“Don’t you want me to live in New York with you, Oliver?” Her eyes had been pools of misery and I would have rather faced a hostile jury then to face the guilt that ground my guts when I looked at her.
“Of course it would be nice to have you in the same city, Simone, but I’m not ready to live with someone and I work a lot.” I’d tried to be gentle but realistic. “I don’t want you to think I’ll be around often because I just don’t have time.”
“But you live here with me when you visit Paris. How is that different?”
Our conversations went round and round. She had vacillated between being hurt, to cajoling, to threatening to cancel her contract with Ford and my law firm, Beckett, Johnson and Day. I’d never been so glad to leave Paris in my life.
IT WAS A bitterly cold day in New York as I walked from the subway in Midtown to my office building. Snow had been falling all day and I wondered if there’d ever be a time when I saw snow again and didn’t think of Alexis West and the car accident. I’d just pulled my scarf tighter, anxious to get inside the warmth of the building when my cell rang. I peeled off one of my gloves to slide the bar on my iPhone.
“Hello?”
“Oliver?”
“Hey Phil, what’s up?” Phillip was my older brother by seven years and worked in the home office with my dad and other brother, Nicholas. I was the lone wolf who had opted to leave home and work out of our New York office with my uncle, Frank.
“Where are you?” There was an edge to my brother’s voice that made me slow my pace.
“I’m in New York. Why – what’s happened?”
“I don’t know how to break the news to you gently. Dad’s had a heart attack. They just rushed him to the ER.”
I jerked to a stop, forcing the people on the sidewalk to fan around me.
“How bad is it?”
“I think it’s pretty bad. I’m on my way to the hospital right now. I’ll call you when I know more.” His voice was heavy with worry. “You need to come home, Oliver. And plan to stay for a while.”
Chapter Seventeen
I didn’t know whether to throw up, stomp my foot (which would have been painful) or run away, which was impossible as I still couldn’t drive plus I was stuck in the car with my mother. Not only was Ryan Leeds becoming partners with my father, but now I had to sit at a dinner table with him like his profound betrayal had somehow been erased with time?
“Lexie?” My mother’s voice echoed with concern. “Are you okay?”
I ground my teeth together. “When is he coming?”
“Tomorrow night at six. Your father wanted to go over the contract one last time before they finalize the details with the attorney. Did you know he has a son?"
I chewed on the inside of my cheek and looked out the window, shooting death rays at anything I could latch my gaze on to. Was I really having this conversation?
“His name is Dylan and he’s—”
“Three.” I snapped the word out. “Yeah, I know, Mom. I remember when Ryan had to get married because he’d gotten that girl pregnant.”
“Oh, right.” Her voice softened as if she’d just realized it was a touchy subject. “But he’s divorced now, you know.”
I had a mouthful of snarky comments I wanted to hurl at her like shurikens—those razor-sharp ninja throwing star thingies—but I ground my teeth and told myself I wouldn’t take my anger out on my mom. I’d moved passed Ryan Leeds. We had broken up. What he’d done with his life didn’t matter to me. Really.
“It’s fine, Mom.” I glared at the car on the road next to us. “I’m not going to have dinner with him, but you and Dad can do whatever. I need to work, anyway. My agent is waiting for my next manuscript.”
“How is your writing going, dear?” Mom seemed relieved to change the subject.
I hesitated. Drat. Why had I brought that up, anyway? “Ummm, I’m working on a new story she’s very excited about. Still waiting to hear on the other. You know the publishing world—slow slow slow.”
“Oh. You’re working on something new?”
“Yeah,” I lied. “I’m still trying to figure it all out though. Which is why I’m going to work tomorrow night.”
MY STOMACH WAS in a knot all day. It didn’t matter how long or how loud I talked to myself—I was afraid to see Ryan. Afraid that I might still be in love with him. I imagined his sandy brown hair that flopped over his forehead and the freckles that dotted his nose. He had an infectious grin like he was up to something—which he usually was. Half-panicked, I called Nandini.
