My Way Back to You: New York Times Bestselling Author

by Contreras, Claire

“That doesn’t sound half bad.” I closed my eyes again. “I’m going to need two pounds of coffee to get through this day.”

  “On it. Go shower.”

  “On it.”

  * * *

  An hour later, we were at a bagel shop close to the hospital, standing in the longest line for bagels I’d ever seen.

  “They better taste like heaven.”

  “They do. Check the Yelp reviews if you don’t believe me.”

  “What does heaven taste like?” Miles inquired.

  “Good question,” I said. “I have no idea.”

  “Hm.” He pursed his lips as he looked around. “So why do you say that?”

  I felt myself smile. He was so damn cute. “It’s just an expression.”

  “Like ‘bite the bullet’?”

  “Yeah, like that,” I said, shooting my brother a-what-the-fuck look. “Where did you hear that one?”

  “Uncle Freddie says it a lot.” His voice was quieter when he said Freddie’s name. He blinked up at me. “Is he going to be okay?”

  If I’d ever had a doubt about whether hearts could break, seeing the uncertainty in his eyes and not being able to reassure him would have proven to me that it was very possible. I swallowed and nodded as I lifted him into my arms. He wrapped his arms around my neck and settled his head on my chest as if he’d known me his entire life. I held him tighter.

  “Uncle Freddie’s a strong guy. A soldier, the most badass motherfucker I know,” I said. “He’s going to be just fine.”

  I believed the words I spoke because I knew Freddie and if there was ever anyone who could get out of something this serious, it was him. We were finally seated. I carried Miles over to the table, ordered a quick box to go, grabbed one of those bagels, and promised I’d be right back. It took me ten minutes to get to the hospital in an Uber, and when I reached the ICU waiting area, they were all strewn across the chairs. Tessa’s parents had their heads leaning on each other’s and were asleep. Tessa was lying on two chairs, as was Celia. Joan was the only one up and about, stretching her arms over her head and cracking her neck. She glanced up when she saw me approach with the bagels and coffee.

  “You are a savior,” she said. “I’m never saying that again, so revel in it.”

  “How’s Freddie?”

  “Awake. Finally. The doctor just came by, but I’m letting them sleep a little longer. They’re still running tests.”

  “Any news on the spinal injury thing?”

  “Not yet.” She took the box of bagels and set it on a side table. I followed her and set down the box of coffee and the cups, then walked over to Tessa. I crouched in front of her and brushed her hair back, needing to touch her.

  “You better take care of that girl this time around.”

  “With my life,” I said, standing and facing Joan. “I mean that.”

  “And Miles.”

  “Especially Miles.”

  She narrowed her eyes on me, judging . . . considering, and then she smiled. “I believe you. How’s the divorce coming along?”

  “Not fast enough.” I ran a hand through my hair. “I don’t know what else to do to speed it up.”

  “Want my advice? Give her what she wants and get yourself a restraining order. Tessa was talking to Celia about it last night and she means it when she says she doesn’t want Miles anywhere around that woman.” She shrugged, turning back to the bagels. “Don’t say I never did you any favors.”

  A restraining order against Camryn? That seemed extreme. I’d get one if Tessa asked me to but getting one without any other justification than my disdain for the woman didn’t feel right. I said goodbye to Joan and let her know where I was taking Miles for the day. On my way back to the bagel shop, I mulled over what she’d said. I’d known Camryn my entire life. I knew she wasn’t capable of physically harming anyone. Would she? I shook the thought away. No. She wouldn’t. She was too self-involved for that.

  When I got back there, Miles was finishing up his eggs and bacon. I told him and Sam the good news about Freddie being awake.

  “What happened with the fabrics lady?” Sam asked as I sipped on my coffee.

  “I called her before we left Miami, she understood our situation and is willing to Skype with Tessa about the fabrics. We’ll see what happens.”

  * * *

  Miles thought the library was cool, but too quiet, so we didn’t stay long before moving on to the Children’s Museum. There, he ran around and played registrar while I shopped for pretend-groceries.

