#like ships in the night

[txemrn]

Like Ships in the Night

Prologue: We Finally Got It All Right

Welcome to my new anthology series Like Ships in the Night! I am so fortunate to have some amazing readers that enjoy this sweet pairing, and have expressed interest in seeing how fate tried bringing them back together during their 15 years apart. And you know what? I want to see that, too! So... here it is, and I hope you enjoy this adventure as much as I enjoyed dreaming about it and creating it! Each story can be read as a one-shot (unless noted), and--I'm so excited about this part--you are going to see some of canon woven into this. And in true Emily-fashion, it's not going to follow a specific time-line, but you will be able to follow along.

For those of you who are new to Tatum Erikson: this is the infamous "Hopkins Girl"... and in my AU, she and Ethan find their way back to each other.

🔞This collection of stories is intended for mature audiences only. By continuing, you agree that you are 18 years of age or older. TW for chapters will be included with each part. 🔞

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!OC (Tatum Erikson-Ramsey)

Series Music Inspo: "Ships in the Night" by Mat Kearney

Chapter Music Inspo: "I Choose You" by Sara Bareilles

Chapter Summary: On the night of their wedding, Tatum begins to reflect about her relationship with Ethan... and about all of the missed opportunities that they had with one another.

Word Count: ~3400

Warnings: NSFW/smut 🍋; language

A/N: Some of these characters/plots belong to our friends at Pixelberry. Huge thank you to my girl @charlotteg234 for helping me choreograph my smut, and to my girl @ao719 for looking over said smut! lol Love you both! Not truly beta'd; please excuse my errors.

~🖤~

Would you call me crazy if I told you I believe in cheesy romance stories? You know the type: the kind where the rich CEO’s car breaks down in a small town, where he meets the shy, yet beautiful local pastry chef with a failing bakery? He inevitably screws things up, but he proves his love by performing a grand gesture–in this case, buying out her bakery to give it back to her. Or how about the age-old story where a woman meets a stranger in a bar, spends a hot night of passion with him, only to find out in the morning that he is her new boss?  Or he’s the son of her boss? Or he’s the crown prince of some made-up country in the Mediterranean? 

Now, before you roll your eyes at me, I know what you’re thinking. Stuff like that doesn’t actually happen in real life. Men don’t go out of their way to make fools of themselves for love. Love has its limits, and the sensation of being ‘swept off your feet’ is nothing more than a trigger of chemicals in your body, supported by the greeting card companies and flower shops.  And let me tell you: I totally agree with you.

Until it happened to me.

When I was twenty-three, I fell in love with the most intelligent, fearless, most handsome man I had ever met in my life. He was strong, yet sensitive; he was quiet, but hilarious.  He was such a colossal pain in my ass. And I absolutely loved him for it. For over three years, our relationship was thrilling, breath-taking, all-consuming and wild. It was the kind of love that inspires love songs and poetry, a love that makes you believe in soulmates and wishing on stars and happily ever afters.  We had no idea what the hell we were doing, which made it so incredibly perfect. He was so incredibly perfect.

Then, I single-handedly fucked it up. Everything that was good in my life, I threw it all away in a single moment. And that incredibly perfect man… I broke him. And the worst part? I changed him. Because of me, he learned to be cold and hard; he learned to be closed off, to protect himself from getting hurt ever again. He lost that spontaneous bright light in his eyes. And love?  He stopped believing in it.   

But, I’ll let you in on a little secret: the story of Ethan Ramsey and Tatum Erikson doesn’t stop there.  It should’ve. My God, it should’ve, but fate had a different ending for us.

“Tate?”

His voice. It still rings like a melody to me, especially with my name dancing on his lips. Well, that and judging from his mumble, his keys must be in his mouth.  His hands are full with a late dinner, and no doubt, Jenner is making it nearly impossible for him to sneak through the door with his excitement.

I give the navy velvet sky one more glance as I turn to walk back inside from our balcony. Pulling the curtains shut, I watch Ethan set the table before lighting a few tapered candles between our plates. He then promptly unpacks the brown paper bags of our greasy, late-night fast food dinner.

Recinching the white satin belt of my short, lace-trimmed robe startles him into a double-take.  “There you are,” he beams brightly at me; he offers a guilty smile as he claps his hands. “Nothing was open at 1:30 in the morning except…” he sighs, “the golden arches.”

Raising a playful eyebrow, I saunter closer to him, closing the gap between us. As I wrap my arms around his thick, swole musculature, his taut, strong arms envelop my own body. He pulls me closer, pressing me lovingly into the flat planes of his chest.

“Mmmm…" I nuzzle into him, "it’s perfect. My husband did good,” I steal a fry.

He smirks before kissing my forehead. He looks at his watch. “It’s been–” he clicks his tongue, “--nine hours? I really hope I haven’t messed this marriage-thing up too badly just yet. Although, I’m not so sure that feeding my wife McDonald’s on her wedding night is being a good husband.”

"I think you're doing a damn good job on keeping her satiated, Mr. Ramsey," I giggle under my breath. 

The man truly is a god. His glorious tongue and nimble fingers permeated secret parts of me during our quaint wedding reception earlier, making us swiftly take our exit during the main course.  Even now after spending four breathless hours making love, I look up into those possessive crystal eyes, and my arousal instantly awakens. God, I need him.

Ethan tilts his head lower towards me, his breath warm on the shell of my ear. “Every touch from you, Mrs. Ramsey, leaves my begging… for … more," he nips at my earlobe, punctuating his words.  The sudden sting ignites a fury of goosebumps across my skin.

