A Winter's Date (14 page)

NOAH

My ballerina is fast asleep as I purchase our plane tickets to get us back to New York City. I figured she’d want more time in London to spend with Dillen, so we leave in a month from today. Coen left this morning, and I can hear Dillen sputtering about it in her room. I understand how much distance can hurt a person. Whenever I’m too far from my girl, I feel homesick. I can’t imagine going through that again, and I’m fucking delighted that she asked to come back home with me.

It’s late and I should get to bed soon, but I have one more thing I need to do before I can shut down my laptop. I have to email my parents. Joel got in contact with them this past week, and he’s explained my situation to them. He hasn’t given them any of my information, and I’m grateful for that. I don’t think I could cope with an onslaught of questions or an outpouring of love I think I’ll get from them. I’m not even certain if that’s what I’d get. I have their information, and this entire situation is lying in the palm of my hands.

Perhaps they have an entire family without me; I wouldn’t be surprised. It’s been thirty years since they saw me last. They have missed every second of my life. Every accomplishment, every fucked-up thing I’ve done, and every lie I’ve told. But they won’t miss the first girl I bring home. I can’t imagine how they must be struggling with this information. Hell, they probably assumed I was dead.

I decided to look up the articles that were supposed to be in Mae’s white binder, the binder that tore me apart limb by limb in the cruelest and most merciless way. I find an article that is dated April 5th, 1985, two days after my birth.

Investigation to Find Missing Newborn Continues

NEW YORK—An investigation to find the kidnapped two-day old infant, Jorden Somer, is well underway. The infant was stolen mere hours after his birth. Search crews have swept the hospital, as well as hospital grounds with no success.

Yesterday’s search didn’t turn up anything substantive, but investigators say they will continue to follow up on leads today.

“We’re not leaving a single stone unturned when it comes to this newborn baby boy,” said Officer Nathan Hunt, of the NYPD. “Yesterday we were checking trashcans in the immediate neighborhood, searching any area where this infant might possibly be located. Today we are focusing on a centralized area, then working outward. This target area has been a prime spot for a certain serial kidnapper to discard any child he or she does not approve of. However, there are no signs of Jorden Somer yet.”

Police have searched every street, alley, dumpster, and crevice and are once again questioning witnesses about Jorden Somer’s disappearance. His parents, Henry and Ellery Somer, have decided to remain silent in this difficult and unfortunate time in their lives. Both parents were questioned soon after they reported their baby missing.

If you have any information, you’re asked to contact your local police department.

I manage to breathe and exit out of the scanned-in article. I will myself to open up my email and type out a brief message to the two of them before I get some shut-eye.

To:
Henry Somer, Ellery Somer

From:
Noah Ryan

Subject:
Jorden Somer

Henry and Ellery,

It has taken me weeks to compose this email, and I’m still unsure of what to say. I’d like to meet both of you soon, though. I’m sure Joel Aldrich has caught you both up on my situation, and I’m also sure you have just as many questions as I do. I believe it will be easier to speak about this in person. I’ll be back in New York in a month if you’d like to arrange a date to meet. I’d be happy to rearrange my schedule for you.

Your son,

Noah Ryan/Jorden Somer

I reluctantly hit send before closing my laptop, and I get into bed, moving Heather on top of my chest. She’s been sleeping soundly lately. I think the grieving process of our unborn child has developed into a journey that we both need to take. Everything about that situation was over my head. I still have no idea how to handle any of it, but I’m not giving up on my girl. Not now, not ever.

I don’t know where Heather is. I can hear her music playing in the background somewhere. I look around at an unfamiliar place, and I‘m confused.
Where in the hell am I?
I turn and look behind me, through a set of glass doors that peer out onto a beach. I’m in someone’s living room. The items in the room look familiar; they look like my things . . . and hers. I like this place, and it feels like home. It feels right. I call out for her, “Heather?”

I don’t hear anything except her music playing. Suddenly, something tugs at my jeans. I look down when I feel something sit on my bare foot; smiling up at me is a little girl—a beautiful, little brunette girl, sitting on my foot with her little legs and arms wrapped tightly around my leg. She tugs at my pant leg again. “Dance with me, Daddy.”

My heart slams against my chest, and I’m jolted awake, sitting straight up out of bed, gasping for air. I look down beside me and see my girl sleeping peacefully on my pillow.

I rub a hand over my eyes and down my face. Holy fuck, what the hell was that all about? My eyes are mostly adjusted to the dark, and I look back down at Heather. She’s sound asleep. Quietly, I get out of bed and walk into the bathroom, closing the door almost fully before turning on the lights. My eyes protest when the bright lights bathe the room.

Damn, that dream.

Why?

I brace my arms on the counter while I look at my tired reflection. It’s the studying. Yeah, that’s it. I need to cut back on the studying. My brain needs a fucking break. I sigh and turn on the faucet, leaning down and splashing cold water on my face, before looking back up at myself. Fuck Ryan, get your shit together. It was just a dream.

“Baby?” Heather calls out before pushing the bathroom door open. She’s still half asleep, with her hair half in and half out of her ponytail.

“Hey beautiful, let’s go back to bed.”

“Are you okay?” she asks, before inspecting me. Fuck, she’s the cutest sleepy little mess.

“I’m good.”

