by Bella Andre
“Smith just called to let me know about some new press.”
She tried to shrug off the quick hit of panic by joking, “If it’s just more awful pictures of me—”
“It’s an interview with your ex.”
At that point, even Ryan’s warm hands on her arms couldn’t keep the chill from moving over her. “What did he say?”
“Stupid stuff. He’s obviously upset that you’ve moved on.”
She could see how angry Ryan was, the muscle jumping in his jaw, the murder in his eyes. She looked at his phone on the counter. “Is that what you were reading?”
Reluctantly, he handed it to her and held her even closer as she started to read, his arms around her obviously meant to hold her steady.
Vicki’s heart pounded hard as she scanned through the part where Anthony talked about his latest successes and achievements. He’d always been a master of letting people know just how well he was doing without it seeming like bragging. He’d been just as good at tearing her to shreds without her realizing it until she was already married to him—every word from his tongue a sharpened knife.
Finally, she came to the part of the interview that had her heart thudding almost to a stop in her chest.
Thirty years have come and gone since Anthony Abbott’s first lauded sculpture. I ask him about the many changes we’ve all witnessed in his work over the past three decades, especially in the past twelve months.
“I know what you’re really asking,” he replies as his self-deprecating laughter fades away, leaving behind something best described as a deep, strong ache. “True love, broken hearts—how can they not impact a person? It doesn’t matter if you’re an artist or an accountant, when love comes into your life and turns it upside down, there’s love in everything you do.” He is silent and I can feel him weighing his next words carefully before he softly adds, “And if love leaves—when love leaves—everything you touch is replaced with brutal pain.”
“He always thought he was such a poet,” Vicki snarled.
“He’s an ass,” Ryan agreed, but she was already reading further...far enough for anger to turn to nausea.
Abbott’s ex-wife is newly engaged. Not to an artist, this time, but to professional baseball player Ryan Sullivan.
“I wish them nothing but the best,” he tells me as he lights a cigarette and takes a few strong pulls on it. “Perhaps because of what I do, I’ve always been attracted to beauty. Victoria is an undoubtedly beautiful woman, one I knew I had to have the moment I saw her. I have no doubt her new fiancé feels the same way.” His brow furrows as he jams his cigarette into the ashtray. “I just hope he knows to be careful…to make sure he comes first.”
Does he believe his ex-wife used him to further her career?
Anthony stares into the distance for a long time before finally shaking his head. “I’d like to believe that’s not the case.”
“Oh my God, I can’t believe he all but said that I used our marriage to try and advance my career!” The phone fell from her hands, but Ryan just let it fall and pulled her closer.
“I’m sorry, Vicki.” He kissed the top of her head and his hands stroked down her back. She realized she was shaking against him as he said, “I’m sorry you were ever married to him. I’m sorry I wasn’t there with you all these years. My lawyer is going to make that reporter wish she was—”
“It’s not the reporter’s fault.” Funny, her voice sounded so steady when her insides felt like they’d shattered into tiny little shards swimming around inside her chest, a thousand little cuts nicking her as she rewound and replayed Anthony’s words in her head. “She didn’t put the words into his mouth. He’s the one who thought I was using him, even though the truth is that marrying him was the worst thing I could have done for my career.”
Anthony had always made sure to shove her into a shadowed background whenever she made the mistake of trying to catch even the smallest piece of the limelight that he’d already claimed for himself.
“He’s an idiot. We all know it.”
“You know it. I know it. But he just gave voice to what people have always, and will always, think. They think I used him.” She made herself meet Ryan’s concerned—and angry—gaze. “They’ll think I’m using you, too.”
“You can’t let him win. Not when he’s nothing but a bitter, self-absorbed prick.”
She didn’t want to let Anthony have any more of her soul than she’d already lost to him during their marriage. The only problem was, she couldn’t completely discount the fact that her ex might be just a little right, too.
“What about the fact that I didn’t tell you I was here until I needed you to step in with James to keep the fellowship from slipping away? Or what about the fact that I wanted to be with you for so long, but was so afraid to actually tell you how I felt—that I created this lie and pulled you and your family into my messed-up life? What if some part of what Anthony is saying about me, about the way he thinks I use people, is actually true?”
“Stop it.”
Ryan put his hands on her shoulders, but even though he was holding her firmly in front of him, his fingers on her skin were gentle. Loving.
“You reached out for me because I’m your friend and you were in an ugly situation. I came because I love you and would do absolutely anything for you. If you think I give a rat’s ass what anyone else thinks about you and me and our relationship, then you’re going to make me question everything you just told me in bed this morning.”
His eyes held hers, dark, intense, and full of unconditional love.
“Don’t do that, Vicki. Don’t even think about taking it back, not after I’ve waited so goddamned long to know that you feel the same way I do.”
Tears spilled down her cheeks. “I would never take it back.”