“Talk fast, Alexis. I’ve only got five minutes. What’s happening?”
I filled her in on the West family soap opera. “What do you think I should do?”
“It is a very simple thing. Do not make eye contact with the snake.”
Her simple answer made perfect sense: the best thing to do was to avoid Ryan entirely. That way I’d never have to face if I still had feelings for him or not.
AT FIVE-THIRTY I grabbed a couple pieces of cold pizza and headed to my room. I wasn’t going to take any chances of running into Ryan if he showed up early.
“I’ll be upstairs,” I yelled to my mom who was setting the dining room table. Really? Ryan didn’t deserve more than a bar stool at the kitchen counter, if you asked me. But nobody did.
I clunked up the stairs in my walking cast mentally counting the days until I got rid of these horrid things. The doctor had said only one more week.
Once in my room, I shut the door tightly. Take no chances, suffer no pain. That had been my mantra for a while now and it worked. I flopped on the bed and pulled my computer over onto my lap, shoving a bite of pizza in my mouth at the same time. When I lifted my laptop off the nightstand, I saw the book underneath which it had been resting on. The book I now thought of as Unwritten—blank pages waiting to be filled with my inspired brilliance. Except I hadn’t found any inspiration yet. Or maybe I should say still.
The white scroll cover looked delicate and beautiful. I imagined the handwriting inside and the words that were written there. I started to reach for the book, then stopped, my hand frozen in mid-air. Those pages would never be filled if I didn’t get to work. Focus, Lexie, I mentally commanded myself and turned back to my computer.
The black cursor blinked at the top of the blank white page like a metronome counting off the seconds. Write—some—thing—write—some—thing… but what?
I had decided I was going to start fresh—write a different genre this time—perhaps that would spark some of my creative juices—that is, if they hadn’t all completely dried up. My first book, FAÇADE, was set in Victorian London with characters who had paranormal powers but blended in with the real world. That book had been easy to write—the ideas just flowed. My main character was a kick-ass girl named Netta, who had trusted the wrong guy. Not so different than me, I realized now. This time, I’d decided I was going to write a contemporary story. That should be easy enough.
I stared at the page.
Who were my characters? Where was my setting? What was their conflict?
It was a dark and stormy night. Lame, but least they were words on the page. I could go back and revise later. Sami tiptoed up the stairs, her heart pounding in time with the tick of the grandfather clock in the foyer below.
I took a bite of pizza and stared at the words I’d written. I dropped my pizza onto the plate and wiped my hands on my jeans then typed the next line: The shadows followed her up the steps and she fought the urge to look over her shoulder.
I could see the scene in my head. I could see my main character: dark hair, in her 20’s. But why was she sneaking up the stairs at night? What was up there that she wanted? And what was in her way?
The answers didn’t come. I’d type a line, then delete it. Mostly I stared at the page while my mind wandered to other things. My gaze was drawn to the book again. I picked it up and opened it to the handwritten note at the beginning:
Take a leap of faith—
The future is unwritten.
I sighed and let the book drop to my lap and ran my fingers over the white swirls of the cover, a tactile contrast to the rough material of the hardcover. Oliver. Sometimes I wondered if I’d dreamt him. Where was he now? Had he gone to Paris? Was he back in New York? Did he think of me half as often as I thought of him? Did he think of me at all?
I held the book to my chest and closed my eyes, imagining his face, though my memory of his features was starting to become hazy. I was afraid I was going to forget what he looked like.
A loud banging shook my door frame and I screamed as I jerked my eyes open.
“Lexie! Can I come in?”
Oh shit. There was no mistaking that voice. It was Ryan Leeds.
Chapter Eighteen
It was surreal to be back in the hometown I didn’t claim anymore. In some ways it was as if I’d never left. The iconic buildings were the same, the landscape was the same. The weather was the same. I suspected the dysfunction in my family was the same. It made my skin crawl to think about being stuck here for weeks on end and having to deal with it.
