I wander over to the pond, the spot where we lingered for a while last time. My cheeks glow when I remember the way he complimented me. I relive the attentive glint in his eyes and the tingles that fluttered all over my body.
The park is empty except for me and the shafts of the setting sunlight, coming to rest on the pond as a few ducks make their way across it. Maybe that’s why I feel comfortable enough to start singing.
I raise my voice, letting it carry across the water.
“I never knew you, and you never knew me, but lately, baby, lately… This feels like destiny.”
There are tears in my eyes, the words springing to my lips, well-remembered since I’ve returned to this song many times since we split up.
Ha.
Split up as if we were ever together.
It’s the song I wrote about Ryland before we met when all I knew about him came through a computer screen.
“I know I’m a stranger,” I sing. “Just a face in the crowd. But my mind is a prisoner….”
I trail off, my voice trembling, tears springing hotly to my eyes. I wipe them angrily away, wishing I could be strong. But then, if I was strong, that would mean I’d be able to let Ryland go.
I don’t want to let him go.
“My mind is a prisoner,” I whisper, voice torn with a sob, then I let my voice rise. “To you, to you, to you... and your voice is so loud.”
I’m not sure about the key, the tone, or the strength of my vocal performance. I’m not singing with the aim of sounding good. I’m not even listening to myself.
It’s coming from someplace deep, as though the destiny-driven desire to have a life with my Ryland has taken control.
Wiping another tear from my cheek, I go on, sadness and longing and regret burning up from inside of me.
“In my head, you never stop calling…”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Ryland
It’s like an angel’s voice beckoning to me from across the park.
Rusty whines and runs ahead, stopping to turn and look back at me, tail pricked as though asking me what’s taking so long.
But I keep my footsteps slow, unwilling to give in to hope before I know for sure it’s her.
These past five days have been like slow torture, my mind crumbling, unwilling to turn to anything that isn’t Rachel. I’ve hardly slept, hardly been able to eat, all my focus directed to my woman.
Every second has been like the world’s sickest game.
I can’t look at anything, hear anything, smell anything without thinking about her. That’s why I don’t rush toward her voice, the voice drifting to me across the park, our park.
It sounds like her, but then everything reminds me of her lately.
My PI was unable to find anything with the sparse information I gave him. She hasn’t returned to my apartment. I haven’t had the luck to match with her on the online chat system.
I can’t let my hope flare too brightly.
There’s a real chance I’ll round the corner to find somebody playing music from their phone. Or maybe somebody is singing, but it’s not my woman.
“One day,” the voice sings, “I know we’ll be happy. One day, I know we’ll be together. But now I’m left dreaming, my whole body screaming….”
Her voice is truly beautiful. She’s so talented.
My woman trails off when she spots me across the park.
She’s standing on the other side of the pond, her hands clasped in front of her. My vision wavers, and I almost fall to the side, my heart pounding like a giant’s fist smashing against my ribcage.
“Ryland?” she calls, her voice indecisive, as though she doesn’t believe it’s me.
I stare for a moment longer, drinking in the sight of her in her blue jeans and her hoodie, her sleeves pulled up around her wrists, making her look adorable. Her lips are unsure, her eyebrows raised, her hair cascading gorgeously down her shoulders.
“Ryland?” she says again, as though she can’t believe it’s me.
I rush around the pond, running through the grass until I come to a stop a few inches short of her. I know I need to use caution, but I can’t, not now, not when she’s right there.
Springing forward, I sweep her into my arms. She makes an adorable gasping sound as I spin her around, clashing my lips with hers.
Rusty barks happily, running around us, as I pull her body close and kiss her firmly.
After a moment, she returns the kiss, our mouths opening, our tongues seeking each other out with deep hunger.
“Why didn’t you call me?” she whimpers, breaking the kiss off and staring up at me with sharp eyes. “I thought you hated me.”
“Call you?” I ask confused. “How the hell would I do that?”
Despite the fierceness of my tone, I can’t let her go. My hands fuse with her hips, sinking into my favorite place.