And suddenly, I can't let go of him. Feeling the heat of his body against my own intoxicates me like a fine vintage wine. This man, this honorable and selfless man: he is my beloved, my husband, my forever. My soul literally craves just to be in his presence; my being thirsts to be held steadfast in the oasis of his heart. I want to dive deep and succumb to his currents; the height of his love I will never, ever be able to fathom. 

And to think: he chose me. Again.

The silky fabric of my robe slips off my shoulder. Ethan's large hand brushes across my exposed freckled skin, admiring my decollete as if he was experiencing it for the first time. His breath shutters against my chest, his desire hardening against my belly. His mouth presses to my exposed skin as he marks me as his own. The pull from his pout is heavenly; he burrows his face into my neck, his arms hugging me tightly.

I tenderly rake my fingers through his espresso waves, massaging the back of his neck.

"My wife…" he silently breathes against me like a fervent prayer. His hands find the loose knot of my belt, pulling the tie undone with his thumb. The material flounces open, his fingers roaming across my bare curves.

His lips find mine, a slow fire kindling between them. His tongue flirts inside my mouth, swirling languidly around the tip of mine. 

My knees buckle with the abrupt throbbing between my legs, but his arms brace me. We both warmly snicker before I peer up at the gorgeous, chiseled lines of his face. His dark stare is so attentive, so captivated with me; I can feel my heart pirouette in my chest. 

I want him–God, I fucking need him in the most feral of ways. Now. I am his lamb, his sacrifice. I need him to strip me, ravage me, break me, consume me. 

"I thought you were hungry," he growls, tracing my jaw with the bridge of his nose. His eyelashes flutter against my skin; even my toes curl to the command of their gentle tickle. 

My breath quickens, the rise and fall of my chest pressing into his firm body. "I thought you were," my voice softly rattles, painfully aware of his tightly constricted appetite in his sweatpants.

He rolls his tongue across his bottom lip as he tucks a finger under the material resting on my other shoulder. With a careful flick,  the satin glides down my arm, drifting into a delicate cascade until it ripples on the floor around my ankles.

"I am," he cups my cheek, painting his thumb across my own pout. He then drags his knuckles down my exposed body: down my chin and neck, between my breasts and around my navel. He takes a knee, his mouth replacing his hand. He trails sweet kisses down my abdomen before tenderly caressing my sex. I hum as he gazes back up at me, his eyes dark with want. "I am very–" I gasp as he pushes his fingers into my core, "--very hungry." Pulling back out, he lifts his hand to his mouth. He moans in pleasure, his tongue eagerly lapping up my sweet desire.

As he sensually sucks on the tips of his fingers, I greedily steal his hand, bringing it back to my own lips. With a mischievous grin on my face, I kiss his palm before dragging it down to my pert breast. I guide his hand into massaging me slowly, his secure grip finding and teasing my nipples. Losing myself in the vast wilderness of his longing stare, he renders me speechless; the anticipation leaves me breathless. God, just put your mouth on me already...

I drag my teeth across my lips, watching my new husband shiver, unraveling on his knees. Combing my nails behind his ear, he shifts his gaze back to me, and I whisper. 

“Take me.”

Hastily finding the bottom curve of my ass, he takes hold of me, pulling me closer to himself. His hands wander smoothly up my thighs, discovering my wet slit. He tenderly traces my folds, and a sudden ache for more courses through my legs 

His finger grazes over my plumping clit, once… then twice before he circles around again… and then back the other direction. My foot coyly turns inward as my knee curls to shield my throbbing apex from his welcoming intrusion.

“Uh-uh,” he scolds me. He slips my leg out from under me, instantly finding its way over his broad shoulder. I brace myself on the back of a chair as he strums my swollen button. 

My knees quiver with reckless electricity; my body trembles with raw nerves.  My lower belly warms with excitement, euphoria building deep within me. I begin to rub against his hand.

“Ethan,” I gasp, “please baby–”

He stops. As he flicks his eyes to me with that irresistible smirk, he must’ve seen the look of betrayal written all over my face.

“Ethan?”

But before I can get my words out, he scoops me up bridal-style, hurrying me into our bedroom.  He throws me like a ragdoll onto the plush bed before ripping off his undershirt.  I sit up on my knees, my fingers reaching for his waistband. As I lunge closer to take what I want, he grabs my wrists. He crawls on top of me pinning me down, my hands helplessly over my head. 

He kisses into my whimpers, his teeth nipping at my swollen lips. “Such an eager girl,” he snickers, biting my lip again until he gently licks into my mouth. 

Ethan traces his tongue down my body, circling around my nipple before pulling it into his mouth.  Fuck, it hurts so good. One of my hands has traveled to the back of his head, encouraging his rapacious mouth into my sensitive skin. But, he possessively steals my hand from his neck, restraining it useless above my head.

“Stay,” the corner of his mouth turns up as he pants, “you stay right here until you finish for me." He playfully tugs on my other nipple with his teeth before stealing another glimpse of me. "And you will finish on me.” 

His demanding claim on me as well as his overpowering strength sends a chilling ache through my body. My need for him grows fervent, restless, completely starved.  I am his hostage, and only he holds the key to my release, to my pleasure. He is my undoing.

He slips down my body, spreading my legs apart for him. I quake as he spreads apart my lips, and all at once, his tongue drinks me deeply. My back arches against the mattress, as he swirls around my most sensitive area.

My breath becomes ragged as my hips thrust off of the bed. Hoarse mewls escape my mouth as my head thrashes back and forth across the pillow.

Without warning, he glides two thick fingers into my channel, stealing the very breath from my lungs.  Finding the perfect spot inside, he strokes deeply, smoothly, my toes curling with the change of sensation.  

I am overwhelmed; each stroke builds on the last, the intensity obliterating my mind. Is this pleasure? Is this pain? I can’t–I can’t take anymore.

