Maybe Someday (16 page)

Ridge finishes reading my message, then calmly lies back on the bed. He brings his palms to his forehead and inhales a deep breath. We both remain still as we think about the situation. After several quiet minutes, he sits back up.

Ridge: I don’t even know what to say right now other than I’m sorry. You’re right. Even though I thought you knew about Maggie, I can absolutely see what you’re saying. But I also need you to know that I would never do something like that to her. Granted, what happened between us last night is not something I would ever want Maggie to see, but that’s mostly because Maggie doesn’t understand the process of writing music. It’s a very intimate thing, and because I can’t hear, I do have to use my hands or my ears to understand things that come naturally to others. That’s all it was. I wasn’t trying to cause anything to happen between us. I was just curious. I was intrigued. And I was wrong.

Me: I understand. I never thought for a second that your intentions weren’t genuine when you asked me to sing for you. Everything just happened so fast earlier, and I was still trying to recover from the fact that I woke up in your bed and the lights were flickering. Then you go and flash the word “girlfriend” in my face. It’s a lot to process. And I believe you when you say you thought I knew about her.

Ridge: Thank you.

Me: Just promise me one thing. Promise me you will never be a Hunter, and I will never, ever be a Tori.

Ridge: I promise. And that’s impossible, because we’re so much more talented than they are.

He glances up and smiles his smiley smile at me, which makes me automatically smile in return.

Me: Now, get out of here. I’m going back to sleep, because someone spent the whole night drooling on my boobs and snoring way too loud.

Ridge laughs, but before he leaves, he messages me one last time.

Ridge: I’m excited for you to meet her. I really think you’ll like her.

He closes his laptop, stands, and walks back to his room.

I close my laptop and pull the covers over my head.

I hate that my heart is wishing so bad that he didn’t have a girlfriend.

• • •

“No, she already moved in,” Bridgette says. Her cell phone is propped up on her shoulder, and from the sound of it, she just broke the news to her sister that I’ve taken the empty bedroom. Bridgette completely ignores that I’m even in the same room with her and continues talking about me.

I know the fact that I haven’t clarified that I’m not deaf is a little mean, but who is she to assume I can’t read lips?

“I don’t know; she’s a friend of Ridge’s. I should have ignored him when he asked if I would go—in the
rain
, mind you—and bring her up to the apartment. Apparently, her boyfriend dumped her, and she had nowhere else to go.”

She pulls a seat out at the bar and sits with her back facing me. She laughs at something the person on the other end of the line says. “Tell me about it. He seems to enjoy taking in strays, doesn’t he?”

I grip the remote in my hand and hold it tightly in an attempt to keep from hurling it at the back of her head.

“I told you not to ask about Warren,” she says with a sigh. “You know he irritates the hell out of me, but I just . . .
dammit
, I just can’t stay away.”

Wait. Did I just hear that correctly? Might Bridgette have . . .
feelings
?

She’s lucky I like Warren, or the remote would be greeting her pretty little head right now. She’s also lucky someone is knocking at the door loudly enough to distract me from hurting her.

Bridgette stands up and turns to face me, pointing at the front door. “SOMEONE’S . . . AT . . . THE . . . DOOR!” Rather than answer it, she walks to her bedroom and closes her door.

So hospitable, that one.

I stand and make my way to the front door, knowing it’s more than likely Maggie. I place my hand on the doorknob and inhale a steady breath.

Here we go.

I open the door, and standing in front of me is one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever laid eyes on. Her hair is straight and jet-black, and it falls around two naturally tanned shoulders. Her face is smiling. Her whole, entire face is beaming. She’s nothing but a face full of beautiful white teeth, and they’re smiling at me, and it’s making me smile back, even though I really don’t want to.

I was really hoping she was ugly. I don’t know why.

“Sydney?” she says. It’s just one word, but I can tell by her voice that she’s deaf, like Ridge. But, unlike Ridge, she speaks. And she enunciates really well.

“You must be the girlfriend!” I say with feigned excitement.
Is
it feigned? Maybe not. Her entire demeanor is making me feel sunny and happy, and maybe I am a tiny bit excited to meet her?

Weird.

She steps forward and gives me a hug. I close the door behind us, and she slips off her shoes and heads to the refrigerator.

“Ridge has told me a lot about you,” she says as she pops open a soda, then walks to the cabinet for a glass. “I think it’s great that you’re helping him through his writer’s block. Poor guy has been stressing for months now.” She fills her cup with ice and soda. “So how are you fitting in? I see you’ve survived Bridgette. And Warren has to be a pain in the ass.” She looks at me expectantly, but I’m still loving the fact that she’s so . . . Pleasant? Likable? Cheerful?

I smile back at her and lean against the counter. I’m trying to figure out exactly how to respond to her. She’s speaking to me as if she can hear me, so I reply the same way.

“I like it,” I say. “I’ve never lived with this many people before, so it’s taking some getting used to.”

She smiles and tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear.

Ugh. Even her ears are pretty.

“Good,” she says. “Ridge told me about your shitty birthday last weekend and how he took you out for cake, but it didn’t make up for you never having the chance to celebrate.”

I have to be honest. It bothers me that he told her he took me out for cake. It bothers me, because maybe he’s right and he
does tell her everything. And it also bothers me because he seems to tell me nothing. Not that I’ve earned that right from him.

