My Way Back to You: New York Times Bestselling Author

by Claire Contreras

  “I just miss him,” he said in a small voice, his bottom lip quivering as he looked at me. My shoulders fell. I walked around the counter and over to him, pulling him into a hug.

  “I miss him too.”

  “Is Rowan going to be my daddy?”

  “You mean if he moves in?”

  Miles nodded against me.

  “Miles.” I pulled back to look at his face. “Rowan is your daddy.”

  “My real daddy?”

  “Yes. What do you think about that?”

  “I like it.” He smiled.

  I cut up his waffles and followed his instructions on how Rowan prepared them for him—adding chocolate syrup and more whipped cream. I was surprised Rowan would allow this breakfast for Miles. It looked like something he wouldn’t go near.

  “So, I take it you like Rowan.”

  “I like him a lot.” He stuffed an oversized bite into this mouth.

  “Would you like to change your last name and be Miles Frederick Hawthorne?”

  He glanced up, brows pulling in slightly. “What’s Hawthorb?”

  “Hawthorne. Ha-th-orne,” I said. “It’s Rowan’s last name and since he’s your daddy, it can be your last name as well.”

  His lips pursed as he seemingly mulled it over. Finally, he nodded. “I like it.”

  “Good.”

  “What’s your last name?”

  “Monte.”

  “Not Hawthorbe?”

  “Hawthorne,” I said. “And no.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because Rowan and I aren’t married.”

  “I’m not married.”

  I sighed heavily and explained the difference between marriage and being born into a name. Miles wasn’t impressed.

  “When is Uncle Freddie coming home?”

  “This week.” I smiled wide at that.

  Freddie had a long way to go, but he was making progress. He’d start rehab four days a week, but at least they were letting him come home. Dad had been staying in Freddie’s apartment and Mom in Celia’s. My grandmother left for upstate earlier in the week. She’d wanted to plan a birthday party for me once Freddie was discharged, but I asked her to leave it alone. I wasn’t sure how Freddie would feel about a three-hour drive right now and I wasn’t really in the mood to celebrate anyway.

  At Prim, I met with my team and went over the status on the furniture for the hotel. Everything seemed to be running smoothly until Ryan called me into his office to tell me Natasha and he got into a disagreement and she wouldn’t sign the contract to provide the fabrics. I sat across from him and let him get the whole thing off his chest, trying my best not to reach over the desk to strangle him.

  “All you had to do was smile, go over the papers with her, and have her sign them,” I said. “Instead, you chased away what could potentially be our best fabric maker out there. And the cheapest. What the hell, Ryan?”

  “She’s a royal—”

  “Don’t you fucking dare.” I glared at him. “If you’re going to call her a bitch, you might as well go ahead and call yourself one, too, because you’re acting like one.”

  He balked. “Is everyone on their period right now?”

  “Oh, lovely.” I scoffed. “Let’s bring that into the equation.”

  “I don’t understand,” he said, lowering his voice. He truly looked clueless. “I told her the skirt she was wearing was nice and she went off on me.”

  “How did you say it?”

  “I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Nice skirt.”

  “Like that? In that tone?” I was missing something. He sounded bored.

  “I looked at it.” He stood. “Stand up so I can show you.” I did, waiting for him to continue. His eyes traveled the length of me slowly, provocatively, and then he sat, gave me another once-over, and in a low, husky voice said, “Nice skirt.”

  I blinked and slowly sat again. Had I not been stupid obsessing over Rowan and the way he made me feel when he looked at me, I would’ve totally been turned on. “You’ve got to be kidding,” I said.

  “No, and then she told me she had a serious boyfriend and that I should be ashamed of myself for objectifying women just because they’re wearing a form-fitting skirt,” he said, throwing his hands up. “What the fuck?”

  “Maybe avoid commenting on a woman’s wardrobe, especially if you’re going to do it like you want to bend her over your desk.”

  His eyes widened slightly. “I didn’t mean to imply that.”

  “But you did.”

