearly impossible. From the very first night when he had to go running to sooth his raging mind, he had only added more miles onto his arduous journey, sometimes not stumbling into bed until the early morning hours. Even then though, he sometimes could not sleep as pictures of her, tiny snapshots of her face, of her body, scenes where she would accidentally brush up against him or let go of all her reservations and past pain and just….be herself were constantly dancing across his waking dreams and sleeping fantasies.

She was never more beautiful to him than when she talked about her sons, Garrett and Cooper, and without even realizing it, he couldn't wait to meet them. He wanted to get to know her children and could picture them playing in her backyard with Q when she was better. If Ryan's mind had been functioning rationally, he would have realized his feelings went beyond friendship, but he couldn't analyze anything.

When he was with her his mind was focused upon keeping up the façade that they were just friends, and when he was alone with her only in his mind he was focused upon thoughts, feelings, and actions that screamed of the fact that their platonic relationship was anything but that….at least for him. He had no idea how she felt.

Sitting in her living, his plate from the breakfast he had no recollection of eating on his lap, evidence that he was at least functioning properly on autopilot, Ryan raised his weary eyes to his dog.

"What am I going to do," his voice rang out confused and dejected. "You have no idea how much I'd rather trade you places right now, Q, even with your bum leg, busted eye, and bruised body. Hell, it's not like I haven't had two out of three of those plenty of times in the past."

Unfortunately for Ryan, his dog did not even raise her head to look at him; she just snored on, lost to the world. Despite his lack of a captive audience or perhaps because of it, Ryan just continued talking to himself, attempting to arrange his thoughts out loud.

"I wonder what she's up to; she's been gone a while," Ryan questioned pacing about the room, plate still in hand. "Do you think we should go and look for…."

Cutting him off and making him turn a deep red, his ears practically on fire, Marissa spoke up.

"Look for what," she asked innocently, curious as to what Ryan was so worked up about. As soon as her voice sounded in the room, Q's head snapped up and she started wagging her tail. Laughing, Marissa made her way to her. "Hey there girl, was Ryan boring you to death with brooding stares, angry glances, and the occasional word that resembles a grunt?" Turning towards him, she raised a teasing eyebrow. "Talking to your dog now, Atwood, and what would the guys say about that?"

"Um….yeah….the, um, thingy, you know……yeah, I'm going to go and look for it now," Ryan spit out, stumbling all over his own words and not making a bit of sense. As soon as he moved away from her, he took a deep breath and sighed inaudibly. Without another word, he silently left the living room, returned his plate to kitchen sink to be washed, and made his way outside to get the non-existent…..thingy.

He did not have to look back inside for he knew that Marissa was laughing at his strange behavior and talking to Q herself, despite the fact that she had just teased him about it, but she would have been shocked to see Ryan.

Pacing across her front yard like a madman, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his hands balled up in frustrated fists inside of his front jeans' pocket, and his chest rising and falling rapidly due to the adrenaline coursing through his body.

She looked amazing, he thought to himself as his mind raced back to the newest picture of Marissa stored in his memory. Fresh faced, her hair was up and off of her neck, the day too humid and sticky for her long locks to cover her delicate skin. Her dress was long and loose, flowing, light and crisp, a soft, pale green which tied at her shoulders, the straps thin and meeting in a slightly plunging neckline, obviously revealing the necessity of wearing the outfit without a bra, tantalizing Ryan, teasing his senses.

Taking a couple deep breaths, he laughed at himself before walking back into the house knowing that it was going to be a long day and eagerly anticipating every agonizing millisecond of it.

Standing in Marissa's bathroom, Ryan was busy making notes as to things she pointed out that she did not like and marking down her wish list for the space.

"Basically what I hate the most about the room is that it's so dark," she told him as she ambled around the generous lavatory, running her graceful hand over the fixtures and treatments that would soon be removed. "I want it to be airy, fresh, inviting….an oasis."

"That doesn't help me too much Marissa," Ryan teased her. "I need to know specifics, things like what building materials you want to use, do you want a single or double shower, soaking tub or Jacuzzi…."