  “Bread goes in a baggie,” he said, pointing at me. “Remember that next time, mister.”

  I chuckled. This kid was something else. He had a response for every item I put on the tiny conveyer belt.

  “What about oranges?” I asked. “They have a shell. Do they need a baggie?”

  This gave Miles pause. “But if you have more than one orange, you’ll drop them everywhere.”

  “That is true.” I chuckled. “Baggies it is.”

  We moved on to the fishing exhibition, where you grab plastic fishing rods and toss them into a pond they had in hopes of catching magnetic fish. Miles’s eyes lit up every time he got a bite.

  “You’re good at this. Have you ever been fishing?”

  “No.”

  “Not even at Joan’s?”

  “Nana’s gonna take me soon.”

  “I’ll take you,” I said. “If your mom agrees.”

  “Okay.” He smiled wide. “Can mommy come?”

  “Of course.”

  “Can Uncle Sam and Chloe come?”

  “Of course.”

  “Can Cody come?”

  My eyes snapped to his. I wanted to say fuck no but thought better of it. Instead, I gave a small nod. “Sure.”

  I needed to talk to Tessa about that, but now wasn’t the time. We finished up in the museum and walked out and down the street. My stomach growled when I saw the Indian place down the block, but something told me that Miles wouldn’t be too thrilled with eating there. We ended up at a pizza joint that sold pizza by the slice. This, he liked. It was either the best pizza I’d ever eaten or I was just starving.

  Tessa had sent a few texts throughout the day asking if everything was okay and keeping me posted on what she knew about Freddie, but by the time we got to their apartment, we hadn’t texted in at least an hour, which made me think that she was starting to trust me with him. Upstairs, I put away the leftover pizza and went into his room to take out his pajamas and get him ready for bed.

  “Does mommy give you a bath or do you bathe yourself?” I asked.

  “Mommy does.”

  “Okay. Let’s do that first then.”

  I filled the tub and poured some of the bubble bath he said Tessa used for him. I watched as he played with what he said were PJ Masks toys and joined him even though according to him I did every single voice wrong. He followed that up by telling me that his mommy always did the voices the right way, which seemed to be the running theme for the day. I wanted to point out that he used the same exact voice for each character, but I wasn’t three and I didn’t take offense to his observation.

  It took a couple of minutes longer than I anticipated to get him out of the tub because he wanted to keep playing. In the end, I bribed him with popcorn and a movie.

  Once he was dressed in his pajamas, I put on his movie of choice, which was Frozen. I’d heard a few Dads talk about it during galas and networkers. They hated it, but it was a pretty cool movie. I’d have to ask Tessa what her thoughts on it were. Miles fell asleep before the girl with the brown hair got to the trolls, which was a shame since that song was the best one I’d heard thus far. I picked up his little body and took him to his bed, mimicking everything I’d seen Tessa do the other night.

  I switched off the television in the living room and went to Tessa’s bedroom, turning the movie back on there instead, not because I liked it but because I couldn’t start watching a movie and not finish it.

  Chapter Tw
enty-Eight

  Tessa

  My apartment was quiet when I walked in the door. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected. It was past Miles’s curfew, after all. I guess deep down, I wasn’t sure that Rowan could actually handle it all, but everything was spotless and Miles was sleeping soundly in his bed. I walked quietly to the bathroom and looked in there. I could smell the bubble bath I limited to Saturdays only since Miles had a hard time getting out of the tub when I let him use it. I smiled, imagining the way he’d probably given Rowan the runaround and convinced him to let him do the bubbles. When I walked into my room, the television and the lights were off, but he’d left the bathroom light on, and I could make out his sleeping form. I showered quickly and dressed in a long T-shirt and boy shorts before joining him in bed. He stirred when I kissed him.

  “Hm.” He wrapped an arm around me, pulling me flush against him. “Missed you.”

  The words curled inside me. Was this how it would always be between us? “Missed you too. Thanks for breakfast and for taking care of Miles.”

  His eyes opened slowly. “Don’t thank me for any of that.”

  “Not a lot of people would have done either of those things.”

