Maybe Now (Maybe #2)(21)

On my arms, my shirt, my hands, the counter. In my mouth. I look over at Sydney and she’s on the floor with laughter. Tears are in her eyes, she’s laughing so hard.

She glitter bombed me.

Wow.

I guess that means the prank war has recommenced.

I wash my mouth out and then calmly walk to the bar where the explosion just happened. I scoop a handful of glitter into my palm. Two can play this game. Her laughter hasn’t let up at all. I think she’s laughing even harder now that she sees me up close. I’m sure I look fantastic in sparkles.

I’ve read the word “squeal” before and know that it’s a form of laughter, but I have no idea what it sounds like at all. But as soon as I tip my hand over and watch the glitter fall all over her, I’m almost positive that’s what she’s doing. Squealing.

She clutches her stomach and falls onto her back. A tear falls down her cheek.

My God. I’d give anything to be able to hear her right now. I spend so much time trying to imagine what her voice and her laughter and her sighs sound like, but there isn’t enough imagination in one person to come close to what I know it probably sounds like.

She sees the look on my face and suddenly stops laughing. Her eyebrows pull together when she signs, “Are you angry?”

I smile and give my head a slight shake. “No. I just really wish I could hear you right now.”

Her expression relaxes a little. Saddens, even. She pulls in her bottom lip for a second as she stares up at me. Then she reaches her hand up and grabs mine, pulling on it. I lower myself to the floor, sliding my knee between both of her legs.

I might not be able to hear her like I wish I could, but I can smell her and taste her and love her. I run my nose over her jaw until my lips reach hers. When I brush my lips against hers, her tongue slips into my mouth, soft and inviting. I return the action, searching her mouth for remnants of laughter.

She’s an incredible communicator when it comes to her kiss. Her kiss sometimes says more to me than anything she could ever sign or text or speak. Which is why I immediately know when she’s distracted. I don’t even have to hear it. She hears it for me, and then I feel her reaction and I just know. I pull back and look down at her, just as her attention moves to Warren and Bridgette’s bathroom door. I look up, and Bridgette is walking out of the bathroom. She pauses and looks at us, lying on the living room floor together, covered in glitter.

And then she does the unthinkable.

Bridgette smiles.

Then she steps over us and walks away. When she leaves the apartment, I look down at Sydney, wondering if she’s just as shocked as I am by that exchange. Her eyes are wide as she looks back at me. She starts laughing again. I quickly press my ear to her chest, wanting to feel it, but her laughter fades too quickly. I bring my hand up to her waist and start tickling her. I feel her start laughing again, so I keep tickling her because it’s the closest I can get to hearing that laugh.

Her phone is next to me on the floor, so when it lights up, I naturally glance at it. I stop tickling her when I see the name and the message that appears on the screen.



Hunter: Thank you, Syd. You’re the best.



She hasn’t noticed her phone. She’s still laughing and trying to squirm away from me, so I sit back on my knees and pick up her phone. I hand it to her as I’m standing up to walk away. I try to bite down my anger as I grab a rag and begin wiping the glitter off the counter. I glance at her to see her reaction, but she’s sitting cross-legged now, responding to that fucker’s text.

Why is she talking to him?

Why does it seem like they’re somehow miraculously on good terms?

Thank you, Syd? Why is he calling her Syd, like he has any right to be that casual with her after what he did to her? And why is she sitting so casually like this is okay? I grab my phone.



Ridge: Let me know when you’re finished chatting with your ex. I’ll be in the shower.



I don’t look at her as I head to my bedroom and then my bathroom. I pull open the shower curtain and turn on the water, and then take my shirt off. I swear, I just want to make loud noises. It’s not very often I feel the need to be loud, but in situations like this, I know it probably feels good to be able to groan so that I can hear my frustrations leaving my body. Instead, I toss my shirt at the wall and unbutton my jeans with nowhere for my noise to go.

When the bathroom door opens, I regret not locking it because I really need a minute. Or two or three. I glance at Sydney, and she leans against the doorframe and raises an eyebrow.

“Seriously?”

I stare at her expectantly. What does she want me to say? Does she expect me to be okay with this? Does she expect me to smile and ask her how Hunter is doing?

Sydney hands me her phone and scrolls up on her texts to Hunter so I can read them. I have no desire to read them, but she uses both of her hands to force mine around her phone, and then she motions for me to read them. I look down at the string of messages.



Hunter: I know you don’t want to speak to me. I don’t blame you for driving away the other night. And believe me, I would leave you alone, but I gave you all my financial forms to give to your dad to look over during our company’s merger last year. It’s almost April and I need them for taxes. I called his office and they said they sent them back with you a few months ago.