That is until Ethan takes his other hand, firmly pressing it down on my lower belly. The electricity of my desire erupts into a million stars, dancing in my own galaxy. 

And then he slides in another finger.

My mouth drops open into earth-shattering silence as I pump my hips uncontrollably into his hand. My body trembles, hurdling me towards an orgasm. It’s terrifying, and thrilling, and absolutely emotional. I can barely breathe anymore, my inhales catching in my chest as my body cries out. 

But suddenly, as my climax overcomes me, throwing me off the edge to complete ruin, Ethan stops. He grips my ass and swiftly, flips us both over. Finding myself on my knees, my husband’s head is between my thighs, his lips a breath away from my wet pussy.

"Ride me, baby."

He pulls my hips down, the sudden jerk causing me to grab the wooden headboard. His stubble tickles my sensitive skin as my nerves reignite with pleasure. My body melts into him, his mouth instantly finding my deep ache. He blows gently across my throbbing clit before wrapping his mouth around it, giving it a nip with his teeth.

"Ethan!"

A stun of electricity courses through my veins.  A deep burn contracts in my belly as groans of ecstasy escape my throat; my eyes prick with tears of euphoric joy as he strokes me through another orgasm.  My whimpers fill our room as I uncontrollably pulse and constrict around his tongue and fingers. My thighs quiver as I grind my quaking pussy across his hungry mouth.

My knuckles blanch to white as I grip the headboard; glistening with sweat, my body grows limp, begging for rest, begging for oxygen, begging to collapse from my husband’s predatory gleaning of my body… now his body.  

But, he holds me fast and close, his hands gripping firmly to the swells of my ass as he continues to feast on my ravaged center. He tenderly nuzzles me open, his tongue consuming every last drop of my pleasure.

He crawls out from under me, quickly climbing onto his knees to kneel behind my body. His arms snake around my abdomen as he pulls me back into his lap. And I collapse against his chest, my hands finding the tops of his before tangling our fingers together.

Relishing his touch, Ethan presses his lips into my jaw, along my neck, coming to rest on my shoulder. He tightens his hold on me as his mouth finds the shell of my ear, my body lax against his. 

And then I giggle. His soft whispers of the most lovely, the most hidden of secrets saved just for us drip like honey from his lips, his sweet words seducing me in the most intimate of ways.

Turning my head to meet his gaze, our lips brush against one another as we finally relax into each other's arms, laying down against the swirl of sheets and stacks of pillows. Finding a comfortable silence, I can feel his pulse bounding in time with mine as we share the air around us. He mindlessly traces shapes with the tips of his fingers across my hips. His ankles intertwine with mine, and somehow, something so mundane feels so possessive, so intimate. I could drown in this moment, knowing my last breath was him claiming me as his own.

"How?" I sigh, not realizing the actual word escaped from my mind.

"Hrmm?" He rasps, readjusting his hold on my body against his.

I titter in embarrassment. "This. I just can't believe… we're here…"

He nuzzles his nose against my neck. "Just you and me." He takes my hands, gently interlocking our fingers together as he brings it up to his mouth for a kiss.

A thought crosses my mind. And I sit up, leaning myself against the plethora of pillows against the headboard.  Grabbing a sheet to cover myself, I look down at my husband, a pensive grin quirking on my mouth. "Do you–" I sigh, shaking my head. "Nevermind."

Ethan sits himself up next to me, playfully knocking his shoulder into me. "Do I what?" 

"It's silly."

He smirks. "Like that's ever stopped you?"

I swat his arm before wrapping my hand around his bicep, laying my head against his shoulder. "Do you believe... in fate?"

He rolls his head towards me, giving me that look, like I just asked him the most idiotic question on the planet.

"What?" I teasingly pout. 

He raises his eyebrows. "Do you really want to know my answer?" 

No. I chuckle to myself; I know better. I have always appreciated Ethan's ability to remain level-headed. He's a realist, a believer in physical matter. Everything can or will be explained by science. For the most part, I agree with him. Afterall, I am a scientist, too. 

And maybe he's right; the rekindling of our relationship was a complete coincidence. But still… after all of the missed meetings and stolen glances from afar… after all of these years, why now?

He presses a lingering kiss to my forehead. "Tell me. What do you think?"

"Whether or not you believe in fate?"

"No," he rolls his eyes, grinning wide. His deep chuckle reverberates through his body, warming mine. He pulls me gently into his chest. "Tell me, baby," he softly croons. "Tell me what you're thinking. Tell me what's got you thinking about–" he waves his hand in the air as if he's presenting a magical word on a rainbow. "--destiny."

"Not when you say it like that," I pinch his belly.

"Okay, okay!" He flinches, snickering before cradling me closer. "I'm sorry. I'll be serious." I give Ethan a questioning glare until he holds up three fingers. "Doctor's honor."

I giggle as I mindlessly begin to play with his fingers in silence.  I finally sigh because I officially sound like a lunatic, and surely, this beautiful man is about to go get our marriage annulled. "I don't know," I breathe him in deeply, my fingertips grazing through the hair on his chest. "I feel like… now looking back on us, we had so many missed opportunities… divine interventions… I don't know," I snicker at myself because I don't just sound insane; I am insane.

That is until Ethan takes my hand, giving me a reassuring squeeze. "I'm listening."

"What if we were always meant to find each other? Like… God, I don't know." I turn around to face him leaned against the wall of pillows. "Imagine we're heading to work on the T, but we keep missing the stop… and yet, we still end up where we're supposed to go, even if we have to catch another line or hail a cab."