Finally, he smiled at her as he brushed his thumbs across her cheeks. “I would never let you.” His phone rang again and he cursed when he looked down at the screen. “I’ve got to get on the team plane.” He cupped her face in his hands. “Promise me you won’t let any of the stupid things some asshole said in an interview get in the way of finishing your brilliant sculpture. Especially not when you know he probably made sure that interview ran to coincide with his joining the fellowship board this week. You gave him ten years. He doesn’t deserve even one more second.”
Vicki had been on the move her whole life. She could feel that desperation to leave—to bury the past, to start over again in a place where her past didn’t matter and no one knew her—starting to take her over. If she left, she could still hold these memories of being so close to Ryan this past week inside herself forever. And no matter how far she went, she knew she would never forget what it felt like to be in his arms, to feel safe and cherished.
But…leaving Ryan once when she was just a teenager had nearly destroyed her.
How could she even think about running from him now?
Especially when his open arms were the only place she ever wanted to run to again—and he was oh so right about Anthony not deserving even one more second of her energy.
A heartbeat later, his hands were in her hair and her mouth was under his as he kissed her so thoroughly, so passionately, that everything fell away but Ryan...and how much she loved him.
When he finally let her go, she didn’t open her eyes right away, just let herself feel the hard, fast beat of his heart beneath her outstretched palms as she worked to catch her breath.
“All those years that he and I were together, I ignored that little voice that told me something wasn’t quite right with our marriage. It was so much easier to listen to his voice and to everyone around me who said I’d be crazy not to want him. And he was so smooth, always had the perfect excuse for everything. I thought I could make him into the husband I needed. Over and over that last year we were together, I dreamed I was trying to carve marble with my fingers. I longed for tools to chip, to carve, to sand. But all I had were my hands, and they weren’t enough. I could give my
entire life over to it and still wouldn’t have made even the slightest dent in the rock. The dreams stopped the night I left.”
She opened her eyes back up and held Ryan’s gaze as she admitted, “I’m still learning to listen to that little voice.”
“What is it telling you?”
She went up on her tippy-toes to press a kiss to his mouth before whispering against his lips, “To give you that promise.”
And to love him with her entire heart…and soul.
* * *
Ryan had barely closed the front door behind him when her phone rang. The past few days she’d gotten used to ignoring the calls from reporters and bloggers, but when she recognized the Italian country code, she knew she had to pick up.
Of course Anthony wouldn’t be happy with merely giving the horrible interview. He’d want to make sure she saw it so that he could rub it in her face.
Damn it, she wasn’t going to let him run her in circles. “Your tricks don’t work on me anymore, Anthony, so you might as well quit trying.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Signorina Bennett?”
Oh! It wasn’t her ex-husband calling. It was an Italian woman. One who was clearly confused by Vicki’s outburst.
“Si, I’m sorry, this is Vicki Bennett.”
“I apologize for calling you with no warning,” the woman said in perfect English with a pretty Italian accent. “I am with the Museum of Contemporary Sculpture in Matera. We have been reviewing your work for the past few months and I am calling with some very good news. We have selected a dozen of your works to be put on display, and would be very pleased to offer you an artist-in-residence position.”
While she’d been in Prague, Vicki had sent packages to a dozen museums around the world with artist-in-residence programs, deciding she would let fate be her guide.
She’d thought fate had chosen San Francisco. And Ryan.
What the heck was fate up to now?
Knowing the woman likely expected her to accept on the spot, Vicki finally managed to at least say, “I’m thrilled that you’ve chosen my sculptures for your museum, of course, but—”
The women cut her off by informing her of a much larger yearly artist-in-residence grant amount than she would make in San Francisco.
If she even won the fellowship.
“We would like to give you some time to consider the position, of course. But we absolutely must know by the end of the week so that we can prepare the exposition and accompanying literature in time for your arrival. I’m sure you understand our position. We have emailed you all the details.”
The woman did not have to spell it out any further. If she didn’t accept within a week, the opportunity would go to another sculptor.
And she would have lost the biggest chance she’d ever had.
Taking the residency in Italy was about more than that. Because it meant it didn’t matter if she got the San Francisco fellowship anymore. Which meant that she didn’t have to worry about James or Anthony...and she and Ryan wouldn’t have to pretend to be engaged anymore.
But it would also mean leaving Ryan.
Yes, she knew they could probably figure out a way to make a long-distance relationship work, at least for the first few months after the season ended and his schedule was more flexible. But as soon as next baseball season began, nine months would go by before he would be able to get a plane to Europe.
She pulled the ring out from under her shirt and instinctively curled her hand around it. It wasn’t real.
But could it become real with more time? With more honesty? With more risk?
And more faith?
Vicki promised the woman she would read through everything carefully, and that she would have an answer for her soon.