  “I’m not a lot of people. Miles is my son and you, Tessa Monte, are my world. I’d do anything for either of you.”

  His words spread warmth inside me. I snuggled into him. “Did he con you into the bubble bath?”

  “Not much of a con when all he does is mention mommy. ‘Mommy lets me. Mommy does this. Mommy, Mommy, Mommy.’ I wasn’t sure if I wanted to slap you or make love to you when you got here.”

  I smiled against the crook of his neck. “What’s the status on that?”

  “I’m not sure yet.” He yawned. “How’s Freddie?”

  “Alive.” My voice shook as I said the words. “The doctors say he’ll be fine and able to walk. I wasn’t able to see him though. It’ll have to be tomorrow. I was too tired to wait.”

  “I bet.” He kissed my shoulder, my neck. My pulse quickened. “Go to sleep.”

  But I didn’t want to go to sleep. My emotions were running rampant and I wasn’t sure if I could attempt turning them off. I wanted to talk about things, but more than anything, I wanted to feel him inside me again. I wanted him to give me one of those searing kisses that made me forget what day of the week it was. I said this aloud and he responded with a little growling sound that seemed to come from the back of his throat.

  “You need rest, baby.”

  “I need you more.”

  He scooted close and pressed his lips against mine, his tongue coaxing my mouth open. He kissed me with the fervor of a starving man, as if he hadn’t taken his fill the other night, and I matched it because it was how he made me feel—utterly needy for him. He positioned us so that I was on top of him, straddling the length of him. I took advantage, even with both of us still dressed, grinding down on him and reveling in the feeling of him pressing against me, of my lips on his.

  “Rowan,” I moaned to let him know I needed more. He wrapped his hand around the back of my neck and sat up as I moved, his hips lifting to the rhythm of mine, meeting me where I needed him. “I’m going to—”

  “I know, baby.”

  And then I was shaking with the orgasm. He used the moment to sit up against the headboard, yanking his T-shirt off and tossing it aside. His hands came back to my sides and he did the same to me, peeling off my T-shirt and tossing it aside, his fingers hooking into my shorts and underwear, making me shimmy out of them and come right back to him, the only fabric separating us was that of his boxer briefs, which I pulled down before he rolled so I was tucked beneath him.

  He was fully covering my body, his mouth coming down on every inch of me—my neck, my chest, tugging each nipple into his mouth softly, then biting as he let go. I shook beneath him from that alone. He did it again and again until I was panting audibly. Then he made his way down my stomach, which quivered with the feel of his beard grating against it. I grabbed his hair on instinct. His gaze snapped to mine, those blue eyes darkening into a pool of desire that I’d gladly drown in.

  “Ro,” I heard myself whisper, my voice hoarse. He pressed his mouth to my mound, a soft kiss. I shifted, my body contorting this way and that to get his mouth where I needed it. I gripped his hair tighter. “Rowan.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Please do something.”

  “I am doing something.” The corners of his mouth lifted slightly.

  “I feel like I’m going to explode.”

  “That’s the point, babe.”

  “Rowan,” I grated, drawing out the word as he licked between my folds once, twice. I wouldn’t be able to handle this. I’d die. I knew I would. I gripped his hair harder. He chuckled.

  “If you wanted me to shave my head, you could’ve told me.”

  “Not funny.” I moved against him.

  “That’s right, baby,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Grind on my face.”

  I did just that, moving against his tongue, his fingers, which joined and plunged into me as he licked my clit. The build came on fast, the pressure mounting in my core with each dirty word he spoke. I squeezed my eyes shut, throwing my head back, my body thrashing as he continued to pump his fingers inside me, his tongue lavishing me, his deep groan welcoming the orgasm he pulled out of me.

  His mouth made its way back up my body. I thought he’d pause to kiss me, hold me. I had it on the tip of my tongue to ask for more when he spread my legs farther apart and thrust inside me, burying himself to the hilt, making me feel like I couldn’t move an inch. I felt. Him everywhere. I cried out again, digging my nails into his biceps.

  “Rowan.”

