“Follow me,” she says mostly to herself. “Stefan is waiting for you in the reading room.”
***
For years, I imagined this moment, standing in a room alone with Stefan and each time, I picture my fist ramming into his face. Never did I imagine that I would be drinking a glass of his scotch in the same reading room that he told my mother to leave. The interior of the room hasn’t changed much with the exception of the number of books overflowing from Stefan’s shelves.
I watch as Stefan paces the room glancing up at me a couple of times between his sips of scotch.
“I want you to stay here with us,” he finally says, placing his glass on a nearby table. “There are more than enough rooms in the house. You can stay as long as you want, and if you decide to stay, I’ll pay for you to go back to school. You can even study art if you agree to at least minor in business.”
The words come rushing out of Stefan’s mouth so fast that my head feels like it’s spinning. I feel a tight pull in my chest. He’ll pay for me to go back to school? It never occurred to me to even try to go to college and study art. Although it would help my technique to study around other artists, I just can’t see myself being another gray suit in New York with a degree that I allow to go to my head.
“Why are you doing this?” I ask.
“I want to help you.”
I practically laugh in his face at his words. Help me? Never in my wildest dreams would I ever imagine someone wanting to help me in this city. There’s a reason why you hear about decomposing bodies being found weeks later in apartments—you’re practically non-existent here. What’s one less person in a gritty world of money, sex, and lies? Nothing. The only thing he owes me is an explanation of why he screwed my mother over.
“If you think you’re going to make up for what you did to my mother, forget it. I don’t want anything from you.”
“Let me help you.”
“Why?” I ask.
He looks me over once more as if trying to find his reasoning within me. A somber look comes over him as he turns to pace the room once again. Several seconds pass because I hear his voice again, but this time, there’s a sliver of regret mixed with it.
“Because I loved her. I know you don’t think I did, but I made her leave for her sake.”
His words cut me to my deepest core. He loved her, but he never went looking for her. He never even bothered to see if she was okay. Right now, she’s sitting in some at home wondering why the hell he never loved her enough to fight for her. I don’t know what compels me to tell him, but the words tumble from my mouth before I have a chance to stop them.
“You were all she ever talked about.”
“I think of her often too.”
“Why did you tell her to leave?” I push.
“Evelyn almost found out. Your mother left me a love letter in one of my pockets and my wife found it in the washer. We have an infidelity clause in our marriage contract. I’ll lose everything if she finds out about your mother and me, including my children. They’ll hate me if they find out.”
“They deserve to know what kind of father they have.”
Even as I say the words, I know they’re not entirely true.
I watch as Stefan walks over to me and places a hand on my shoulder. My skin itches to push him off, but I don’t. Before I know it, he pulls me into an embrace. The familiar smell of Cuban cigars fill my senses and I feel something crack in the wall I’ve built between us. As much as I want to pull away, I can’t. My eyes begin to water with tears as I feel his embrace grow tighter around my shoulders. I hate him. I fucking hate him. I keep repeating the words inside my head, but when I open my eyes, I realize I’m returning his embrace.
“I regretted sending you both away the moment you left. I was just too much of a coward to do anything about it,” he says.
“Why are you telling me this?”
I step back from his embrace needing to put as much distance as humanly possible between us.
“Because I’m trusting in the fact that you wouldn’t want to ruin Emily or her brother’s lives by saying something.”
“So you brought me here to pay me off?” I ask.
“If you want money, I’ll write you a check right now, but I’m offering you a chance to become part of this family. You were an important part of it once…”
“I have to think about it.”
He nods with a hopeful look and a smile that daubs his face.
TEN
TRISTAN
Tonight, I did the one thing I thought I would never do—I broke. In the four years that have gone by, not once have I cried over the shit storm my life brought. There were plenty of times where I felt myself being tested. When I wasn’t looking for work, I was trying not to starve. Or I was trying not to drown in the surmounting amount of debt we had incurred over the years of taking my mother to the ER when she took to the bottle too hard.
These thoughts continually plague my mind as we gather for dinner in the dining hall. Somehow, I’ve found myself in yet another clusterfuck, except this time I’m not sure how I’m going to walk away in one piece. As I enter the room, Stefan leads me over to a chair fixed between Nicholas and Emily. Despite my growing desire to leave, I smother my fears and sit down. Surprisingly, Alexander is absent from the table leaving the five of us to dine alone.
“Tristan, are you okay?” Emily asks, placing her hand on my forearm.
I’m tempted to tell her the truth—that part of me isn’t sure if I’ll ever be okay. My life feels like it’s constantly spiraling out of control and the only time it isn’t is when I’m at the Pleasure Chest. My time there is a peaceful escape from reality. It’s the only time I ever feel in control of what’s going on around me.
As the excitement of dinner dies down, I find myself yet again thinking about the possibility of living here with Emily and Nicholas. My thoughts are quickly disrupted by the sound of Evelyn entering the room in red high heels. I smirk at the sight of the apron draped across her Vera Wang dress. It’s an amusing sight given the fact that I doubt she’s much of a cook other than baking. She places a tray of chocolate chip cookies on the table before taking a seat directly across from me. Her gaze flickers over me before quickly returning to her husband.