I walk over to her and sweep her off of her feet, carrying her back to bed, being sure to turn off the lights before I lay her down.

She curls up on top of my chest, and I wrap my arms around her little frame, keeping her secure on top of me.

“I love you, Noah.”

I kiss the top of her head and grin. “I love you too.”

When I open my eyes again, the sunlight is pouring into the room, and Heather is sitting at the end of the bed with her legs crossed. Surrounding her are golden foil packets, and I smell the unmistakable scent of latex. I sit up, confused, and try to focus. When I see what she’s done, my eyes go wide.

“Heather, what in the fuck are you doing?” I scold her.

She looks at me and replies with a flippant shrug. “Taking care of business.”

I frown when she takes the scissors to another condom, cutting it in half while making a show of it. She looks downright unrepentant.

“Why?” I almost shout in disbelief.

She glares at me. “Because I hate that you wore these with me. I don’t want it happening again, so I’m doing what I had to do.”

This stubborn woman. Fuck.

“You won’t let me win this one, will you?”

She stares at me as if the question I just asked is redundant, so I try to change the topic instead, to avoid an argument. “I bought our plane tickets last night. We leave in just under a month.”

Her eyes are unhappy, and I can’t stand it. “Oh . . . okay.”

“Is that okay?”

She tosses all of the cut-up bits of condoms into the trash, before sitting down on one of the bags she’s stuffed full. I’m not going to lie: she looks cute as fuck with the little boot on her foot.

“Sure. I assumed we would be leaving sooner rather than later.”

“We can. I don’t have a problem changing the tickets, but I thought that Dillen might need you here, seeing as Coen left yesterday.”

“But . . . I . . .”

“You what?” I move to the end of the bed and take her hand as she sits there pouting.

“I want to go home. I want to be as far away from this ballet company and Alexis as possible.”

I frown because I want the same thing. I think it’s fucked up that the company hasn’t done shit to penalize Alexis Keeley. Dillen said they actually went on with the show the night my ballerina fell. Apparently Alexis took Heather’s spot and stole the show. I can’t fucking bear the sadness in Heather’s eyes. I know she’s upset about their lack of actions too.

“Come here.” I offer her my hand, and she takes it, moving onto my lap and curling up. “We can leave at the end of the week. Would that be better?”

She nods and lays her head in the crook of my neck. “I should have never come here,” she says quietly.

“Don’t say that. You were chasing your life’s dream. I’ll have you home soon, baby, I swear.” I move my hands underneath the thin material of her shirt to glide my fingertips over her skin when my phone beeps loudly.

Her body relaxes under my touch, and she makes the sexiest sound, but my eyes move to my phone. I see the name Henry Somer on my screen before it turns black again.
Fuck.
She moves her hands over my chest and down my abs. For the first time ever, my mind is preoccupied when her hands are on me.

“Ballerina? I need to check something really fast.” I’m anxious, and I can feel my heart racing in my fingers.

She stops touching me instantly and drops her hands. “Oh, okay, I’m sorry.” Before I can do anything, she’s off my lap and hobbling to the door. “I’ll be back; I just need my medicine.” Her voice sounds dejected and it kills me.

“Heather . . .”
Fuck. What do I say to her?

She turns around to look at me.

“I emailed them last night, and he just responded.”

Her lips part in a gasp. “Why didn’t you wake me last night?”

“You were sleeping so soundly. I didn’t have the heart to wake you. Come here, I want you to read it first.”

I don’t know what’s wrong with her, but she looks like a deer in headlights. “I . . . n-no, you need to read it first,” she stutters.

“Okay. Will you at least come here?” I grab my phone off of the nightstand and look at her dazed expression. She moves slower than normal as she walks over to me; her foot must be hurting. She joins me on the bed, sitting close beside me, so I place my lips on her softly before I swipe my finger across my phone’s screen and click on the email notification.

To:
Noah Ryan

From:
Henry Somer

IN RE:
Jorden Somer

Noah,

It’s an honor to finally talk to you. Ellery is too shaken up by your email to respond, but we both like the idea of sitting down together and having a chat. We could meet you in the city, or you’re more than welcome to come to our home in Southampton. The choice is yours.

Your parents,

Henry and Ellery Somer

I look up and hand her my phone, imploring her to read the email from Henry. I don’t think I could call him Dad, or Father. Henry will have to do.

“Go ahead and read it.”

She takes the phone from me and I watch as her jade green eyes move back and forth over the screen until she’s done reading it.

“Noah, they are so excited to meet you. Are you going to go to them when we get home?”

“I’d like to, but only if you come with me. You’re going to be the first and only girl I bring home.”

She’s chewing on her lip nervously. “Noah . . . there’s something I need to . . .”

There’s a knock on the bedroom door, and she stops talking. The door starts to swing open, and I hurriedly throw the comforter over my waist. Seconds later Dillen walks in with a tear-stained face.

“Little shit?” She sniffles and walks over and lies on our bed, curling up into a ball and starts to cry.

Ah fuck. Tears. I gotta bail.

“Dillen,” Heather croons as I wrap the blanket around my waist and grab some sweats out of a bag Heather packed.

“I’ll let you two have some time alone,” I say before kissing the back of Heather’s head and walking out of the bedroom to the kitchen to get my ballerina’s medication ready.