Maybe Now (Maybe #2)(3)

I reach down and grab his T-shirt, then pull it over my head. I make a detour to the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face. I debate fixing my hair before I walk into the living room, but Ridge has seen me in worse conditions than the present one. We used to be roommates. He’s seen me in way worse conditions.

When I open the door to the living room, he’s there, seated at the table with a notebook and my laptop. I lean against the doorframe and watch him for a while. I’m not sure how he feels about it, but I love that I can watch him unabashedly without him hearing me enter the room.

He pulls a frustrated hand through his hair at one point, and I can tell by the stiffness of his shoulders that he’s stressed. Work stuff, I assume.

He eventually catches sight of me, and that seeing me in the doorway seems to ease his stress completely erases all my nervous energy. He stares for a moment and then drops his pen on the notepad. He smiles and scoots his chair back to stand, then makes his way across the living room. When he reaches me, he grabs me and pulls me against him, pressing his lips against the side of my head.

“Good morning,” he says, pulling back.

I will never grow tired of hearing him speak. I smile at him and sign, “Good morning.”

He looks at my hands and then back at me. “That is so damn sexy.”

I grin. “You speaking is so damn sexy.”

He kisses me, then pulls away and heads to the table. He grabs his phone and texts me.



Ridge: I have a ton of work to catch up on today and I really need my own laptop. I’m going to head back to my apartment so you can get ready for work. Want me to come over tonight?



Sydney: I drive by your place on my way home from work. I’ll just stop by on my way home.



Ridge nods and picks up the notebook he was writing in. He closes my laptop and walks back to me. He wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me against him, pressing his mouth to mine. I kiss him back and we don’t stop, even when I hear him toss the notebook on the bar. He lifts me up with both arms, and a few seconds later, we’re across the living room and he’s lowering me onto the couch, and then he’s on top of me and I’m pretty sure I’m going to get fired this week. There’s no way I can tell him I’m already late for work when I’d rather be fired than have to stop kissing him.

I’m being dramatic. I don’t want to get fired. But I’ve waited so long for this and don’t want him to leave. I start counting to ten, promising myself that I’ll stop kissing him and get ready for work when I reach ten. But I make it all the way to twenty-five before I finally press against his chest.

He pulls back, smiling down at me. “I know,” he says. “Work.”

I nod and do my best to sign what I’m saying. I know I’m not getting it all right, but I spell out the words I don’t know yet. “You should have chosen this coming weekend to sweep me off my feet rather than a work night.”

Ridge smiles. “I couldn’t wait that long.” He kisses my neck and then starts to roll off me so I can get up, but he pauses and stares at me appreciatively for a moment.

“Syd,” he says. “Do you…feel…” He pauses, then pulls out his cell phone. We still have a huge communication barrier in that he doesn’t feel completely comfortable speaking full conversations out loud yet, and I don’t know enough sign language to hold a full conversation at a decent pace. I’m sure until we both get better, texting will remain our primary form of communication. I watch him text for a moment, and then my phone pings.



Ridge: How do you feel now that we’re finally together?

Sydney: Incredible. How do you feel?

Ridge: Incredible. And…free? Is that the word I’m looking for?



I’m still reading and rereading his text when he immediately begins typing out another one. He’s shaking his head, like he doesn’t want me to take his previous text the wrong way.



Ridge: I don’t mean free in the sense that we weren’t free before we reunited last night. Or that I felt tied down when I was with Maggie. It’s just…



He pauses for a moment, but I respond to him before he replies because I’m pretty sure I know what he’s trying to say.



Sydney: You’ve been living a life for others since you were a kid. And choosing to be with me was kind of a selfish choice. You never do things for yourself. Sometimes putting yourself first can feel freeing.



He reads my text, and as soon as his eyes flick to mine, I can see we’re on the same page.



Ridge: Exactly. Being with you is the first decision I’ve made simply because I wanted it for myself. I don’t know, I guess I feel like I shouldn’t feel this good about it. But I do. This feels good.



Even though he’s saying all of this like he’s relieved he finally made a selfish choice, there’s still a wrinkle between his furrowed brows like his feelings are also accompanied by guilt. I reach my hand up and smooth it out, then cup his face. “Don’t feel guilty. Everyone wants you to be happy, Ridge. Especially Maggie.”

He nods a little, then kisses the inside of my palm. “I love you.”

He said those words numerous times last night, but hearing them again this morning still feels like he’s saying them for the first time. I smile and pull my hand from his so I can sign, “I love you, too.”