  “Jesus Christ. I have never in the thirty-four years of my life had a woman get offended over something like that,” he said. “I have three sisters! I would never—”

  “I’ll talk to Natasha and fix this,” I said as I stood. “Hopefully. I’ll keep you posted. If not, we’ll use the blues from Hawthorne. They’re providing us with the rest of the colors.”

  Ryan smiled. “What’s going on with Hawthorne?”

  “None of your business.” I walked over to the door.

  “I heard you may be moving in together soon.”

  “What?” I whipped around to face him. “He said that?”

  “Where else would I get that sort of information?”

  “I swear, men gossip more than women do,” I muttered, walking out of his office.

  “Please send Natasha flowers on my behalf,” he shouted.

  “I’m not your secretary,” I shouted back.

  “Ask Chloe to.”

  “I’m not your secretary either,” Chloe shouted back.

  I headed to the fifth floor, inhaling the woodsy scent. Sam wasn’t in his usual workspace, so I walked right up to Rowan’s door and knocked once, twice, until he invited me to come inside.

  He was sitting behind his desk, sleeves rolled up, exposing his muscular forearms as he signed a paper. When he looked up at me, a smile that warmed me all over lit up his expression.

  “Hey, baby.”

  “Hey.” I smiled, closing the door behind me and making my way around his desk. He pushed his chair away, pulled me on top of his legs, and cupped my face to give me an unrushed, soft kiss that had my pulse skyrocketing by the time I pulled back.

  “How was Miles this morning?”

  “Sad.” I adjusted my position and wrapped my arms around his neck, resting my head on his chest.

  “Why sad?” His hand ran a comforting line down the length of my spine.

  “He wants Rowan to make his waffles, Rowan to do this, Rowan to do that,” I said. “He misses his daddy.”

  Rowan grinned. “He said that?”

  “He did.”

  “He called me his dad?”

  “He did.” I couldn’t help my own smile.

  “You told him?” He urged me to sit up so he could see my face and I obliged, grinning as I did so.

  “Really?”

  I nodded before he put both hands on my face and pulled me into another kiss. “We’re going out to celebrate.”

  I laughed. “Where? It’s a school night.”

  He reached over me and clicked his mouse, opening his calendar. I glanced at it with him. All his meetings seemed to be on there. Today’s date had two things: Email Enrique and meeting with Sprite. My gaze slid to his.

  “Meeting with Sprite? Seriously, Rowan?” I shook my head. “That doesn’t sound professional.”

  He kissed my shoulder. “Who cares? I’m the only one who looks at this.”

  “You need a secretary,” I said, looking at all of the meetings. How did he keep track of these?

  “I have one. Rosa’s on maternity leave. She comes back in a few weeks.”

  “You couldn’t get a temp in the meantime?”

  “Not like Rosa. I don’t trust anyone else around my stuff.” His eyes twinkled. “Unless you’re available.”

  I laughed outright. “You can’t afford me.”

  “Probably not.” He chuckled and leaned against the back of the chair. I stood, grabbed my sketchbook, and sat at
the table that was on the far side of his office. “Why don’t you just sketch directly on the tablet?”

  I made a face. “I hate technology for stuff like that.”

  “Seriously?” He joined me, seeming to take up all of my space. “You don’t have a tablet you sketch in?”

  “Yeah, but I’d rather do the first few drafts on paper. I feel like I find more mistakes when I can’t erase them. It’s weird.”

  He made me sketch on the tablet anyway and I did only because no one had used it before and I could see he was dying for someone to try it.

  “You’re so good,” he said with a sense of awe in his voice that made my cheeks warm.

  As I sketched, I told him about the Ryan thing, adding, “So, yeah, you should probably talk to your friend.”

  “Fucking Ryan.”

  “I know.”

  “We were so fucking close,” he said. “I need to buy that company.”

  I stopped sketching. “You’re joking.”