"Antique claw foot," she yelled out excitedly, spinning around to face him and clapping her hands together. "That is one thing I do know that I want." Moving to sit down on the ledge of the pre-existing tub, she slid to the floor and crossed her legs before patting the space beside her indicating that Ryan should join her. "Sit with me. I don't need a crick in my neck looking up at you."

Smirking, he rearranged himself on the ground not quite as gracefully as she did. "Well now you know how it felt for me when you waltzed into the kitchen last week in those four inches heels. Talk about intimidating!"

"Aw," she teased him, nudging his shoulder with her own before lowering her lashes over her eyes and peeking at him through the corners, "but the end result of the look was worth a little bit of a bruised ego wasn't it?"

"Oh, hell yeah," he agreed emphatically, literally shocking Marissa into silence. She had not expected him to say anything. Normally when she attempted to flirt playfully with him, he just laughed her comment off and moved on to less dangerous areas of conversation. So surprised, her eyes flew up to meet his, the silent acknowledgment of his compliment and a wordless signal of gratitude for it were exchanged before Ryan cleared his throat and changed the subject. "So anyway," he began unsure of himself, "you want a claw foot tub."

Feeling as if she had embarrassed him enough for one afternoon, she left the moment of open attraction behind her and leapt right back into the discussion on the remodel of her bathroom. "Not just any claw foot tub," she dismissed his statement. "I want an antique one with the original fixtures." Before he could reply, she continued on in an excited manor. "We could use it as the whole inspiration for the room. I tend to like antiques, so we could find old dressers, refinish them, and then use them as vanities for the sinks. We could find old, Victorian light fixtures, too, make the bathroom look as period as possible while still modern in function and practicality. What do you think?"

"I think," Ryan began, a smile erupting on his face and illuminating it, "I think you're going to have to go shopping this weekend."

"What do you mean I have to go shopping," Marissa pondered out loud, puzzled. "Why can't we both go together? I'm going to need someone to carry everything for me."

"Glad to see why you really want me around," he shot back at her, his light tone making it obvious he did not really think that.

"No, I'm serious," she said honestly, "I want you to come with me. I bet you're good with the dealers…."

"Dealers," he asked, "I thought you were going shopping for a tub, dresses, and light fixtures not coke?"

"I'm going to flea markets and antique stores, hence the dealer reference," she mocked with a roll of her eyes. "You'll be able to tell me when they're gauging the prices and what products are of better quality."

"You'll do fine on your own," Ryan dismissed her concerns. "I'll stay here and start on the demolition while you shop till you drop."

"Fine." Standing up, Marissa moved towards the door that would take her back into her room so they could go back downstairs. "I'm hungry, so I'm going to go cook dinner and check on Q. See you downstairs." And with that, she left him sitting there fairly bewildered by her cold behavior and completely blind to the mischievous look upon her face.

"What the hell," Ryan groaned as he rolled over in bed and saw that his alarm clock read 4:30 AM. He had not fallen asleep after his nightly dose of Marissa torture until three. Climbing out of bed, only in his boxers, hair askew and sticking up from tossing and turning, he made his way to the front door only to throw it open carelessly to reveal Marissa standing regally in front of the a glowing horizon. Without a hair out of place, she breezed into his house, uninvited, and made her way to his kitchen.

"Go and get dressed and I'll make us a pot of coffee. You do have a thermos so we can take it to go, right," she asked making herself at home and looking as if she belonged in his kitchen.

Wish she did, he couldn't help but think to himself before shaking off his irrational dream and answering her question as he went off in search of clothes, raising his voice so she could hear him through the little bungalow.

"Try the cabinet above the stove." The house was quiet for a moment, well except for Marissa's soft humming, but, breaking the silence, Ryan yelled out, "What are you doing here, and why do I have to get dressed? It's still pretty early."

Although he had raised his voice, it sounded muffled to Marissa so she crept down his hall and stopped outside of the door she could hear him moving around the inside of.

"You don't have to yell any longer. I'm right here," she explained, having no idea that her close proximity was sending Ryan's imagination into overdrive. She was, after all, practically in his bedroom. "We're going to flea markets first; that's why we're leaving so early," Marissa explained. "Afterwards we'll go and check out local antique shops, and if you even try to argue with me, go ahead and go to my house to try and work. I changed the code for the security system. You'd be arrested within five minutes for breaking and entering."