Ethan gives me a skeptical look. "Okay, so… you believe you and I had missed opportunities to be together–"

"I don't know if I believe it… but somehow calling those missed connections, those times that we almost crossed paths again…" I bite my bottom lip, shaking my head. "Rams, how could they just be coincidences?"

Ethan couldn't take his eyes off me; I could tell he was perplexed with what I was insinuating by the way he chewed the inside of his mouth. We fell into a quietness, my question left unanswered. 

I could feel my cheeks burn with embarrassment. Maybe I was being hyper-emotional with it being our wedding day and all the talk of love everlasting.

After spending a few moments studying my face, Ethan tenderly takes my foot, pushing back the sheet to expose it completely. He lays it on the firm planes of his abdomen as he begins to gently knead his thumbs and knuckles into my arches.

"Coincidences, hrm?" He exhales heavily. "Or fate?" He shakes his head with uncertainty as he strokes each one of my toes. "Tell me a coincidence. One of our coincidences."

Feeling myself melt into his touch, I look down at my wedding band, twirling it around my finger. Taking a deep breath, I lick my lips and begin.

"Do you remember the time…?"

~🖤~

Tags (please let me know if you'd like to be added/removed)

PERMA

@alj4890 @ao719 @charlotteg234 @issabees @kat-tia801 @kingliam2019 @mainstreetreader @mom2000aggie @neotericthemis @nikirennie87 @peonierose @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam

ALL OPH

@alyshak92 @annfg8 @bisexualdisasteracd @cariantha @coffeeheartaddict2 @lsvdw-blog @mvalentine @ofmischiefandmedicine @rookiemartin @starrystarrytrouble @youlookappropriate

~🖤~

Thank you so much for your support! Every like , comment and reblog means the world to me! 🖤

[danielflemingart]

Passing in the Night. 

16x20″

Acrylic and water on canvas.

[riddlestiltskin]

“Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing,

Only a signal shown and a distant voice in the darkness;

So on the ocean of life we pass and speak one another,

Only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence.”

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1874)

I painted this like 12 years ago and tbh I think this was my peak

[mantaphase]

star crossed lovers: mutuals who only use tumblr and discord but one prefers tumblr and one prefers discord

[starkjoy]

manifesting

[bluerosefox]

Another Sibling Danny and Jason idea!!

"Are you Jason Peter Todd?!" demanded a deep and commanding tone from the strange glowing being in front of them.

All the Bats stiffened and tensed, no doubt gearing up for a fight against the being that somehow knew Red Hood's full name.

Jason, Red Hood, decided to put on a brave front despite no doubt cursing in his head and wondering how the heck did this thing know his full freaking name.

"Whose asking." he snarled out, his hands twitching for his gun when the huge glowing knight with purple flames coming out of his helmet and cape, who was riding on a nightmare looking horse while they all had been in the cave going over tonight's patrol.

The Knight didn't seemed bothered by his response nor did he even seem to care or flinch when Batman made his own demand on 'Why was he there and who was he' or when Damian unsheathed his sword and pointed it towards him. Instead the strange glowing Knight reached to it side and pulled out... A glowing scroll? Huh. (Also he completely unnerved everyone in the room when the Knight didn't even react when Batman had tossed a Baterang when he reached for his side)

The Knight opened the scroll and spoke clearly with purpose.

"Jason Peter Todd,

You are hereby invited as a special guest of honor to the crowning of our future King of the Infinite Realms.

Daniel Phantom, once Daniel Jackson Fenton, and once Daniel Austen Todd.

Prince of the Infinite Realms, the Keeper of Balance, The Peacekeeping Halfa, the Defeater of the Tyrant King Pariah Dark, The Great One, Youngest of the Ancients, Ancient of Space, The Bridge between Life and Death.

You, the half-brother of our King, have been given the highest of honors for your past actions and will be given housing and food in the Realms and Phantom's Keep, for the week long event. Personal servants and attendants will be at your disposable and a seamstress will be on hand to tailor make your attire for the Coronation.

Signed: Clockwork. Ancient of Time. Watcher of the Infinite Timeline. Kronos. Mentor and Adviser.

PS: I shall have Fright Knight ("Me" the Knight bluntly said for a second) leave this scroll along with a personal one for you from Daniel to read over and once you make up your mind sign the bottom of the scroll.

I do hope in time you will pick the right choice Jason Todd, we of the Infinite Realms would like to reward you for your actions. After all, if you hadn't gotten young Daniel away from your father that night all those years ago, we would never had gained our Prince nor be free from our once Tyrant King.

Ah, one more thing.

The Infinite Realms will always favor you Jason."

Jason felt like he couldn't breath as Fright Knight? Rolled up the scroll, pulled a letter from his side, and held out the two items for him to take.

[batpersik-art]

how are we feeling fronnie nation

[tiredeldritchhorror]

Man, Limited Life is probably my favorite of the life series, I love them all but I would happily rewatch Limited Life any day

[0verstepping]

what matters most is how well you can walk through the war that's inside of your head i can't stop this war inside my head

[the-meme-monarch]

who up digitaling their circus *my entire house’s power goes out leaving me in complete darkness*

[littlenimart]

toe to toe with you, losing control with you

wanna know would you rip me to pieces?

[txemrn]

Like Ships in the Night

Unloving You

Welcome to my new anthology series Like Ships in the Night! Ethan and Tatum spent 15 years apart from each other, but fate tried making them reunite sooner. Each story can be read as a one-shot (unless noted). You can check out the smutty prologue here!

🔞This collection of stories is intended for mature audiences only. By continuing, you agree that you are 18 years of age or older. TW for chapters will be included with each part. 🔞

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!OC (Tatum Erikson), Tobias Carrick x f!OC (Tatum Erikson)

Series Music Inspo: "Ships in the Night" by Mat Kearney

Chapter Music Inspo: "Unloving You" by Anson Seabra

Chapter Summary: It's been 6 months since Ethan and Tatum broke up, and even though their lives are going in different directions, one thing remains the same.