  “Of course, I’m not. How much money could she possibly want? I’ve seen their factory,” he said. “Natasha’s, Ana in Guatemala, Blanca in Nicaragua. They must have a price.”

  “Why not buy big shipments from them?” I asked. “Help them grow their companies instead of going in there like a damn invading army and taking over.”

  He stayed quiet for a long moment. When I realized he wasn’t going to say anything else, I went back to the sketches. I made a few designs. One with tiny spaceships, another with small wolves, a third with owls.

  “I can keep going,” I said, setting the pencil down. “But you get the idea. Do you have any ideas for the logo?”

  “Fairy wings.”

  “Be serious.” I laughed, slapping his arm playfully. He caught my hand.

  “I am serious.”

  “You know you can’t call it Sprite, right? That’s taken by a pretty big company.”

  “Really?” He lifted my hand to his mouth and bit it lightly. “I wasn’t aware.”

  “When are you going to tell me about what happened with the lawyer?”

  “Everything’s done and being processed.” His eyes hadn’t stopped glimmering with happiness since I got there, which in turn made me happy.

  “Do you want to come with me to pick up Miles?”

  “Hell yes.”

  When we got there and Miles spotted us, he took off in a run, opening his arms wide. Rowan crouched and caught him in a hug, enveloping him in his arms. I waved at the teacher as we started to walk away. Rowan hadn’t let go of Miles.

  “I’ve missed you so much,” he said into his hair. Miles pulled back long enough for me to give him a kiss. He looked at Rowan.

  “I thought you left because I made you mad.”

  “What? No way,” Rowan said. “Nothing you do could make me angry enough to ever leave you. I just wanted to keep you safe while I took care of some things.”

  “From the lady at school?”

  Rowan stayed quiet for a beat, looking over at me. I shrugged. “That was part of it, but now I can come hang out with you whenever you want.”

  “Are you going to move in?”

  Rowan chuckled. “We’ll have to see what your mom says.”

  “Mommy doesn’t make waffles like you, or dinner.”

  “Be gentle with Mommy. She has a lot on her plate,” Rowan said, wrapping an arm around my shoulder as we walked. I’d never felt so happy in my life than I was in that moment.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Tessa

  Rowan wasn’t kidding when he’d said these galas were stuffy and obnoxious. They were necessary though. I figured that out after the second conversation I had with a woman about the curtains in her house and how she couldn’t find the right fabric for them. Rowan’s attention was on me the entire time. Even as we spoke to different groups of people, he let me know he was right there, his fingers brushing against mine, his gaze catching mine briefly. He was wearing a tuxedo that I’d been dying to rip off him since the moment he put it on.

  “You okay?” Rowan asked as he pulled me away from the bankers we’d been talking to.

  “I’m fine.” I smiled, linking my fingers through his. “Do you think I didn’t go to events like this in Paris?”

  “I don’t want to think about you in Paris at all.” He leaned down and kissed my jaw, his breath tickling my neck. “The only thing I’ve thought about all night is tearing that dress off you.”

  “Hm. We’re having the same thoughts then.”

  He pulled back, his eyes smoldering. “Really?”

  “Yes, really.”

  “Have you given my proposal any thought?”

  “You haven’t proposed,” I said, arching an eyebrow.

  “I seem to remember many proposals.” He mimicked my expression. I felt a blush creep up on my neck and face.

  “The shower doesn’t count. Nor the bed.”

  “Hm.” He made a little growly sound at the back of his throat that threatened to make me cave right on the spot. He pulled me away from the people beside us and pushed me against the column, leaning into me and sucking on my exposed neck. My breath hitched.

  “What about the kitchen counter? Does that count?”

  “Nuh-uh.” I tried to shake my head, but I could barely breathe.

  “Against your office window?” he rasped against me. “On my balcony? In the elevator?”

  “Rowan.” My voice was a pant as need built between my legs.