“These look great, Mom.”
She swats Nicholas’s hand away from the hot tray as he tries to snatch one.
“Eat your dinner first.”
“This is my dinner,” he says as he pops a fresh cookie into his mouth.
You’re going to burn yourself,” Emily laughs.
I watch them, taking in their words and easy smiles. They’re the kind of smiles on someone who has never known what it feels like to not know where your next meal is coming from. The contrast between them and me doesn’t go unnoticed. A small part of me begins to wonder if I could actually fit back into their lives and become part of the family that I’ve desperately wanted over the years. It’s ironic that although I’m an adult now, I’ve never felt more like a child.
Stefan clears his throat drawing everyone’s attention back to the head of the oval table.
“I have something to announce,” he says.
“Sweetheart, can’t this wait until after dessert?” Evelyn asks, eyeing me with a curious but irritated gaze.
“No, it can’t.”
“Dad, please…” Nicholas says, shaking his head. “I really don’t want to see you guys duke it out over the dinner table.”
“I’m not asking your permission, so just listen.”
All eyes turn to me with interest as Stefan walks over and places his hand on my shoulder. A strange feeling comes over me as he carries on about changes that come and go in their lives. My mind tunes out his voice as I force my mind to engrave the image of Nicholas and Emily into my memories. It isn’t until I hear him say the words stay with us that I realize what he’s said.
“You’ll be happy to know that Tristan has decided to stay with us for a while.”
/>
Fuck. I told him I was thinking about it. A shocked gasp escapes Evelyn’s throat as he raises his glass to make a toast. Something tells me that he didn’t have a conversation with Emily’s mother prior to reaching this decision.
“Welcome home,” Stefan says holding his glass to mine.
ELEVEN
EMILY
It’s well past midnight and no matter how many times I count the cracks in my bedroom ceiling, I can’t seem to fall asleep. Tristan is moving in with us in the next few weeks, and the excitement of it all has me buzzing with energy. I called Ceci tonight to tell her the good news and she wouldn’t stop teasing me about what Tristan said to me at the Pearl Hotel. I hadn’t forgotten the flirtatious tone he had when he told me he was sorry he couldn’t kiss me. Every time I think of it, it sends a strange flutter in the pit of my stomach.
It’s the same feeling that scares me. Deep inside, I know I shouldn’t have feelings for Tristan. It doesn’t matter that I don’t see him the way I see Nicholas and Alexander because he’s still my family. At the least, I feel as if he’s my adopted brother.
I keep telling myself that I’m just happy to have him back in my life. In a couple of days, everything will be back to normal and having him around won’t feel like my whole world is imploding. Maybe then, I can laugh with Ceci about how silly I must be acting. That must be it.
I lie back against my sheets and close my eyes, willing myself to forget the way Tristan touched my hand. My fingers slip over my palm and I smile at the small ridges where the shattered glass broke skin. Something tells me that it’s going to leave a permanent mark.
TWELVE
TRISTAN
What the fuck am I doing? I’ve been asking myself that same question all afternoon. I feel like the shittiest son for leaving my mother in the care of someone else’s hands, but I can’t take it anymore.
The night I came home from Stefan’s Fourth of July dinner, I decided she needed more than prayers to battle her addiction. My heart squeezes at the memory of her shambling to the taxicab like a zombie this morning. I feel guilt-ridden for leaving her alone, but my presence hasn’t made things any better. In fact, I’m beginning to think, in a way, I was a crutch for her. A reason to not get up in the morning and try to start again. I’ve always been there to pick up the pieces and the messes that she’s made, but I realized I never let my mom do anything for herself because I didn’t think she was strong enough.
Sometimes, I still don’t think she is. I can’t help but wonder how much longer she has with all the damage she’s done drinking. Four years of watching her self-destruct is more than enough to last me a lifetime. Sadly, it’s only given her more time to get wrapped up in the past instead of moving forward. Seeing Stefan made me realize just how bitter I felt because of it. The world obviously isn’t sunshine and lollipops between him and me, but I’m taking everything a day at a time.
The sound of my cell phone ringing pulls me from my thoughts as I head toward the boarding zone for my destination. I curse under my breath as my prepaid cell phone lights up with the telephone number of the Magnolia Rehabilitation Center. Fuck. Did something go wrong?
At first, my mother didn’t go to the facility willingly. It wasn’t until we were on the subway train that I told her where we were headed. She was pissed that I lured her out with promises of a new bottle of liquor, but I knew it wasn’t going to be easy getting her to go.
My mother’s soft voice calls to me over the distorted line as the reception on my phone goes in and out boarding the train.
“Tristan, I don’t like it here. I want to go,” she cries into the telephone.
I’m not sure how she’s calling me when the facility strictly told me that personal calls were only allowed three times a week. I’m not going to bother thinking about the amount of money my mother is going to be in debt after this. In fact, I’m surprised the center offered the opportunity to schedule monthly payments. I left the only credit card I have on file with them, hoping that by racking up a few more commission pieces I’ll be able to pay for her treatment.
