Work of Art

by Monica Alexander

  No, we weren’t.

  I wasn’t sure if there was anything else to say. I thought about telling her everything, spilling my guts out about everything I’d learned about Harper and Tyler and my family, but it seemed so pointless. And it would seem like I was trying to justify my actions and minimize the impact of what I’d just done, because how could I be expected to be happy and get married after everything I’d just learned? But that wasn’t the truth. What I’d learned was just a small part of the reason why I wasn’t happy and didn’t want to get married, and I wouldn’t use it as a crutch. I wouldn’t use Tyler’s story like that. I wouldn’t dishonor his memory.

  So I started to walk to the door. “The limo will be waiting out front to take you whenever you’re ready,” I told Trish. “I’ll instruct him to take you to the hotel to get your things and then to the airport or to our apartment. I’m sure you’ll want to pack up a few things before you go home. I’ll stay away today. I’ll give you your space.”

  She nodded. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

  I took a deep breath. “Take care, Trisha.”

  “You too, Ryan.”

  I closed the door to the bridal suite and leaned back against it for a few beats, hating myself so much. And then I went to tell the limo driver the change in plans. I waited until I saw Trish leave the bridal suite using the outside exit, watched her walk to the limo, climb inside, and I watched her drive away, wishing the whole time that things could have turned out different. But they hadn’t, and I’d done something I couldn’t take back, and I’d hurt someone I truly cared about. That was just my reality.

  After a few minutes, I knew I needed to head back inside. When I was walking into the church, I ran into John.

  “You told her?”

  “Yes. She just left.”

  “What do you need me to do?”

  “Can you tell, Mom? I need to get out of here, and I’m going to be public enemy number one in about five minutes, and I just can’t deal with her.”

  “Tell Mom what?” my mother asked from behind me, her tone full of ice.

  I froze. Then I turned around to face her. “I’m not getting married today.”

  She laughed a short, non-humorous laugh. “Don’t be stupid, Ryan,” she sneered, but I stood my ground.

  “Shut up, Mom.”

  It was completely childish, but damn did it feel good to say it to her.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me. Now get out of my way. I’m leaving.”

  “Ryan Nicholas Carson, you’d better think this through before you do something that will embarrass this family. There is a church full of people out there who have come to see you get married, and you will get married.”

  “No, I won’t,” I said raising my voice just enough so she knew I was serious. “Mom, I don’t love her. I won’t marry someone I don’t love. Besides, Trish is already gone.”

  “This is about that Connelly girl, isn’t it?” she snapped. “The one who tried to ruin your life ten years ago, and she would have if–”

  She stopped talking because she’d said too much, and she knew it. “If what, Mom? If you hadn’t sabotaged our entire relationship and made me think she aborted our baby? Is that what you were going to say?”

  “I don’t know what you’re taking about,” she said, her voice raising a few octaves.

  My dad chose that moment to walk up to us. “What in the world is going on out here, and what is the hold up?”

  I just glared at him and turned back to my mother.

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Mother. Harper and I figured it out. You’re sick, both of you, creating fake email addresses and emailing each of us the one thing you knew we’d never forgive. You broke us up, and you thought you’d fixed the issue until Lisa ran into Harper and saw that she’d decided to have the baby.”

  My mother put her hands on her hips. “I did not want a bastard child of yours being brought into this world, especially if it linked you to that girl for the rest of your life. You were eighteen, Ryan. You were in no position to be a father or a husband, so I took the opportunity away for you, and you should be thanking me. You went to Yale and have a career you can be proud of. If you would have become a father at eighteen, you wouldn’t have had any of that. I did it for you.”

  I gritted my teeth and shook my head. “No, you didn’t. You did it for yourself, because you couldn’t stand having a son who didn’t have an Ivy League education and a six figure salary. You couldn’t stand that everyone would know Harper had gotten pregnant in high school. You hated the thought of being a topic of gossip. That’s why you did it. Don’t even try that bullshit that it was for my own good. I don’t believe that for a second.”

  “Ryan, you will not talk to your mother that way,” my father roared.

  “Screw you, Dad. You’re just as culpable in this situation as she is. I’m done.” I pushed past them. I was finished with the conversation, and I no longer wanted to look at either of their faces.

  “That girl tried to ruin your life,” my mother called after me.

  I spun around and faced her. “No, Mother. You tried to ruin my life, and you damn near got away with it. You already took away the opportunity for me to know my son, you’re not taking anything else.”

  “What do you mean I took the opportunity away from you? Go know your bastard son if you feel so inclined to. I’m sure that girl will welcome you into her life with open arms, what with your trust fund and your bank account.”

  I stepped up to her face, coming so close to reaching out and striking her. My dad tried to push me back, but I shrugged him off.

  “First of all, Harper probably has more money than I do. She’s an accomplished painter, photographer and tattoo artist. Her work is beautiful, regardless of the medium. Hell, Trish bought three of her paintings without even knowing who she was. Second, don’t ever call my son a bastard. He was a beautiful little boy who did nothing wrong and only deserved to be loved by both of his parents, but he grew up thinking he didn’t have a father, and that’s your fault. You robbed him of ever knowing me, and you robbed me of ever knowing him, because not only did I find out two nights ago that he existed, but I also found out that he died seven years ago. So when I tell you that you took something from me that I can never get back, I’m not being dramatic. You took my son from me, and now I’m going to take yours from you.”