  The proposals were all tests to see if I’d say yes when he really asked me. I knew that. Of course, I’d said no every single time, even in the throes of passion, which drove him absolutely crazy. The butterflies in my stomach lit up at the thought of just how crazy. His divorce was officially finalized, but I liked the pace in which things had been moving. I didn’t want to ruin it with a proposal. Truth was, I was pretty sure I was scaring him by saying no.

  “Well, isn’t this a picture.”

  I closed my eyes as Rowan pulled away from me and we faced Camryn. Of course, she’d be there.

  “What do you want?” Rowan asked.

  Camryn smiled as she looked at me. “I heard the kid is yours after all.”

  I was glad we were standing behind a column and out of sight from the crowd, because I felt my blood drain and then shoot back into me with fierceness. I let go of Rowan’s hand and took a step toward her. Whatever she saw on my face made her take a step back, directly into the marble column. Her eyes widened.

  “You know, your pathetic, sorry existence never bothered me,” I seethed, adrenaline rushing through my veins. “But if you come anywhere near my son again, I will fucking kill you.” I must have lifted my hand and gripped her throat in my rage, because when Rowan grabbed me by the shoulders, that was where it was.

  Camryn panted, grabbing her neck with both hands. “She’s attacking me!”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rowan said. “I suggest you take her advice and leave us the fuck alone.”

  I was shaking as Rowan escorted me out of the gala and into the first taxi we found. When we got to his house, he helped me out, making sure the short train of my dress didn’t get caught in anything, and when we got inside, he pushed me against the door.

  “You’re so fucking hot,” he said, his lips crashing against mine. His tongue swept into my mouth in one swift motion, rattling my pulse. I pulled his jacket off, the vest under it, tugged at his pants. He tore at my dress, ripping the zipper as he tried to tug it down. When it pooled at my feet, he took a step back, his gaze smoldering as he dragged it over every inch of my naked body.

  “You weren’t wearing any underwear?”

  I smiled, shaking my head a split second before his body was pressed against mine again. He devoured my mouth as his hands touched every inch of my skin and dipped between my legs, spreading them slightly. I complied, letting him slip his fingers through my folds, arching my back off the door when he pushed his fingers inside me. I gasped, grappli
ng for his dress shirt, the waistband of his pants. I needed it off. I needed him inside me. He let out a low chuckle when I pleaded for this, his eyes on mine, his nose just inches from mine.

  “Please,” I said again.

  “I love you,” he said against my lips, his other hand working on his pants as he continued to push his fingers in and out of me, making me wetter and wetter with each motion.

  “I love you, now please,” I whined.

  “Marry me.”

  “Rowan, shut uppppppp.” The desperate cry ripped from the back of my throat.

  “Marry me.”

  “Ask me again tomorrow,” I panted. He took his fingers out of me, and I whined again. “What the—”

  His hands grabbed my ass, hauling me up against the door as he thrust into me hard. Shit. My head fell back with a loud thump.

  “Oh my god,” I said again and again until I climaxed around him and he pulsed deep and hard inside me.

  He exhaled heavily, dropping his forehead onto my shoulder, still holding me up. “You are the most badass woman I know.”

  I laughed, unfolding my legs from his waist and finding my footing again. “You ripped my dress.”

  “You can sew it back together.” He winked as he picked up the rest of our discarded clothes. “Maybe you can start sketching your wedding dress.”

  I laughed. “Probably not.”

  It was a lie. I’d sketched more than just one wedding dress in the last couple of months, but he didn’t need to know that just yet.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Tessa

  I decided that if there would ever be a time to do something about Camryn, it was then, and it was with that thought in mind that I called Mildred. She answered after a few rings and I held my breath for a beat before saying, “Mildred, it’s Tessa.”

  I’d rehearsed my speech a million times and it sounded dumber each time I recited it, so I squeezed my eyes shut and hoped for the best. I was sitting in the most incredible office in Manhattan, an office that rivaled rich men in Wall Street. I was damn good at my job. I was also a damn good mother, sister, daughter, and girlfriend. There was nothing Mildred could say that would take away from any of my accomplishments. Those were the things I reminded myself of.