Word Count: ~4700

Warnings: language, mentions of infidelity and masturbation; there is a plot reveal towards the end of this story that can be triggering to some; sensitive readers, if you are unsure, please scroll down to the end of the story to read this TW; it's in red

A/N: Some of these characters/plots belong to our friends at Pixelberry. Huge thank you to my girl @ao719 for looking over this piece! 🖤 Not truly beta'd; please excuse my errors.

~🖤~

Tatum

When does it stop? The pain, the loneliness, the tears?

The love?

When you find that person, the one that gets you, the one that understands you and completes you… that person that makes your eyes sparkle without even trying, that makes flowers smell brighter or even your favorite coffee taste better…

How do you say ‘goodbye’? 

Can your heart even let go? Does it ever let go? When do you stop seeing them in your dreams? Smelling their skin in a light breeze? Hearing their voice in every song?

I fell in love. And now, I'm begging for someone to tell me: how do you fall out?

It's been almost six months since Ethan left me.  Six months. It feels like we were just together yesterday, whispering secret promises to one another as our eyelashes and fingertips danced in flutters across our bare bodies. It was simple, yet intimate. We acted as if we would be doing it everyday for the rest of our lives. 

And yet, we fell apart for what feels like decades ago. I mean, I'm a completely different person now, some days unable to recognize myself in the mirror. Still, in so many ways, I'm very much that broken girl who lucked out and found a boy. A lovely boy. A boy who gave me his whole heart.

Six months.  I miss him. And I still love him. 

I woke up to a text from him, inviting me to meet him for lunch before my clinic appointment. I didn't want to pass up the chance of actually getting to talk. So, with a belly full of nerves, I agree to meet him at a place near Edenbrook Hospital.

It was pretty warm out today in Boston. Getting out of bed has become easier for me over the past month, so I decided to enjoy my breakfast in the company of the rays of the early-September sun. The heat breathed life back into my skin, giving me a much-needed boost of serotonin. And just like that, something felt different about today. Better different.  

For once in the past several months, life isn't overcast and gloomy.  Although I wake up missing Ethan, I don't feel my usual sense of dread and sadness. I'm not overwhelmed with the stifling sense of doom or that life would be much better if...well, nevermind. Rather hope blooms in my chest, like maybe I can–no, like maybe I will overcome this. Today was going to be a good day.

I decided to venture out and explore. I moved in just before residency in July, and living with the crazy schedule of an intern, I never had a chance to explore the new city. And since Beantown will be home for at least three years, I might as well get used to it. 

After struggling to find something to wear, I strapped on my shoes and headed out to run some errands before I met up with him. I had an important conference call this morning with my advisor at Johns Hopkins, a board representative, and the residency coordinator with Mass Kenmore.  They've been incredibly supportive of my career decisions, especially after I turned down my residency spot soon after graduation. They understood my need for an interim hiatus, and were able to grant me my request with stipulations, which included working in a research laboratory part-time. Who knows? When I finally figure out my passion, my sharpened skills in pharmaceutical research may save lives… that is if I ever feel passion again.

Looking at my watch, I scury to catch the T to the medical district to meet him for lunch in fifteen minutes. Of course, it's crowded as I grip tightly to the metal railing of the moving tram. Shit, I hope I'm not late. He's trying to reach out after everything we've been through, and… well, I don't want him to think I'm not taking things seriously. 

My anxiety betrays me as I swallow thickly. Along with the abrupt motions of the locomotive and the overbearing smells of skunked perfume, body odor and fried food, my breakfast threatens to make an appearance. I close my eyes, taking some deep breaths. Slowly inhale through my mouth, slowly exhale back out. Slowly inhale… 

A hand grazes my shoulder; my eyes startle open only to find a kind, older gentleman with a Red Sox cap smiling empathically at me. Looking me over, he recognizes my situation, and kindly offers me his seat, guiding me to it. Maybe chivalry isn't dead. 

I graciously thank him, finding solace in the empty spot before checking my watch again. Eleven minutes. I think I'm going to be just fine.

With two minutes to spare, I walk into our meeting location: a bar called Donahue's. Since I’ve beat him here, I go ahead and get situated at an empty table where he can easily see and find me. I feel weird coming to a bar during the day–even the bartender gave me an eyebrow before I ordered my water, but I've heard that it's more than a boozy-place, that the bar food here is decent. 

A bell rings out as another patron walks into the dimly lit area. Not him. He grabs a long neck before joining a group of men in scrubs. I look to my right and see more people dressed in medical attire, which I guess makes sense; the bar is situated in the middle of several major hospitals.

The door chimes again, my heart dropping in anticipation, but it's a false alarm as a cute brunette in purple scrubs bounces into the place, ordering a round of shots. I hope this is the night shift…

I catch a whiff of something delectable, my stomach growling with demands. I grab a menu and begin to thumb through it, everything looking delectable. My mouth salivates as I make a mental note of their appetizers as I peruse over to their list of desserts. 

But then, I freeze. I'm suddenly paralyzed as an eerie, familiar feeling washes over me. Haunting me. Someone is watching. I can feel their stare. 

Glancing up, I gasp, the color draining from my face as my eyes prick with the threat of tears.

It… it can't be.

What's he doing here? He can't see me here. Not like this.

----------

Ethan

"Have a good one." 

I wave goodbye to one of the newest arrivals at Johns Hopkins. So bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Filled with so much hope of making changes in the world of medicine. He was probably the top of his class, 4.2 GPA, president of his pre-med club. Complete nerd.