  “Ryan, don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Oh, I’m being far from ridiculous, Mother. Please don’t contact me again. I’m finished with you.”

  Her mouth dropped open, and her eyes closed to almost slits, but I didn’t respond. I just turned and walked out of the church and away from my family for good.

  “Ryan!” my father roared behind me, but I just kept walking.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Harper

  “Hey,” Brandon said when he let himself into our hotel room. “I didn’t think you’d be here.”

  I shrugged, my knees pulled up to my chest as I sat against the headboard of the king-sized bed. Brandon looked a little disheveled. His tie was loosened, the top few buttons on his shirt were undone, and his shirttails were hanging out. And hair looked like he’d been running his hands through it repeatedly.

  “I didn’t have a ride and didn’t feel like trying to find one. How was the ceremony?”

  I wasn’t sure why I was asking. I didn’t really want to know.

  Brandon raised an eyebrow at me. “It’s wasn’t. Ry called it off.”

  I nodded, not really surprised to hear that. I’d had a hunch that was what he was going to do when he chased me out of the church. Although I knew he hadn’t done it because of me. There were too many factors pulling him toward that decision, and I might have been one, but I wasn’t the sole reason.

  “Is he okay?” I asked, concern for his well-being at the top of my mind.

  Brandon leaned back against the door. “Don’t know. I’ve been looking for him f
or the past hour. John told me Ryan and his mom got into it, and he stormed out. No one knows where he went, but John said Ryan kept telling their mother that she’d tried to ruin his life.”

  I bit my lip, pretty sure I knew exactly what Ryan and his mom had argued about.

  “What?” Brandon asked, eyeing me warily. He knew I knew something.

  “Nothing,” I said, avoiding his gaze.

  In my peripheral vision, I saw him push off the door and walk into the room. He sat on the couch and watched me, waiting for me to start talking.

  I didn’t look at him. “The whole thing is really messed up, and his parents were pretty much behind it all.”

  “What thing?” Brandon asked, as he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.

  “Ryan and me – our history,” I said flatly. “I thought he broke up with me, he thought I had an abortion, but in reality, his parents concocted these fake emails that we thought were from each other in an effort to break us up. Then I decided to have the baby, and Ryan’ sister found out, and I got a letter saying that he wanted to give up his parental rights, but it turns out he never knew my decision, and his parents forged his signature on the document that gave up his rights. So I had our son, raised him on my own and when he was three, he died of a degenerative heart condition.”

  My tone was so flat that I knew I sounded devoid of all emotion, but in that moment, I wasn’t looking for sympathy, I was just sharing facts.

  “Please tell me you’re not serious,” Brandon said, and I knew how insane the story sounded. Shit, had it not happened to me, I’d be skeptical as he was if someone told it to me.

  “Unfortunately, I’m not, and we just figured all of this out two nights ago, so I’m not surprised that Ryan did something drastic. It’s a pretty big blow to have to process something like that, and it still overtakes me sometimes, and I’ve been processing it for six years. I can’t even imagine what he’s feeling.”

  “Jesus, Harper. I had no idea.”

  I looked at him, and he was watching me with a mixture of awe and pity and despair.

  “I don’t tell a lot of people that story. You’re only the fifth person I’ve shared it with. I’m kind of private like that.”

  It was a warning and a plea that he was not to share my story with anyone else.

  He nodded slowly. “You’re also one of the strongest people I know. I mean after all that shit with your mom. Jesus. I can’t even imagine what it was like for you.”

  “It was tragic,” I said, summing it up neatly for him, because after six years, it was the only word that truly explained what my life had been like for four years. It was one tragic event after the next that I had no control over. “But I’ve had years to work through the feelings and a therapist who I keep on speed dial just in case. I’ve learned how to not let it overtake me.”

  We were silent for a few minutes, and I don’t think Brandon knew what to say.

  “Did you call Ryan’s cell?” I asked, no longer wanting to talk about me and my past.

  He nodded. “Yeah, it went straight to voicemail.”

  I took a deep breath. “He’s probably hiding out somewhere. I assume he wants to be alone. Give him some time.”

  Brandon nodded. “I suppose. So do you want to get out of here?”

  “Yeah. I’d like that.”

  “Great, grab your stuff.”

  * * *

  Brandon dropped me off at my building when we got back to the city, and all I wanted to do was crawl into bed. It was early evening, but I was exhausted – physically and emotionally.

  When I got off the elevator on my floor, I stopped short when I saw someone sitting outside my apartment and knew I’d recognize that blond head anywhere. His head was resting on his knees, but he looked up when he heard me approaching. He was still dressed in his tux from the wedding.

  “Hey,” he croaked out.

  “Hi. I was worried about you. Brandon said he tried to call you a bunch of times, but you weren’t answering your cell.”

  Ryan ran his hand back through his hair and looked up at me. “I turned it off. I couldn’t really deal with people.”