He laughed silently so she couldn't hear him before replying. "You really don't take no for answer, do you?"

"Not when it's something I really want," she shot back at him, her voice void of any humor or playfulness. Ryan knew that tone and what she said was laced with innuendos only he could understand.

It took him a few minutes to get his body under control, but once he did, he finished getting dressed and called out for her telling her it was safe to come in, his voice slightly shaky.

"I'll be just a second," he said as he made his way towards his bathroom. "I just need to shave quickly and brush my teeth. You can sit down, and then this way we can talk while I'm in the bathroom." Pausing only briefly, he then remembers something important that was bothering him. "Where's Q?"

"She's out in my car, sleeping soundly." Just as he went to protest, she continued talking, cutting him off. "Don't worry. Last night while I was planning this little stroke of genius, I came up with a way she can be with us the whole time we walk around the market and be comfortable at the same time."

"So that's why you were so quiet during dinner, you were plotting this?" Laughing at her as the smirk on her face was enough of an answer, he went back into the bathroom and started shaving, peeking through the mirror every few seconds to watch her.

She seemed perfectly content in his house. He thought perhaps she would seem out of place and be awkward; it wasn't quite up to Newport standards, but she seemed more relaxed in his home than she did in her own, something he found rather interesting. As he looked at his reflection he was shocked to see a smile on his face that was apparently, he noticed after attempting to break it, there to stay and that he was not tired at all. Her presence alone seemed to provide him with energy.

"Are you about done in there," she called out for him. Flopping down on his bed, she took his pillow in her arms and hugged it to her. "I swear you're worse than my mother sometimes and that's saying a lot. Let's go! The dealers aren't going to care if you shave for them, and I have floss in my purse in the car. I'll drive and you can clean your teeth."

"That won't be necessary," he surprised her by saying when he exited the bathroom unannounced. "I'm ready. Now let's go get that coffee. I'll treat us to breakfast there."

"Help," she pleaded with big eyes and pouting lips, holding her hands out for him to pull her up off the bed. Smiling, he obliged, and surprised himself when he held onto her hand as he pulled her out of his room, through the hall, and into the kitchen, only letting go when he had to fill the thermos.

He noticed she was yawning while he poured out the coffee so he spoke up. "I'll drive; you can get a little bit of sleep while we're on our way there. I assume you want to head up to Pasadena and go to the Rose Bowl?"

"Sounds perfect," Marissa agreed as she stifled another yawn. With nothing else said between them, they left the house together at 4:50, climbed into her luxury SUV, and headed north.

Several light fixtures, one dresser, antique door pulls, three homemade quilts all over 150 years old, and an adorable tea set later, Ryan and Marissa were headed north again out of Pasadena to an antique store he knew of on the coast two hours past LA. Marissa was happily eating away at homemade fudge she had purchased at the flea market, occasionally feeding pieces to Ryan as he drove when he asked for one. Q was asleep after sleeping the entire time they were at the Rose Bowl. Marissa thought it was because of her medication; Ryan knew it was because his dog was lazy.

"You know," Ryan teased her, "we are going to have to stop somewhere and get something to eat other than candy. You're going to get sick, what after that ridiculously big donut you had me buy you earlier and now this, I don't know how you can eat all that junk food."

"Listen to you, Mr. I only eat healthy things," she shot back pulling her fingers which held the piece of fudge she was about to give him away from his mouth. "I do believe that you've had your fair share of this, too."

"Yeah, but I also ate fruit this morning for breakfast and not an overstuffed maple cream stick." Glancing over at her he could only laugh when he saw her pop another piece of fudge in her mouth before twisting around in her seat to look for something. "What are you looking for?"

"I usually keep snacks back here for the kids somewhere, and I doubt your zombie of a dog woke up long enough this morning when I was in your house to find them and eat them all. Aha, found them!" Plopping back down in her chair, she revealed her stash of food, goldfish and fun fruits. "Lunch has been served."

