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CHAPTER EIGHT

MARLEE

“ S omeplace tropical probably,” Ledger answers me when I ask where he would want to travel to if he could go anywhere.

“I wouldn’t mind a private island somewhere so I can just lay on the beach with no responsibilities and no fans I have to talk to.

Somewhere where nobody knows what hockey even is. ”

“Sunbathing without all the tourists where drinks are handed to you whenever you ask for them? Yes please.” I raise my hand. “You’ve never done it?”

“Nope,” he says with a shake of his head.

“Why not?”

He swallows a bite of his alfredo before answering and I notice he doesn’t make eye contact when he tells me, “I guess I just haven’t had the right person to go with is all.

Not that I would mind traveling by myself but I feel like if I’m going to have a private island and all the luxury to go with it, I would rather enjoy it with someone, you know? ”

A private island with Ledger Dayne…

“Sounds like Heaven.”

“It really does,” he agrees. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. California is nice and all but?—”

“Hollywood, tourists on every corner, not to mention earthquakes, fire season, mud slides, heat…” I tick off some of the more unattractive qualities of California living.

“Right,” Ledger says with an amused nod. “What about you? Where would you want to go?”

“That’s easy. I want to go to Amsterdam.”

“Amsterdam? Really? Out of all the places in the world?” He swallows a bite of his alfredo.

“Yep.” I nod, dabbing the corners of my mouth with my napkin.

“That’s where I’d love to travel to most. I hear their tulip festival is amazing and I’ve loved tulips for as long as I can remember.

” A smile traces across my lips as I think back to the small house I grew up in.

“My mom used to have tulips in her front flower garden that would bloom every spring and I always thought they were the prettiest things.”

“Were they your mom’s favorite too?” Ledger asks. His hazel eyes focused on mine, I notice they’re a brighter green color in the natural light shining through the windows.

“Honestly I don’t even know. She was just good at making sure the flowers in the front of her house looked nice.

She would always say, ‘Just because it’s a hot mess on the inside, doesn’t mean I need to show everybody on the outside.

’” I tilt my head, smiling. “Hmm. I guess now that I’m older I finally understand what she really meant by that. ”

“I think I can relate to that way of thinking very much,” Ledger says, nodding. “I think you just described my whole childhood.”

“Really?”

“Yep.” I watch as he takes another bite.

His square jaw clenching as he chews. “Moving around from foster family to foster family was hell,” he explains.

“Most of them didn’t give a shit who I was.

They just wanted the paycheck so they could buy more cigarettes or alcohol or they already had a bunch of kids to feed so the extra paycheck helped them fill their own stomachs.

But damn if they weren’t the sweetest people anytime Family Services came around. ”

“Were they mean to you? Your foster families?”

“Some were, yeah. I was bullied by older foster brothers and sisters. One family had me sleeping in a closet. Literally. A closet in their son’s room.”

My heart shatters hearing Ledger recall part of his childhood. “Oh, Ledger, I’m so sorry.”

He shrugs. “Maybe it wasn’t that long timewise, but it felt like an eternity.

Year after year I would spend hour after hour up in my head telling myself I just needed to keep going.

That one day I would find someone to love me.

I tried for a while to look like I was keeping everything together.

To be the good boy, you know?” He shakes his head.

“But a kid can only be strong for so long.”

“Yeah. I hear that. Sometimes I don’t know how I made it to fourteen.

I don’t know how I was strong enough to tell my mom enough is enough and she needed to stop the pattern of men she was hanging out with.

I was tired of paddling my feet so quickly under the water while trying to look like the calm swan gliding across the lake. ”

“Yep. But you did it.” Ledger’s lips form a proud smile. “You fought for you. And for your mom.”

“And you did as well,” I tell him. “The family you have now? You mentioned before that they’ve been your family since…when did you say?”

“Eighth grade. I was thirteen.” His smile grows.

“It was the best year of my life when Nick and Rebecca took me in. They had two kids already. They were both a couple years older than me and somehow it just clicked. I was moved to a new school district and after a few weeks, I finally felt like I didn’t have to be afraid anymore.

I didn’t have to choose violence. I didn’t have to fight anyone for anything.

The Daynes gave me everything I could have ever needed. And then they gave me hockey.”

