Work of Art

by Monica Alexander

  I walked to the hall closet, pulled out what he needed to make a bed on the couch, handed it to him and started to walk away, but he pulled me back into his arms. And when he did, there was no doubt in my mind that right there was exactly where I wanted to be.

  “I’m sorry,” he said again, hugging me tight against his chest, as I inhaled his clean, familiar, and oh so intoxicating scent. “I’m so proud of you for having the guts to raise Tyler on your own, and I know he was so loved because of you. Thank you for making up for me not being around.”

  I pulled back and looked up at him. “Ryan, don’t.”

  “Shh,” he said, as he placed his finger over my mouth. “Just let me be appreciative for this, okay? I know it wasn’t my fault I wasn’t there, but it doesn’t mean I don’t owe you so much for everything you did.”

  I eyed him for a few seconds before nodding.

  “Okay,” he said and removed his finger from my lips. He leaned down and pressed his lips to my cheek for a beat. “Goodnight, Harper.”

  “Goodnight,” I said softly, before I turned to walk back into my bedroom, the dull ache in my chest so familiar to me now.

  I wanted to run back to his arms and bask in the warmth and safeness I felt there, if not because I felt closer to him now after everything we’d shared and the pain we jointly felt, but because I knew he needed someone too. He was going through so much that I didn’t even understand, and I had a feeling he had no idea how to work through any of it.

  I couldn’t imagine learning that your family had sabotaged your life so badly, and I couldn’t blame him if he carried through on his promise to cut them out if they were truly involved. Although it was hard to imagine him actually doing that since it sounded like he’d sacrificed a lot of his own happiness over the years to make them happy. Wouldn’t logic dictate that he’d continue down that path?

  He valued his family’s opinions, and he’d shaped his life around what they’d wanted for him. And that was fine to a point, but he was taking it to an extreme with this wedding. I knew he didn’t want to get married, and if he went through with it, like I knew he would, he’d be making a huge mistake. I could tell he didn’t truly love his fiancé, and I’m not sure he realized it. Of course I’d have a front row seat for that mistake which I was pretty sure was a bad idea all around.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Ryan

  I lay there on Harper’s couch for what felt like hours, staring up at the ceiling and wondering how something so huge had happened in my life and I’d never known about it. I’d had a son. For three brief years there had been someone in the world whose father was me. It was unfathomable, and it might take me years to truly wrap my head around the concept.

  I’d thought for years that my reality was that my girlfriend had an abortion, and I’d come to terms with that reality, but now learning that none of that was true was not something I ever expected to hear.

  And then there was the email and the letter. Someone had created an email account that practically mirrored my own, and they’d taken the time to draft an email that sufficiently ended my relationship with the girl I’d loved. And then they’d drafted an email to Harper telling her the same thing, telling her that I wanted her to have an abortion. I’d seen the email. I’d held in my hands and hated that Harper had thought those words and those requests were mine.

  But the worst part was that when my family found out she was keeping the baby, they’d forged my name to a document that gave up my rights to a child who was legally mine. And my sister had known Harper hadn’t aborted the baby. She should have told me, regardless of how she felt about the situation, I was her brother. She should have told me. She should not have run to my parents.

  I couldn’t believe my family would ever do something like that to me. Didn’t they get the gravity of the situation? Why had they done it? Was it because my mother was upset about the affair my father was having with Maura Connelly? That couldn’t have been it. Were they just dead set against me being with Harper because they thought I could do better?

  There really wasn’t a scenario in which I could imagine what they did coming from a good place. They’d robbed me of getting to know my own flesh and blood, even if it would have been for a short time, and they’d robbed me of it when they’d taken away my right to choose. I couldn’t forgive that.

  I thought about Tyler and his smiling face and how much I just wanted a moment, one moment, to hold him and look at him and tell him that I was his father and I loved him. I wanted him to know that I never wanted to give him up.