I recognize him. I was the same way when I first arrived. 

Before…

He and his parents moved the last piece of furniture from my Baltimore apartment this evening. I relocated to Boston back in July to start my residency in a highly regarded, highly competitive diagnostics program.  Today is finally the last day of my lease in the old place, so I came back one last time to clean up and turn in my keys. 

And also, to get rid of that piece. I should've just thrown it away, but it was new, barely even a year old. It seemed like such a waste. I had listed it last week on a private med student bulletin board. 

Free bed. Good condition. Pick up only. Within hours, it was claimed. And I was relieved.

Just get it out of here.

I lock the front door as I turn to clean the master bedroom that is now completely empty. But, truth be told, this room has been vacant for a while. I hated coming in here. Well, after.

As the vacuum cleaner whirls to life, I push and pull across the carpet, gliding effortlessly… that is until I hear a giant clunk, followed by rapid tinks and thuds under the wheel.

Damnit.

Laying down the clumsy appliance, I squat low to the ground, looking under the bristles for the culprit of the noisy clog. And there it is. A hair-tie.

Her hair-tie.

Wiggling it free, I hold it in my hands, inspecting it. I stare at the taupe-colored elastic for a few moments before chuckling under my breath. What was I expecting the damn thing to do? Take my heartache away? Erase the pain of the past six months?

It really wasn't anything special, just another piece of trash to toss. 

Just like me. 

For as long as I can remember, I had a well-erected facade that gave the impression that I was tough while keeping people away. And it worked. I'm not jaded; it's just a fact of life that I learned when I was younger: people will let you down. 

I don't need others; I don't need help. Once you show vulnerability to someone, once you expose the weakest part of your armor, they know how to hurt you. And I refuse to be weak.

But then… hell, she happened. And for a moment in time, I had someone in my corner, someone I could trust, someone who put me, all of me, before themselves. Shit, even my own mother couldn't even do that, and Lord knows, my dad tried. But Tatum? Damnit…

Tatum saw my full potential.  She saw beyond my brokenness, my shit attitude, my shortcomings. I didn't feel this intrinsic need to prove myself to anyone anymore because this amazing woman believed in me–like truly believed in my intelligence, my skills. She made me believe I was meant for greater than what I thought was possible.

We called it love. 

I really thought it was.

But I was fooling myself. She fooled me, and now I'm left with thoughts and memories of a time that should never have happened in the first place.

[6 months ago…]

"Thanks for the ride, man," Ethan taps on the hood of his colleague's car before waving goodbye.  He throws his duffle bag over his shoulder before quickly jogging through the light rain to his apartment building

His research elective group had finished early in Houston on Thursday afternoon, and the students were given an opportunity to return home.  Several students wanted to take advantage of what otherwise would have been their Spring Break, so they chose to stay and explore Space City.  

Ethan, being a creature of habit, was ready to get home and get back into his daily routine. He hated living out of a suitcase, not to mention he missed his bed and home cooked meals. But most of all, he missed his girlfriend Tatum. Because their elective schedules ran at different times during the day, they weren't able to talk despite trying to exchange text messages. Tatum seemed to be having a difficult time about something–Ethan wasn't too sure, but he knew that coming home early to surprise her would make-up for all of the missed texts and phone calls.

Especially with what he was about to do.

Ethan finally reaches the covered porch to his home, shaking his head and arms to get rid of the excess rain droplets. He then checks his pockets to ensure he had everything with him: wallet, phone, keys.

And then his pulse begins to race, a crooked grin crawling across his stubbled chin. He had to check one more item… just one more time. He needs to make sure everything came back with him from his trip.

Setting his bag on the ground, Ethan unzips a secret side compartment that was holding a pair of socks nearly tucked away at the bottom of the pocket. After reaching in and grabbing them, he unrolls the socks carefully before reaching inside the reinforced toe to pull out a small, black velvet box. 

He tenderly opens the lid, and a lump suddenly lodges in his throat as a stinging surge of tears hits his vision. He was doing this. He was actually doing this.

As he stares at the diamond solitaire, all he can see is his Tatum, and the bright and beautiful world they created together. He never realized he was lost until she found him; he never realized he was drowning until she taught him to breathe again. It's like he was blind, but because of her, everything is finally clear.

She's the one. 

Ethan chuckles to himself as he closes the box, hearing his father's warning when he called to tell him that he was proposing to Tatum.  "Don't fuck this up, Ethan J."

Shaking his head, he slips the box back into his duffle before using his keys to unlock the front door. He gently pushes it open, hoping not to wake up his future bride.

Walking into the darkened apartment, Ethan is greeted with the alluring essence of home– that is until he accidentally trips over a pair of boots. 

A familiar pair of men's boots.

A pair that doesn't belong to him.

Suddenly a pained moan infiltrates the air followed by muffled sobs and groans. Tatum.

Was she… was she alright?

Ethan anxiously storms to his bedroom. He wasn't sure what he was about to walk in on. He knew something had happened to Tatum this week, something that really bothered her that spurred her to call and message him so many times even though they both knew they'd be out of commission. 

Shit. An abrupt flash of guilt crashes through Ethan's body. Whatever she dealt with, was she up early, crying about it? Was she having nightmares about it? Maybe even terrors? He didn't realize it was that bad. Shit, if only he had known… he needs to hold her. And love on her. Now.

He pushes open the door.

And the wind tears wildly out of his lungs, his body paralyzed, completely abandoned of sound thought or response. 

He blinks his eyes a few times, assured that something was wrong with his contacts. He can't be seeing this correctly. 

It's too dark. He flips the overhead light on because surely–surely–he wasn't seeing things correctly. 