God, I hate feelings. Or I hate my conscience. The two are constantly at war, and I’m not sure which one I’d rather turn off.

“So,” she says, “we’re going out tonight to celebrate.”

I pause. “We?”

She nods. “Yeah. Me, you, Ridge, Warren, if he’s not busy. We can invite Bridgette, but that’s laughable.” She walks past me toward Ridge’s bedroom, then turns to face me again. “Can you be ready in an hour?”

“Um.” I shrug. “Okay.”

She opens Ridge’s bedroom door and slips inside. I stand frozen, listening. Why am I listening?

I hear Maggie giggling behind the closed door, and it makes me wince.

Oh,
yay.
This should be
fun.

Ridge

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay in tonight?”

Maggie shakes her head. “That poor girl needs to have some fun, with the week she’s had. And I’ve been so overwhelmed with my internship and the T word. I need a night out.” She leans forward and kisses me on the chin. “Do you want to get a cab so you can drink, or do you want to drive?”

She knows I won’t drink around her. I don’t know why she always tries her reverse psychology on me. “Nice try,” I tell her. “I’ll drive.”

She laughs. “I have to change and get ready. We’re leaving in an hour.” She tries to slide off me, but I grip her waist and roll her onto her back. I know for a fact that it never takes her more than half an hour to get ready. That leaves a good thirty minutes.

“Allow me to help you out of your clothes, then.” I pull her shirt off over her head, and my eyes drop to the very thin, intricately laced bra she has on. I grin. “Is this new?”

She nods and smiles her sexy smile. “I bought it for you. Front clasp, just how you like it.”

I pinch the clasp and undo it. “Thank you. I can’t wait to try it on.”

She laughs and slaps my arm. I take off her bra, then lower myself on top of her and drop my mouth to hers.

I spend the next half hour reminding myself how much I’ve missed her. I remind myself how much I love her. I remind myself how good it feels when we’re together. I keep reminding myself over and over, because for the past week, it felt as if I was starting to forget.

• • •

Me: Be ready in thirty minutes. We’re going out.

Warren: I don’t want to go, have an early shift tomorrow.

No. He has to go. I can’t go out with Maggie and Sydney by myself.

Me: No, you’re going. Be ready in thirty minutes.

Warren: No, I’m not. Have fun.

Me: You’re going. 30.

Warren: Not going.

Me: Going.

Warren: Not.

Me: Yes.

Warren: No.

Me: Please? You owe me.

Warren: What the hell do I owe you for?

Me: Let’s see, about a year’s worth of rent, for one.

Warren: Low blow, man. Fine.

Thank God. I don’t know what Sydney gets like when she drinks, but if she’s a lightweight like Maggie is, I don’t think I can handle the two of them on my own.

I walk to the kitchen, and Maggie is at the sink, pulling out the bottle of Pine-Sol. She holds it up to ask if I want any, and I shake my head.

“Figured I’d save money if I downed a couple of shots here first. You think Sydney wants any?”

I shrug but pull out my phone to ask her.

Me: You want a shot before we go?

Sydney: No, thank you. Not sure I feel like drinking tonight, but you go right ahead.

“She doesn’t want any,” I sign to Maggie. Warren walks out of his bedroom and sees Maggie pouring a shot from the Pine-Sol container.

Shit. There goes the hiding spot.

He doesn’t even blink when he sees her filling her shot glass. “Make it two,” he says to her. “If Ridge is forcing me to go out tonight, I’m getting so wasted he’ll regret it.”

I cock my head. “How long have you known that wasn’t cleaning solution?”

He shrugs. “You’re deaf, Ridge. You would be surprised how many times I’m behind you and you don’t even know it.” He picks up the shot Maggie poured, and they both turn their attention to something behind me. Their shocked expressions force me to turn around and see what they’re looking at.

Oh, wow.

I shouldn’t have turned around.

Sydney is walking out of her bedroom, but I’m not sure if it’s really Sydney. This girl isn’t wearing baggy shirts or walking around with her hair pulled up and a naked face. This girl is wearing a strapless black dress that’s anything but simple. Her blond hair is down and thick, and I’m thinking it probably smells as incredible as it looks. She smiles past me and says “Thanks” to either Maggie or Warren, one of whom more than likely just told her how great she looks. She’s smiling at them, but then she holds her hands up and yells, “No!” just as a mist of liquid rains down on me from behind.

I spin around, and Warren and Maggie are both coughing and spitting into the sink. Warren is sipping straight from the faucet, making a face that says he didn’t enjoy whatever just went down his throat.

“What the hell?” Maggie says, scrunching up her face and wiping her mouth.

Sydney runs into the kitchen with her hand over her mouth. She’s shaking her head, trying not to laugh, but she looks apologetic at the same time. “I’m sorry,” she keeps saying over and over.

What the hell just happened?

Warren composes himself, then turns to Sydney. He speaks and signs at the same time, which I appreciate. He can’t know how isolating it feels when you’re in a group of people who hear, but no matter what, he always signs when I’m in the room with him. “Did we actually just almost drink an entire shot of Pine-Sol?”

He’s eyeing Sydney hard. She answers him, and he signs her response for my benefit. She says, “You two weren’t supposed to drink it. It was supposed to be Ridge. And no, I didn’t actually put Pine-Sol in there, idiot. I’m not trying to kill the guy. It was apple juice and vinegar.”

She tried to prank me.

And she failed.

I start laughing and text her.