  His gaze held mine as he thrust in and out, in an unrushed state, taking his time with each stroke, letting me feel him completely. I sucked in a shaky breath. It all felt like too much. I’d wanted to. Let go of everything building inside me, but the way he was looking at me only added more weight, making me feel fuller.

  “I love you,” he said again and again, as if he needed to make sure the words would sink in. He tweaked my nipples with his fingers, slowing his pace, pulling in and out slowly as he brought his face to the crook of my neck. “Don’t ever leave me, baby.”

  And that plea spilling from his lips was what did it for me. I tightened around him as he groaned my name, and as I climaxed again, I brought a hand up to his face, held his gaze and said, “I love you, Rowan Hawthorne.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Tessa

  I sat behind my desk and dialed Natasha’s number on the Skype of my computer, gearing myself up for an argument, but the woman who answered the video call was not only soft-spoken and incredibly polite but also absolutely stunning, with dark hair and pale skin. She looked like Snow White.

  “Natasha?” I asked to be sure.

  “Yes.” She smiled. “You’re Tessa.”

  Her English was great too. “I’m so sorry we couldn’t make our meeting the other—”

  “Oh, my goodness please.” She waved a hand, securing a flyaway hair into her sleek ponytail. “How’s your brother? Is everything okay?”

  “He’s still in the hospital, but the outlook is good.”

  “If you don’t mind my asking, what happened?”

  “He . . . his job is dangerous and puts him in the line of fire sometimes. Quite literally.” I wasn’t sure how much information I could divulge about it, not that I knew enough to be harmful, but still.

  “I’m so sorry,” she offered, and she actually looked sorry. “I hope he’ll be okay.”

  “He will be. He’s a strong boy.” I smiled a little, taking a breath. “So, the fabric?”

  “Yes. The fabric.” She brightened up and pulled a large swatch of royal blue leather into the camera’s view. “Mr. Hawthorne said you were looking for something like this.”

  My heart pounded against my chest as I looked at the fabric. I didn’t want to jump the gun and shout that it was exactly what
I was looking for, but it really was, and I was awful at hiding my emotions. “That’s exactly what I need.”

  “He said you need the leather for a car? And then more bohemian fabrics for a boutique hotel?”

  “Yes.” I didn’t bother to rein in my excitement, my eyes still on the fabric in her hands. “Where did you get that?”

  “Colombia.” She said it with pride—or, as my grandmother would say, with gusto.

  “And you won’t sell it to a man,” I said, which had her cheeks flushing prettily as she shook her head.

  “It isn’t that I’m a man-hater. I’m sure that’s what it seems like to everyone. I know no one is interested in my life story or anything, so I won’t bore you with it, but I had a lot of harm done to me and my company by men who profited while the rest of us scraped by. I refuse to let that continue.”

  “I think it’s commendable.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’d also love to buy your fabrics. You’d make good money,” I offered. “Our acquisitions person is a man, though, so you’d have to deal with him.”

  “But the project is yours.”

  “The projects are mine.” I smiled brightly, the way I did every time I thought about the position I was in. “And as long as I can get these done in time and do them right, I’ll have more projects and need more fabrics.”

  “Okay. I’m sold.”

  “You are?” I think I squealed it. She laughed.

  “I am.”

  We decided that she’d overnight me the fabrics the minute I transferred the money into her account and she’d fly up next week to meet with Ryan Ford and sign contracts. When it was settled, I informed the team and headed to the hospital.

  When I got there, Celia was walking out of Freddie’s room with one hand on her stomach and another over her mouth, visibly upset. I rushed over to her, catching her as she nearly fell over.

  “What happened? What happened? Is he okay?” I looked up at the closed door.

  She nodded, still crying, unable to get a word out. I let go of her and ran into the room, stopping at the foot of the bed when I saw the doctor, two nurses, and my parents who were around his bed. What held me in place was the sight of my brother, my big brother, lying in the middle of a hospital bed with bandages on his head and face. Had he been shot in the face? Something wasn’t adding up. They’d said his spine, and what I saw was a mummy-looking thing that they said was my brother.