  And there, alone in the darkness, I cried for what felt like the hundredth time that night. For my son, for Harper and for me, because the three of us never had the chance to be a family, and no matter what the outcome was, it was how it should have been, even if it was only for a short while.

  * * *

  “Good morning,” Harper said when I opened my eyes the next day.

  She sat across from me in an armchair, her knees pulled up to her chest as she sipped her coffee. Her hair was pulled back and the light was hitting her skin so perfectly that she looked like an angel, all full lips and flawless skin and big brown eyes. She hugged her arms around her knees as I appraised her, and I watched the light bounce off the bright color on her arms. She was so beautiful.

  And I realized I was inadvertently staring.

  I quickly averted my gaze. I had no idea what time it was, but the sun was streaming in through the windows, and it was burning my puffy eyes just enough to remind me of what had happened the night before. I vaguely remembered crying myself to sleep, and my head felt stuffy. I lifted my hand to my forehead, the ache in it prevalent

  “Are you hungry?” Harper asked me.

  “I can eat, but I’d like some coffee first if you’ve got it.”

  She nodded and hopped up from her chair. I should have looked away when I noticed she was wearing little plaid shorts that barely covered her ass and a tiny tank top that didn’t quite hit the top of her shorts. Her cupcake tattoo was peeking out from her shirt as she reached up to grab me a coffee cup. And I couldn’t stop staring.

  I knew I was in deep trouble.

  I’d dreamed about her the night before. I’d dreamed of her and me and Tyler walking hand in hand through the Presidio. And in my dream, Harper and I had sat on a bench while Tyler played nearby, and I’d held Harper’s hand and kissed her, and she’d smiled at me. We’d been in love. We’d been a family.

  Now in the light of a new day, which just happened to be the day of my rehearsal dinner, I was watching a girl who wasn’t the one I was marrying and wishing we were together.

  Like I said, I was in deep trouble.

  “I’ll make you some eggs and toast,” Harper said as she came back to the living room with my coffee.

  I sat up and took it from her, and she smiled, and I almost lost it.

  “That sounds great,” I told her.

  But instead of going back into the kitchen, she sat on the coffee table and appraised me thoughtfully.

  “How are you feeling this morning?”

  I took a sip of my coffee. It was strong and creamy, and I had no idea how she knew how I liked my coffee, but she did.

  “I’m still processing,” I said, knowing I’d be doing that for a long time. “And I’m pissed at my family.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You’re going to see them tonight.”

  I nodded. “Yes, but I’m not going to say anything. I’m not going to start World War Three, because quite honestly, I’m pretty sure that’s what it’ll turn into. I’ll wait until Trish and I are back from our honeymoon, and then I’ll confront my parents. I don’t want to ruin Trish’s day.”

  Shit, I had to tell Trish. I didn’t exactly need to tell her about Tyler. She didn’t need to know that, but she’d be curious if I suddenly stopped speaking to my family, so I knew telling her everything was inevitable. But the last thing I wanted was to make her upset on her wedding day. It could wait. />
  “That’s probably a good idea,” Harper agreed.

  I watched her watching me for a few more seconds, wondering what she was thinking and if she’d tell me if I asked. Was she was feeling half of what I was feeling for her in that moment?

  “Did that hurt?” I asked, chickening out and touching my nose with my index finger as I eyed the onyx in her nose. She’d had a hoop in when I’d first seen her at her tattoo parlor, but she’d traded it out sometime in the past few weeks.

  “Yes, very much,” she said. “But I also have a low tolerance for pain, so I’m not a good judge of how much something hurts. You should have been there when I was in labor.”

  Her face fell almost immediately after she realized what she said, and I knew she’d been trying to make a joke, but all I could hear was the double meaning in her words and felt guilty all over again. I should have been there.

  I closed my eyes for a few beats, knowing I’d inadvertently inflicted pain on her years ago. I should have called her. I shouldn’t have taken that email at face value. I should have gone to her house and demanded to know where she was, and then I would have known years ago that everything was a lie. And I would have been there for her, and I probably wouldn’t be sitting here now questioning every facet of my life and every decision I’d made in the past eleven years.