Rolling his eyes, Ryan just reached across the console and picked up a packet of goldfish only to have them taken out of his hands, opened, and put back in.

"I don't need you wrecking while you try to open the crackers instead of just asking for my help. Poor Q has been through enough. I don't think she deserves to be injured again."

"Are you kidding me," Ryan made fun of her, "like she'd go anywhere? You have her strapped into that stroller so tightly, I'm surprised she's comfortable enough to sleep." And that's what Marissa had used, a double stroller she had pushed her close in age sons around in when they were babies. The divider had been removed and Q could sprawl across the entire expanse, resting her injured leg while Marissa pushed her around the market.

"Very funny, smart ass," she fought back, her tone playful, "the whole stroller could get tossed around back there, and that would hurt her, so there!"

Ryan went to eat his crackers, thinking that they were entering a loll in the conversation, but he was wrong.

"What does Q's name stand for," Marissa asked curiously, the mock anger she was trying to force a minute earlier completely forgotten.

"Nothing," he answered. "She's just Q, you know like Q from the James Bond movies."

"Oooohhhh," she drew out her exclamation, making it evident that she had something rather cheeky to say, "does that mean you're a fan of Bond Girls?"

Conveniently, she finished her question just as Ryan came to a stop at a light. Turning to her and looking her squarely in the eye, he threw caution to the wind and decided to just see where this could head. "That depends," he said with a smirk, letting her notice that he was running his eyes up and down her body, "is that an offer?"

Marissa didn't say anything, but the pleasant blush and excited spark in her eyes that he saw before turning back to the light and driving off were enough to let him know that if he wanted her to be one, she was willing.

By 4:00 Ryan and Marissa were both exhausted but their trip had been a success. The SUV was loaded to the max with all they could take back with them, several dressers, enough light fixtures for the entire house, and several other things she did not need for the bathroom remodel but liked anyway so she bought them. They had found a tub, and it was going to be delivered Monday morning. Now they just had a two and half hour drive back to Newport and the sleep they both were anticipating fondly, but things were not going to go according to plan.

They were in a suburb, driving by a small park filled with mothers and their children when Ryan looked over and saw Marissa silently crying, attempting, unsuccessfully to wipe away the tears that were flowing rapidly down her face. Unable to take the site of her hurting like that, he pulled the car over, put it in park, unbuckled his seat belt and turned to her. Without a word, she fell into his ready, waiting arms, and he just held her for a moment and let her cry on his shoulder. Once she seemed to be calming down, Ryan leaned down to whisper his concerns to her.

"Hey, what's wrong," he inquired gently, not wanting to upset her again but also needing to know why she was crying. "I thought we had a good day together, that we had fun?"

She pulled away from him. Ryan was shocked by how he immediately felt empty, but ignoring his own feelings, he focused all of his attentions upon her. With red rimmed eyes, she looked up at him and spoke so softly he could barely hear her. Knowing she needed strength, he reached out and took her hand, confidently this time, and held it in his own, soothingly rubbing gentle circles into it.

"No, it was a good day," she quickly said eager to dismiss any of his doubts about the time they had spent together. "In fact, it has been one of the best days of my life, but it's just……"

"You can tell me, Marissa," he encouraged her, "you can tell me anything. I won't judge you."

Smiling and wiping away the tear tracks on her face with her free hand, she nodded her head before she spoke up again. "When we drove past all those mothers and their kids, it just hit me, that's all, how much I miss my boys. I haven't seen them in almost two months and I only get to talk to them for ten minute each a week." Starting to cry again as she talked, she let go of Ryan and buried her face in her hands. "I need to see my kids; I can't do this, be away from them this long. It's just too hard!"

Ryan was pissed. He knew she was a good mom, that she loved her kids, but he did not know that her devotion to them went this far. Cursing her husband for tearing them away from her for three months, he threw her car into drive and spun out of the side of the road, surprising Marissa when she felt him do a U-turn.

"Where…..where are we going," she asked out loud while all the while choking back her sobs.

"We're going on a road trip," Ryan answered, turning briefly to look at her and once again taking her hand in his. "We're going to see your boys."