“The Daynes? So, you took their last name?”

He nods. “Mhmm. Before I turned eighteen, they asked if they could adopt me and I broke down and cried. It was the first time in my life, as I had known it, that I felt like I had a real family. So, they gave me their name and now I wear it proudly.”

“I’m so happy for you, Ledger. Sounds like you got everything you ever wanted.”

He lifts his eyes to mine with a look I can’t quite read and then takes a sip of his wine. I’m about to ask what he’s thinking when he nods and quietly answers, “Yeah,” but his response feels unfinished. Like there’s something he isn’t saying.

“Thank you so much for the comfy clothes, Ledge. You really didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”

“It’s no trouble at all.” Ledger takes a seat next to me on his couch after disposing of our dinner containers.

He lifts my legs and settles them across his own lap.

“I knew the sweatpants would be big on you, but you know how to rock the rolled oversized look,” he says, grabbing one of my feet and rubbing it between his strong hands. “You look cute.”

“Thank you. Is this what you do for all your girlfriends? Give them your clothes and rub their feet?” I ask, quickly regretting the question. Shaking my head, I squeeze my eyes closed and say, “On second thought, don’t answer that. It’s none of my business.”

Why did I even open my mouth in the first place?

How forward can I be?

“I’d have to actually have a steady girlfriend to give my clothes to, so I guess that’s a no. You’re the first.” He smiles, patting my leg. “Congratulations.”

“I wondered why pulling on your pants felt a little extra special,” I respond with a wink.

“Sorry, I should’ve asked about the foot rub,” he says softly. “I just assumed cramps and feeling lousy deserved at least this much. Is this okay?”

“Are you kidding?” I smile with arched brows. “It feels amazing. I’ll give you all night to stop.”

He gestures to the television in front of us with the tip of his chin. “So, what are we watching? Are you a Notebook kind of girl or do you prefer something more like The Princess Bride ?” His eyes narrow. “Or maybe you’re more into romcoms like The Proposal .”

“Oooh, I do love The Proposal ,” I tell him with a little sparkle in my eye.

“Let me guess,” he responds. “You’re a diehard Ryan Reynolds fan?”

“What?” I shake my head. “No. But I am a huge Betty White fan and she is the true star of that movie.”

The smile that grows across Ledger’s face makes my chest warm.

This whole evening with him has been beyond anything I ever expected.

He indeed purchased one of every candy bar in the drug store, having dumped them out on his coffee table for all our snacking needs.

He brought me here to his place so I could try to get my mind off the fact that I’m not pregnant, he bought me dinner from the best Italian restaurant in town, gave me his clothes to change into so we can relax and watch whatever silly rom com my heart desires. And now he’s rubbing my feet?

I don’t know where he learned to take care of others so well, but he makes me want to stay curled up next to him for as long as he’ll have me. When Ledger’s around I feel safe. With Ledger around life feels a little less stressful.

And I’m a little less alone.

“ The Proposal it is.”

“No, no, no,” Ledger says, trying not to laugh at me. “You have to do it and ask for your loins to be abundantly fertile just like Betty says.” He hops up from where we were comfortably seated and holds out his arms, performing his best Betty White impression. “Come, dance with me, curious one.”

Sucking my lips inward to keep from laughing, I reluctantly take his outstretched hand and stand with Ledger in front of his ridiculously large television.

His hands take my waist and he playfully bounces my body up and down.

“Relax your body and feel the rhythm of the drum,” he says, beaming.

“Use your vowels. EEEEE-OOOO-EEEE-OOO. Just like Betty says, Mar. Come on. Put your fertility needs out there to the universe.”

Bouncing up and down, I flail my arms just like Sandra Bullock does around the campfire and chant whatever words come to my mind. “To the window, to the window. To the wall, to the wall. I need your great big balls.”

Ledger laughs. “That’s right, girl. Let’s hear it,” he says. “Tell me about my balls.”

I continue on my own, swinging my arms and bouncing to the rhythm. “To the window, to the window. To the wall. To the wall. My donor makes house calls.”

“That’s right!”

“His balls, I’ll drain ’em all.”

“Whaaat?”

“Just jizz it down my hall.”

“That’s hot!”

“Please make me want to crawl.”

“Fuck yeah!”