  When I opened my eyes, Harper was still watching me, her knees pulled up to her chest and her chin resting on them. She used to sit like that in my room, at the top of my bed, and watch me. And I used to love it.

  “What time is it?” I asked her.

  “It’s just after ten.”

  Shit. I overslept, and I was supposed to be at work. I was taking a half day, but I had shit I needed to get done before I left for two weeks for my honeymoon. Oh, fuck it. I’d just work for home for a few hours before I had to leave for Monterey.

  “I’ll make breakfast,” Harper said cheerfully, as she got up to head back into the kitchen.

  Then the front door opened, and I was surprised when a very tall black man entered. “Hey, baby,” he called out.

  “Hey sweetie,” she called back to him. “I’m in the kitchen.”

  Did Harper have a boyfriend I didn’t know about? I thought she said she wasn’t dating anyone. Just the idea of that turned my stomach.

  “And who is this?” the guy asked then, his eyes widening as he gazed in my direction.

  Okay, so maybe he wasn’t her boyfriend.

  “Cupcake, did you bring home a boy to play with last night, because if you did, I applaud you. He is hot.”

  “Stop staring at him, Julian,” she said, as she stood on her tiptoes to give the guy a kiss on the cheek, and when she did her shorts rode up to expose her perfect ass cheeks. Then she turned and gestured to me. “This is Ryan. He’s just a friend, and he slept on the couch.”

  “Baby girl, you need to get some, and here is a perfectly stunning man who is probably very well-endowed, and you didn’t even let him near you, did you?”

  My mouth was sort of hanging open around the rim of my coffee cup, so I decided to take a sip, so I wouldn’t look like a jackass.

  “No, I didn’t, and yes, he is very well-endowed,” she responded. “Or at least he was in high school when we used to have sex, but it’s been a while, so I can’t verify whether that’s still true or not.”

  Holy shit, I was getting hard just listening to her talk about having sex with me.

  “Uh, I’m still well-endowed,” I called out, feeling the need to defend my manhood.

  “See, I told you,” Julian said to Harper, then he stage whispered. “Is this the preppy boyfriend from high school that you were still hung up on when I met you? The one who–” And then he covered his mouth with his hand and truly whispered to her, so I couldn’t hear what he was saying.

  “Yes, he’s that boy,” she said, smirking at me. “And a lot of things were misunderstood years ago.”

  I knew then what he’d asked her and realized he probably thought I was deadbeat who’d abandoned my kid. I felt like defending myself, but I wasn’t exactly sure how to go about doing that. And I wasn’t sure how much Julian knew about our history and Tyler. Had he met him? Had he known my son and I hadn’t? Jealously toward this man started to creep up on me in a very different way.

  “Right,” Julian said, eyeing me warily. “I’ll look forward to hearing that story. So what is he doing on your couch with his shirt off?”

  Harper let out a loud sigh. “It’s a long story, Jules, but leave Ryan alone. He’s a good guy. I’ll tell you everything later,” she said pointedly, and I knew they were going to talk about me once I was gone. I wondered what she’d say.

  “And you really didn’t sleep with him?” Julian asked her. “Because, he’s really hot.”

  “Yes, his is really hot, but no, I did not sleep with him,” she told him, and even though I could hear the exasperation in her voice, my dick perked back up again. She thought I was hot? “Are you here for breakfast? I’m cooking.”

  I felt the sudden need to adjust myself, but I was afraid to draw attention, so I stayed perfectly still.

  “No, I’m here to do your hair, or did you forget?” Julian responded.

  “I didn’t forget,” Harper told him. “So you want food or what?”

  “I’ll eat,” he said casually. Then he turned to me. “I had a date last night with this new guy I’m seeing, and let’s just say we were up late. And I’m starving.”

  He was being subtle, but I could understand exactly what he was telling me.

  “Uh, congratulations,” I answered, not sure what the proper protocol was in this situation.