  “How did you get back to the city?”

  We’d been his ride out to Monterey, and he was supposed to return with Trish in their wedding limo, so I knew he didn’t have a car.

  “I got a rental car. I just needed to leave, but then I realized when I got back to the city that I couldn’t go to my apartment because I told Trish she could go get her stuff this afternoon, and I know she doesn’t want to see me. I don’t have any friends in the city who weren’t at the wedding, and frankly I don’t want to have to explain myself to anyone right now.”

  I dropped my bag and sat down across the hall from him. “So you came here?”

  He nodded. “I was hoping you’d come back tonight, and I was hoping I could maybe stay here.”

  I felt my face get hot at his request. “Ryan, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  “Why not?” he asked, sounding deflated.

  “You know why.”

  “Is it because I told you I have feelings for you?”

  I shrugged, but it was as good as a confirmation.

  “I won’t try anything,” he promised. “I just need a place to stay.”

  I took a deep breath. I so badly wanted him to come inside and stay forever, but it was so completely the wrong time. He’d just called off his wedding and left his bride practically at the altar. He was nowhere near ready to jump into a relationship, and I was no rebound girl.

  “Can’t you go to Brandon’s? He’s headed out to Sonoma for a few days. Or to a hotel?”

  He looked up at me in surprise, as if he hadn’t expected me to reject him. And it sort of broke my heart. On one hand I wanted to jump into his arms, but the logical part of my brain kept me safely seated on my side of the hallway.

  “Yeah, I guess I can check into a hotel, but I sort of thought you had feelings for me too?”

  I sucked in a breath. “Ryan, I barely know you. Reconnecting has been great, but we’ve hung out three times. You don’t even know me.”

  I was lying, but I didn’t know how else to handle him. I couldn’t come right out and tell him I thought I still loved him.

  “I know you,” he insisted. “Trust me, I know you. And you didn’t answer my question.”

  He could see right through my evasive tactics.

  “Well, I’m not going to answer it. Just take some time, process what happened today, and in a few weeks, give me a call. Maybe you, me and Brandon can hang out . . . as friends.”

  “Friends,” he said flatly.

  I took a deep, steadying breath. “That’s all I can give you right now.”

  “Right now?” he asked hopefully.

  “Right now,” I repeated, not giving him anything else to work with. If he kept pushing, I might cave, and I didn’t want to do that.

  Sure, I could sleep with him, but I knew I’d regret it in the morning or in a week. Ryan needed to figure out who he was and who he wanted to be before I’d even entertain a relationship with him – that is if he wanted one once he got himself together. I was pretty sure he was feeling battered and bruised and might not have the same outlook on life once he was himself again.

  A lot had changed in eleven years, and we were both different people. Just because we’d been a great couple in high school didn’t mean we’d work as adults.

  “So, you need time?” he ventured, and I shook my head.

  “Ryan, I need you to take time to figure out what you want.”

  “I want you,” he said almost instantaneously. “I don’t need time to figure that out. I’ve never stopped wanting you.”

  I didn’t respond. I just looked away, not able to stomach the pleading look in his eyes.

  “Harper, I’ll give you time. I’ll give you whatever you want.”

  “You will?” I asked, looking back at him.

  I wanted to hug him. He’d been
so dependent on relationships for so long that I didn’t think he knew how to be alone. From what Brandon had said, he’d pretty much moved on from his ex-fiancé to his, well, now ex-fiancé. He didn’t need another girlfriend. He probably needed to be alone and be okay with it.

  “Yes, I’ll give you anything you want.”

  “Then, I want you to leave me alone,” I told him, being purposefully tough.

  His eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “But this morning when I woke up, your arm was around me.”

  I sighed. “Yes, and Brandon’s dick was poking me in the back. It didn’t mean anything. We all passed out, and I’m kind of a cuddly sleeper. Had Brandon been in front of me, my arm would have been around him, and trust me, I have no sexual feelings for him whatsoever.”

  Ryan smirked slightly. “But you have them for me?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  His smirk moved to a grin. “You didn’t have to. You might think I don’t know you anymore, that you’re so different from who you were in high school, but you’re not. I know you better that you think, and I plan to use that to my advantage.”

  “Your advantage?”

  Shit. What was he going to do?

  “Yeah,” he said smugly, getting to his feet. “I’m going to make you see that you want to be with me, Harper Connelly, because if I’m being honest with myself, you’re the only girl I’ve ever truly loved. And one day soon, you’re going to tell me you feel the same way about me.”

  Jesus. I had to literally force myself to sit on the floor, not move and not react. Who the hell makes a statement like that? Ryan Carson, that’s who. He’d always had conviction.

  Well I could have conviction too, and I was bound and determined that it wasn’t the right time for us, because the last thing I needed was to get hurt by Ryan Carson for the second time in my life. I’d been there, done that, and it had sucked to put it mildly.

  This time, if I made the decision to get back together with him, I needed to be damn sure I was protected, because getting hurt just wasn’t an option for me.

  “Just go, Ryan,” I told him, as I stood up.

  He stepped in front of me, looking down at me with such tenderness that it made my chest ache. He looked so hopeful, and then his expression got serious.