Even though my step-mother had left my father years ago, she had a way of keeping the pot stirred. It had been her family money that had started my father’s firm in the first place and she never let him forget it. Unlike me, my brothers had always stayed in touch with her, which somehow minimized the degrees of separation between her and my father. She still liked to toy with him, jerking him around like a puppet at the end of her manipulative string.
Phillip had called back to tell me that Dad had been stabilized but they were going to have to do a quadruple bypass in the next week or so. He was on bed rest until the surgery. Which meant I had to take over his caseload. Luckily, our New York office was a much larger firm with multiple partners outside of our family, so there were interns and other attorneys who could assist with my caseload there.
“Stay as long as you need, Oliver,” my uncle had boomed over the phone in his cigar-strained voice. “Your old man needs you more than I do right now. We’ll manage ‘til you get back.”
I had thought about staying in a hotel but Phillip insisted I stay at Dad’s house.
“It’s big, it’s empty, it’s got a beautiful view,” he’d said. “Why wouldn’t you stay there?”
There were a thousand reasons why but I just grunted into the phone, instead. What was the point, anyway? My brothers swore they hadn’t been affected by my parent’s divorce like I had but at thirty-two, Phillip had already been divorced once and had just married a woman named Suzette who had two boys from a previous marriage: a five year-old and a two year-old. My other brother, Nicholas, was four years older than me and at twenty-nine had been divorced twice and was now engaged to be married to his pregnant girlfriend this summer.
And then there was me. Needless to say, marriage was not in my future.
“Besides,” Phillip continued, ignoring my silence, “Dad’s going to need somebody there with him 24/7 when he gets home. We’ll have to take shifts but it would help if someone was living with him.”
“Yeah, it’s fine.” I propped my elbow on the window sill of the cab and watched the view fly by. “I’ll be at the hospital by two. See you then.”
We went by a large body of water with snow-capped mountains in the distance and I held my phone up to the window and took a picture. Simone always liked to see where I was. ‘I imagine I’m there with you, Oliver,’ she’d said in her sexy voice. We hadn’t talked any further about her upcoming move to New York. I punched the camera roll icon to scroll through the mini pictures when one caught my eye. I jabbed it with my thumb and a familiar face filled the screen of my cell phone: Alexis.
She was asleep in the hospital bed, her blond hair in a swirl on the pillow around her head. Her bruised right eye was turned away from the camera and the delicate contours of her face were revealed. She looked like—Sleeping Beauty. The words popped into my head as clearly as if I was still sitting in the room teasing her.
I had deliberately not allowed myself to look at this picture, trying to forget that odd time when we were snowed in at the hospital and two strangers had bared their souls. Hopefully, she’d forgotten it as well. But as I looked at her picture, I admitted something that I’d been avoiding. My father wasn’t the only reason I’d come home to Seattle.
Chapter Nineteen
Before I could answer, the door burst open and Ryan stood there grinning at me. It was a moment out of time. We could have still been in high school. Still in love. His brown hair was swept across his brow and he grinned at me like a little boy on Christmas morning. A flash of some emotion I couldn’t define—didn’t want to define—rushed through me.
His face sobered as he eyed the cast on my arm and leg. “Whoa, Lex, what the hell did you do to yourself?”
I slid the book out of sight under my pillow and moved the pizza over to the nightstand, irritated that he assumed I had done something rather than something had been done to me. I awkwardly pushed myself upright and stood with a slight wobble, conscious of his eyes following my every move.
“Hello Ryan,” I said coolly. He looked to be in much better shape than the last time I’d seen him, with muscles bulging under the sleeves of his polo shirt. “Why are you in my bedroom uninvited?”
Something flickered in his eyes and I knew he was debating between his go-to smart-ass answer and the look-I’m-an-adult-now answer. He’d been in my bedroom plenty of times in the past and we both knew it.