  I suddenly very much wanted my shirt, but it was draped over the other end of the couch, and I wasn’t moving with the semi I was sporting after listening to Harper talk about how we used to have sex and calling me hot. If she only knew what she was doing to me.

  “Thanks,” Julian responded. “I’m in love, so it’s all good. Now tell me, what is going on with that head of yours?”

  “My head?”

  “Julian’s a hairdresser,” Harper informed me as she cracked eggs into a bowl. “He’s really good. You should let him give you trim before the wedding.”

  “What wedding?” Julian asked before looking between Harper and me.

  “Mine. It’s tomorrow,” I told him.

  “You’re getting married tomorrow, and you’re waking up half-naked on Harper’s couch. You know that’s probably not a good thing.”

  Yeah, you’re telling me.

  “What are you doing to your hair?” I asked Harper, turning to her and ignoring Julian’s comment.

  “Dying it back to all one color.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m going to a society wedding. My tattoos and piercings will set people off enough. I’m not looking forward to being a freak show for multiple reasons. Two’s enough. And I don’t want your family giving you shit for me attending, so I’m wearing a dress with long sleeves and my hair down to cover my neck. It’ll be fine.”

  “You’re not a freak show, Harper,” I told her, feeling shitty that she felt she had to adjust her style for my family’s benefit. I wanted to tell her she was beautiful and her tattoos just enhanced that. “Leave your hair the way it is. I like it.”

  She leaned over the counter and beamed at me. “Thank you, Ryan, but I think I’m ready to go back to brown anyway. The pink was fun, but I’m kind of over it.”

  “Good thing you have a hairdresser at your disposal,” Julian piped in, sounding just this side of sarcastic.

  “Hey,” she said, pointing the spatula in his direction. “I let you bring your new boyfriend here for a date when you were too embarrassed to bring him to your place. You owe me.”

  “Fine,” he said, and I stifled the chuckle I wanted to emit, loving her brazenness.

  Chapter Twenty

  Ryan

  “I’m so excited that we’re getting married tomorrow,” Trish said as s
he finished putting on her make-up in front of the mirror in our hotel room.

  Her overnight bag was packed, and she was going to stay with her maid of honor, so we wouldn’t see each other until the ceremony the next day, but first we had to get through the rehearsal and a dinner party with our families.

  Ever since I’d left Harper’s apartment that morning, I’d been mulling over everything I was feeling, and my mindset was fucked up to say the least. And Trish was smiling from ear to ear. I felt like a jerk, and I hadn’t even done anything wrong.

  “Babe,” I said, and I started to tell her about what I’d learned the night before, mostly because I was getting anxious about seeing my family and needed to talk to someone, but I stopped, suddenly remembering why I wanted to wait to share everything with Trish.

  Mostly I didn’t want to put a dark cloud over our wedding because of my family’s involvement, but I also knew how awkward it would be for Trish once she knew and then had to see Harper. She never even knew Harper had gotten pregnant years ago, because I thought it was a moot point, and there was no need to air dirty laundry. Seeing her and knowing that we’d had a child together would be hard for Trish. I’d tell her after the honeymoon.

  “Yeah?” she said, waiting expectantly for me to continue my sentence.

  I smiled instead of answering her right away. “You look beautiful.”

  She smiled a wide smile and walked over to me. “Thank you,” she said, as she cupped my cheek. “Thank you for choosing me and loving me and making me your wife. I’ll make sure you have a great life, Mr. Carson.”

  Then she leaned down and kissed me.

  Trish’s maid of honor, Katherine, came in the room five minutes later and told me she was taking Trish for a pre-rehearsal drink with the bridesmaids and I could collect her in 30 minutes. I thought about calling my brother to see if he’d meet me at the hotel bar for a beer, but I had a feeling he was holed up in his room with his new girlfriend. When I’d met her in the lobby earlier, they’d barely been able to keep their hands off each other. So I figured I’d call Brandon. He’d have a drink with me.