But then she says his name.

In the most guilty, tear-ladened, shameful tone he has ever heard her utter.

Like a confession.

“Ethan?”

Time seems to halt as his heartbeat roars to life in his ears. A heavy weight presses into his chest as he begins to heave… and then gasp for air.  Bile creeps up the back of his throat, his jaw souring with ache. 

Ethan then abruptly keels over, hands on his knees, and begins to wretch.

[present...]

We should never have happened.

At least I keep trying to convince myself that.

Or maybe we should've…because it's better to have loved and loss… or some bullshit like that…

Goddammit, I hate her.  I hate her so fucking much. For making me care, for making me vulnerable, for making me believe that this was different, that we were special. 

And yet, here I am still thinking about her, wondering about her. Missing her.

She was my world. I gave her my everything; I shared with her parts of me that I was too stubborn, too scared, or too embarrassed to believe even existed.  

Now, I'm left with a wound that is ripped open daily by my incessant, self-inflicted thoughts of her.

And yet, I'd let her break my heart all over again.  If it meant I could smell her hair, feel each last strand pass through my fingertips, let wayward wisps catch in my lips as I kiss her? Just to have one more chance?  Ruin me.

And then I'd beg her to stay with me forever.

And yet, I'd let her break my heart all over again, if it meant I could smell her hair just one more time. Are you kidding me? If I could just feel every last strand pass through my fingertips, let those soft wayward wisps catch in my lips as I kiss her just one more goddamn time? Please, just wreck me, ruin me. Destroy me.

Fuck, Ethan, what is wrong with you? I'm sick of this nightmare, of her evading my thoughts and my dreams. I'm sick of feeling my body betray me, my cock still responding to even just the mention of her name.

She cheated on you. She fucked your best friend, you idiot. Remember that next time you're fisting yourself in the shower, murmuring her name…

Jesus, I want to forget Tatum Erikson. I want to forget her smell, her taste. Now with our apartment gone, I just want–no, I need her gone from every thought, from every single fiber of my being.

She's… my past.

Shoving the hair tie in the trash, I grab my cleaning supplies and the apartment keys and head out to my hotel room. I have an early flight to catch in the morning followed by a pretty packed afternoon back in Boston. A hot shower and a good night's sleep is the perfect remedy after today.

If I can keep my hands to myself…

---

Thank God, that trip is over. As soon as we landed, I got my carryon, picked up my truck and headed back to my shared loft in the city. I feel a sense of absolution, like things are finally taken care of, finished, as if finally turning in the apartment key was the missing piece of moving on from… well, you know. 

Here's to hoping…

I slept like shit last night…not that my dick minded. It got more attention than I intended on giving it in hopes of tiring myself out, both physically and mentally. Greedy little bastard…

Out of frustration, I gave in to temptation… and texted her this morning. Yes, I know it was stupid. It was really stupid, and it could possibly fuck me up further, not to mention it could really blur the lines between us. But to my surprise, she actually agreed to meet up with me at Donahue's for lunch. 

Sure, let's create more problems, Ethan…

I arrive early at the bar, saying ‘hello’ to a few colleagues as I stop to grab a drink. After the past few days, not to mention the interaction I'm about to have, I feel like I've earned myself a drink or two, both as a reward and for courage. 

"Hey, Dr. Ramsey!" The bartender smiles brightly, wiping down the bar. "The usual?"

"Hey, uh, yeah. Sure…" Ronnie? Ryan? Reggie? I'm a shit person. This guy knows my drink order, and I don't even have the decency to learn his first name.

"What brings you in during the lunch crowd, my good man?" He flips over a bottle, draining an amber-colored liquid in a tumbler.

"I, um," I stutter, pushing a hand in my pocket as I lean against the wooden ledge. "I'm meeting someone."

"Ohhhh," he nods as if I just told him a secret. He raises an eyebrow to me, "a lady friend?"

Guilty. "Sorta.”

He snickers, “an afternoon delight!” 

I can feel the crimson crawling up my neck. “Uh, it's… it’s complicated."

"Ain't it always?"  He twirls my glass towards me before dipping his head. "Good luck," he chuckles as he slides down the way to help another patron.

I give him a nod as I drop some cash towards his station. I take my drink and casually pull from it, enjoying the heated notes of citrus dancing on my tongue. Feeling the comforting burn, I survey the dimly lit area, recognizing a few other residents in other programs, but I keep to myself, waiting for her.

But then all of a sudden out of the corner of my eye, it's… fuck. It's her. Tatum.  She's sitting at a table alone, fidgeting with a menu, looking every bit beautiful as she nervously combs and tosses her blonde waves with her fingers. 

I smirk to myself. It's longer. I like it.

But there's something different about her, something I can't quite put my finger on. She's… sad. She has a staged smile on her pretty features, but there's a vacancy in her eyes; there's an emptiness in her demeanor, like she's broken, like she's… someone else. The Tatum I knew had a fire, a fierce joy that could ignite a room with one glance.

Is she… was this because…

Were we in the same boat? Is she miserable, still lost and sad over us? Over our break-up?

Oh, Tate baby…

Does she miss me like I miss her? Does she love me like I…?

Shit, what do I do? I can't just walk up to her, say, 'hello,' especially since all I want to do right now… is take her in my arms and hold her. 

Would she let me take away the pain? Would she give me the chance–give us the chance to work things out? Could she forgive me?

Fuck… 

Could I actually forgive her?

You're getting way ahead of yourself, Ethan…

I pinch the bridge of my nose before downing the rest of my drink. When I look back up, those glittering, ocean blue eyes are locked on me.

And fuck me… I can't stop myself.