“Mom, we agreed that you would give this a chance. For yourself.”
“But I’m scared. My head hurts. Everything hurts.”
“It’ll be okay.”
“Why can’t I stay with you at the apartment?”
I don’t tell her that I’ve taken the few things we had in the apartment with me and gave the building manager our thirty days’ notice. One way or another, we’re getting her out of that shit hole. This facility is the first step.
“You promise you won’t leave me here alone?” she asks.
“I’ll be back in two weeks.”
Her voice cuts out before I have the chance to tell her about staying longer. The check-in staff working there said that she might need to stay there for sixty to ninety days before they transition her to a sober living apartment complex. It’s hard to imagine being away from her for so long, but it’s for the best. At least, I keep telling myself it is to stifle the guilt I feel in the back of my mind.
THIRTEEN
EMILY
It’s strange the way Tristan falls back into place among our lives. Like a missing puzzle piece that was just waiting to be found. Seeing him every day becomes a comforting rhythm, even when I don’t always get to talk to him. In the mornings, I wake and he’s there reading his books or painting outside in the garden. At night, studying him at the dinner table. Watching him carefully chew the colorful food on his plate. Each bite is savored and chewed as if it might be his last one. When I sleep, I find myself dreaming of him. And in my dreams, he touches my skin in soft circular motions. In my dreams, my body is his empty canvas waiting to be brought to life.
“Are you going to stare at me all day from over there?”
Tristan’s firm voice calls out to me pulling me from my daydream. I blush as he pauses painting and glances up at me with curiosity. I’ve tried to savor the hours I spend with him and to store the memories for safekeeping. Every time I’m at school, I can’t shake the anxiety that he’s going to leave again. He told my father that his presence would only be temporary until he gets back on his feet, but so far he hasn’t mentioned leaving.
“How was school?” he asks, ignoring my silence.
“It was fine.”
I walk over to the outside of my mother’s garden and sit beside the edge of the waterfall. Tristan sits transfixed by the colorful array of roses as he slowly dips his brush into a small cap of green paint. He traces a border of vines hand drawn onto the cover of his book almost giving them a 3D look.
“I hope that’s not one of my father’s,” I smile. “Don’t let him catch you because you’ll never hear the end of it.”
“This one’s mine,” he smirks and then continues tracing.
“What are you drawing?”
“Mostly florals. they’re good practice.”
He hands me the leather bound book and I slowly study the pastels painted into the leather. They’re beautiful. I turn the book to study the spine, immediately recognizing the author’s name. Byron. He kept the copy he used to read to me before bed? My heart warms at the sight of the withered sides. It looks like its seen better days.
“Is this the same copy?”
“Yes,” he says. “I took it for memories.”
I smile at his confession. It feels good to know that I’m not the only one that was affected. I started sleeping in his room after he left. I wanted to bottle up the smell of him and wrap it around me. After a few months, the smell of him was gone having disappeared entirely. Nicholas stopped talking about him. Alexander didn’t mention his strange departure, and my father avoided mentioning him or his mother entirely. The only person who brought him up occasionally was my mother.
“Do you have many memories of us?”
“Mostly of you,” he murmurs. “And a couple with Nick.”
“You guys used to play in the attic upstairs all of the time. I remember Nick never wanted
me to play with you guys.”
“Because you stole all of the attention.”
“Whose?”
“Mine.”
I hate to sound so needy, but it’s true. Every moment spent with him was time I treasured.
“Speaking of Nick, I’m going out to a party with him tonight, so we’ll probably be back late. I know you mentioned needing my help for an art project, but do you mind if it waits until morning?”
I bite my lip, hoping to hide my disappointment. I mind, but it doesn’t matter because I shouldn’t. I slip the book of poems back into Tristan’s hand and swing my backpack over my shoulder. I should probably study anyway. I’m sure I have a ton of math homework.
“No, of course not. Have fun.”
The words fall flat from my mouth. As much as I would like them to sound genuine, I know they don’t. A small smile breaks across his lips as he stares down at the book of poems.
“Why don’t you hold onto Byron for me tonight?”
I smile. “Okay.”
FOURTEEN
TRISTAN
Hot lips slide across the base of my neck as I reach for the car door. On my right shoulder, a tall brunette named Penelope leans into me. She’s an English major, but from the way her fingers move down to my belt, I’m willing to bet that she’s not the stereotypical shy bookworm. I catch a flash of her silk black thong as she hikes up her skirt and grinds against my crotch. She moans against me, and despite the awkwardness of someone else being in the car, I feel my cock harden.
“Okay, buddy, I think I’m going to move this upstairs,” Nick says, pushing off the petite dancer he was sucking face with seconds ago. I chuckle at the memory of him pointing out how he was going to enjoy testing her flexibility. She didn’t seem to have any hesitation leaving the party with us, but I guess it helps when you show up driving a hundred thousand dollar car like it’s no sweat off your brow. I was tempted to ding Stefan’s car up until the point where Nicholas said his father had recently given it to him.
Drawn to You: Volume 1: The Prequel (Millionaire's Row Book 5) Page 4