Chapter Twenty-four
As soon as Ryan boarded the Hawks’ team plane, he was pulled into a strategy session with the pitching coach and catcher to study the lineup of the opposite team and go over the strong and weak points of every hitter. He already had a good sense of who was hot, who chased the fastballs, and which batters he could fool with his changeup. Good enough that his brain kept spinning back to Smith’s concerned phone call and the way Vicki’s face had fallen when he’d told her about the interview with her ex.
Smith had gotten back in touch to ask if there was anything Ryan wanted his PR team to do. Clearly, his brother was perfectly happy to use his connections to take down Vicki’s ex, especially within a community of ultra-rich movie people who had probably thrown plenty of money the sculptor’s way over the years.
It was really tempting to let Smith do that, just as he’d been all for his brother taking James apart. But Ryan couldn’t forget what Vicki had said that first night at the cocktail lounge. “If I win the fellowship, I want to know that it was because of the quality of my work.”
Smith and Marcus and the rest of the well-connected Sullivan clan could easily pull every trick and favor in the book for Vicki. But doing that would strip away her victories just as badly as her ex-husband had stripped them from her during their marriage.
Of course, Ryan still wanted to fly to Italy to rip the dickhead’s heart from his chest for hurting her.
The second the plane touched down, he called her. “I hope you have clay all over your hands,” he told her voice mail. “I miss you already. And I love you. Call me when you get home.”
By the time the Hawks got into Busch Stadium for a light workout, Ryan was more than ready to blow off some steam. He worked out so hard, in fact, that Bobby, the pitching coach, had to pull him aside.
“Looking good out there, Ryan. We’re getting ready to head out for dinner. You ready to go?”
Ryan put down the weights he’d been lifting, knowing it was time to quit ripping his body apart today. As the Hawks’ ace on the staff, he was pitching the first playoff game. He knew better than to blow out his muscles the day before a game, especially a huge game like this. But he’d never been slave to such frustration before. Not since that day when he’d watched Vicki ride her bike away from his house after she'd told him she was moving again. He’d ended up running after her, running long after she was out of sight, running until his legs had finally given out.
He hadn’t made it to the game at the high school that night. It was the only one he’d ever bailed on.
Just thinking about what he’d seen in Vicki’s eyes that morning—knowing she’d been thinking of leaving him again after what her ex had said—had all of those emotions rounding back on him. Only they were bigger, stronger now than they’d been when he was just a kid with a massive crush on his best friend.
“I’ve got a few things to take care of,” he said as they headed toward the locker room. “I’ll get something to eat later tonight.”
The gray-haired man he’d worked with for the past decade leveled a stare at him. “You need to talk anything over, give me a call. Doesn’t matter how late, I’ll be around.”
Ryan appreciated the gesture, but there was only one person he needed to talk to right now. He grabbed his bag without hitting the showers and headed for the hotel. His phone rang just as he was closing the hotel room door behind him.
“Hi, gorgeous.”
“Ryan.” Vicki sounded a little flustered and shy. “Hi.”
They’d talked on the phone a handful of times over the years they’d been apart, but this was the first time since they’d made love.
Damn, he loved the sound of her voice.
Even just the sound of her breathing.
“Hi,” he said again, grinning into the phone as he heard her putting her keys down on the kitchen counter.
“Are you in the middle of something?” she asked.
“Nope. The night’s all mine.” And he planned to spend it with her. “What about you?”
“I just got home.”
He’d never had anyone waiting for him before, and the thought of coming home to her kisses in a few days sent warmth moving through him. He loved pic
turing her in his house.
At long last, the frustration that had been riding him all day started to dissipate.
Of course he wanted to hear about the progress she’d made on her sculpture, and he needed to make sure she hadn’t let her idiot of an ex-husband derail her. But first he needed to make sure she understood that all the miles currently between them didn’t mean a damn thing...and wouldn’t stop him from loving her just as thoroughly as he would have if they were standing in the same room.
“Remember what you were about to offer me right before I left today?” He couldn’t wait for her reply before saying, “Your first naked night is tonight.” He grinned even wider at her stunned silence. “I sure hope you aren’t saying anything because you’re too busy taking off your clothes.”
Finally, she gave a little laugh into the phone. “Actually, I’m standing here wondering if you’ve been watching the X-rated channels in your hotel room.”
“I don’t need porn when I’ve got plenty of triple-X pictures in my head of you in the shower, in your studio, and in my bed.” He let the images of what the two of them had done in all those places run through her mind for a few seconds. “Put the phone on speaker, place it on the kitchen counter, and take off your tank top.”
“You’re serious?”
“You have ten seconds to take it off, Vicki.”
“Or what?” Her voice was breathy now, and obviously aroused. “You’re all the way in St. Louis.”
God, he loved her. How playful, how strong, how loving she was. All the years they’d spent apart, he’d been searching for a woman like Vicki. If only he’d realized long before this week that he’d never find a replacement for her—that she was the only woman he’d ever love—then maybe they wouldn’t have wasted so many years apart.
They couldn’t get those years back.
But they could make the most of every single one they had left.