To my surprise, he shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged, almost looking embarrassed. “Your mom told me to come up and get you.”
“She did not.” The words flew out of my mouth.
His brow pulled down in a frown. “Why wouldn’t she? It’s time for dinner.”
I stared at him, conflicting emotions pulling me in different directions. This was the new Ryan—the one who looked so sincere—but it was also the new me—who knew he could leave me and sleep with the next girl.
“I’m not joining you tonight.” I straightened my spine. “I’ve got to work.”
“Really, Lex?” His voice bordered between exasperation and something painful. “You can’t take an hour off?”
I wanted to say ‘it’s not a matter of can’t but a matter of won’t’, but I took the high road and swallowed the words. If Ryan was really going to become my Dad’s business partner, then I would have to learn to tolerate him.
“Sorry, but I’m on a deadline.” What a liar I’d become. So much of him was familiar—the quirk of his mouth, his easy smile, the messy hair—it was as if no time had passed and we were still two kids in high school heading out on a date. Had it really been over three years?
“C’mon Lexie—” there was a pleading expression in his eyes. “Can’t we even be friends? I’ve grown up a lot since college and I’ve got so much to tell you. I’ve missed you—”
“Daddy! Daddy!” A little boy’s voice called up the stairs followed by the clumping sound of small feet. “The Gramma says to come down for dinner.” A miniature Ryan ran into my room.
It was, without question, the most surreal moment of my life.
He wrapped his arms around his father’s leg and looked at me curiously. “Are you Lexie?”
In that moment, the chunk of ice that my heart had become melted in a way I’d never expected.
DYLAN WAS SO sweet for a moment I forgot how much I hated Ryan. But the little boy’s presence also put into perspective just how much things had changed—Ryan had been married, become a father, was investing in a business. His life was dramatically different from when I knew him in high school and college. Maybe he was dramatically different too.
“YEAH, YOU SHOULD come.” Ryan gave me an expectant look. “They’re fun.”
“I don’t know.” I looked down at my plate. So not only was Ryan a dad now, but he was coach of Dylan’s T-ball team and wanted me to come to a game.
“Jessie comes,” Dylan said in h
is little boy voice.
I looked over at my sister and raised my eyebrows, not sure what emotion surged through me. “What?”
Jessie’ cheeks turned pink and she shot a glance at Ryan. The strangest feeling floated in my stomach, like I’d swallowed a big question mark.
“Yeah, sometimes I babysit Dylan. He’s fun.” Jessie bumped her fist with the little boy. “Aren’t ya, big guy?”
“The funnest!” he cried.
Ryan leaned back and patted his lean stomach. “That quiche was the best, Barbara. I might need to get that recipe.” He scrapped his chair back from the table and stood up, reaching over to lift Dylan from his booster chair. “Let me help you with these dishes, then we better take a look at the contract so I can get this little guy home to bed on time.”
I didn’t know what to think or feel. My ex-boyfriend had an ex-wife and a little boy of his own now. My sister, it seemed, had somehow become friends and a babysitter for him. My father was bringing him into the family business as a partner and my mother swapped quiche recipes with him. I had a sick feeling that when I’d left for New York, Ryan Leeds had stepped into the West family and taken my place.
Chapter Twenty
The sounds and smells of Swedish Hospital were overly familiar as I made my way to my father’s room. I’d come straight from the airport to the hospital and pulled my bag behind me through the hallways to the elevator. Phil had informed me that the doctors had inserted several stents into my father’s heart and surgery was scheduled for next week.
I slowed as I neared his room. The door was open, but the privacy curtain was pulled. I parked my bag near the door so the sound of the rolling wheels wouldn’t wake him and peered around the curtain. Dad was asleep in the bed, looking older than the last time I’d seen him. He’d always kept in shape but he looked gaunt, no doubt worn out by the trauma his body had been through.
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