I slowly start to walk towards her, a strange magnetism igniting my nerves as butterflies bloom in my chest.

Tate…

What will I say first? Should I hug her? No, you creep. I'll shake her hand. Are you for real? Hell, why am I so nervous? Breathe. Just say hi. And go from there. It's that simple. It's that…

But as I look up, I realize that things aren't that simple. Between Tatum and me? It would never be simple again. 

Not with him around.

My eyes catch a glimpse of why she's here, rather whom she's here to see, and a sudden surge of anger erupts in my veins, my hands balling into fists.

Without sparing a second further, I turn on my heel, and walk towards the exit.

I'm not the fool this time. I refuse to be the fool. I'm not doing this again. God, how could I be so stupid? It was just one look from her and I…

I quickly dig out my phone, hitting the send button to redial the last message I sent. To her.

She answers on the first ring.

"Hey, Harper," I nonchalantly adjust my jeans. "Can we… meet somewhere else?"

----------

Tatum

"Hey, baby." 

Tobias's mouth grazes my lips once, then twice, but my eyes remain trained on Ethan's back as he heads for the exit, leaving Donahue's.

And me. Again.

"Tatum? Earth to Tatum," he chuckles, waving his hand in front of my eyes, breaking my reverie. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." I blink back my unshed tears and force a smile. "I'm sorry, hey," I lace my arms around his neck, planting another kiss on his mouth in hopes he wouldn't notice my distraction. "How was your morning?" 

Tobias runs his hand down his face in frustration. "Let's just say I'm glad to be here with you."

"Me too," I slip my hand into his. "Thank you… for inviting me out to lunch so we can, you know, spend some time together."

"Of course, baby," his expression grows serious as he tightens his grip around my fingers. "I know," he sighs, covering up our hands with his other palm. "I know I've been a jackass to you. And I'm… I'm really sorry, Tate. I’m not exactly used to this, let alone being in a relationship.” He sighs.  “Life is just… changing, you know? So fast."

I playfully scoff into a smirk. "Tell me something I don't already know."  Tobias wiggles his eyebrows, acknowledging that I have him beat when it comes to life changes–not that it's a competition. This was definitely not one I was hoping to win. 

He grows somber, turning his gaze away from me. "You deserve better from me. I know that," his voice grows softer, "I've always known that."

"Tob," but… I don't know what else to say. Would my life be easier without him? Yes. Would my life be better without him? I… don't know. 

It doesn't matter now. 

I exhale slowly. "Do you… ever think that maybe we got a little ahead of ourselves?"

"No." He furrows his eyebrows, his thumb fidgeting with my ring as we fall into an awkward silence. "No," he says more assuredly, "I would do it again in a heartbeat." 

And suddenly, a frigid chill wraps around me, guilt hitting me like a pit in my stomach. He would do it again in a heartbeat? Really?

Because me? I don't think I would. 

He clears his throat, squeezing my fingers endearingly. "You know I love you, right?"

I slowly nod, the corner of my mouth curling into a crooked grin. He really is making an effort, more than what he has been doing since we moved to Boston. I should be happy that he's even trying to make a relationship work between us.

I look down at his large hands, and nod as a single tear falls free, sloping down my nose. He's trying, Tatum. He's not Ethan, but he's trying his best.

It's going to have to be enough. 

"And I love you, too, my little princess," Tobias croons as he lays his hands on my pregnant belly, hidden under the table. The one thing that has tugged on my heart strings through all of this is watching this former playboy become a father. He’s really starting to come around.  "Has she been moving around this morning?"

I nod, smiling at the thought of our growing daughter, kicking and doing somersaults. Maybe she'll be a gymnast someday, or even a dancer with these moves…

We're already halfway there and yet, my mind can't seem to wrap around the idea that what I'm feeling, what is developing and moving inside me is an actual human baby. According to one of my baby books, she's now about the size of an artichoke. I honestly don't know how big an artichoke is, but judging by the sudden shift of my stomach in the past two weeks and having absolutely no pants that fit me anymore, that is one humongous artichoke.

Tobias and I have made some mistakes and questionable life decisions in the past six months, but this little girl, the small flutters she gives me daily gives me an unexplainable joy, a hope that something beautiful can still be born from darkness.

It has to.

We grab a quick bite, satisfying my craving for all things cheesy and dipped in ranch dressing before preparing to head out for the afternoon.  Tobias thoughtfully helps me stand from the table, giving my tummy another tender caress before placing a kiss on my cheek. I'm still fairly independent; even though I already feel quite large, I haven't quite reached the stage of needing assistance. 

But I don't tell Tobias this. I actually think telling him would hurt him. He's terrified and unsure about a lot right now, but one thing he's becoming very good at is protecting me. The rest will come with time and maturity. I just need to keep reminding myself: he is trying.

"Ready for this 20-week anatomy scan?"

He also comes to all of my appointments now.  He's going to be a father.

I chuckle, unable to contain my excitement. I gently glide my fingers across the expanse of my belly before cradling it. "I can't wait to hear that beautiful heartbeat."

"Me, too." He kisses me before lacing his fingers with mine to leave the bar.

And maybe this is a lesson motherhood is teaching me: having a good day doesn't mean everything has to be perfect; rather it's me changing my outlook in seeing the potential of what's to come. 

I miss Ethan. Terribly. And I might always love him.

But I have a man right here by my side who is vowing to fight to change who he is to be the man I need him to be, and that our daughter needs him to be. Because he loves me.  And maybe someday, I will love him, too.

I might not see the whole picture just yet, but I have to believe something beautiful will come out of this.

I had a feeling about today; it's going to be a good day.

Right?

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TRIGGER WARNING: Discussion of unplanned pregnancy

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