by Bella Andre
“We all do,” Suz said. “I’ve already started sketching out the architecture for software that could erase pictures like these off the Internet.”
Alec raised an eyebrow. “You can do that?”
“I can sure as heck try.”
“With you there is no try, there is only do. Internet creeps aren’t going to know what hit them once you and your soon-to-be-written software get hold of them.”
Suz grinned at Alec’s vote of confidence, then turned back to Drake. “You’re not done telling your story yet.”
Drake knew there was no point in trying to hide the truth from his brothers. “I’m painting her.”
Harry’s eyebrows went up. “Say that again.”
“The first time I set eyes on her...” None of his siblings was an artist, but they all knew what passion was. Suz for her computers. Harry for history. Alec for his planes. “I couldn’t stop myself from painting her. Even knowing better, even knowing the risks of falling too hard and caring too much. Rosa’s the muse I didn’t know I was looking for.” He shook his head. “More than a muse.” He looked each of his siblings in the eye, one at a time. “She’s it for me.”
“What about her?” Alec asked. “Does she feel the same about you?”
Drake ran a hand through his hair. “She’s been screwed over pretty bad. It’s been hard for her to trust.”
“She trusts you.” There was perfect certainty in Suz’s words. “She wouldn’t be here with you, with all of us, if she didn’t.”
“I hope so.” But Drake wanted so much more than Rosa’s trust. He wanted her heart. Wanted to know that he was as deep in her soul as she already was in his. “She’s got some big battles to fight. I’m hoping she’ll let me fight them with her, but I know there are some that are going to have to be all hers.” He went to the sink and rinsed out his mug. “Anything else she wants you to know, she’ll tell you herself.”
His siblings were silent for a few moments, each of them digesting what he’d said. Finally, Alec spoke. “When people see the paintings you’ve done of her, the art world is going to lose it. You know that, right?”
“Those paintings are private. All of them.”
Suzanne made a frustrated sound. “I know both of you have your reasons to keep your paintings of Rosa out of the public eye, but I swear I haven’t been able to stop thinking about them.” To Harry and Alec, she explained, “I saw them when I dropped in on Drake in Montauk to see if he wanted to ride here with me. They’re brilliant. Beyond, actually. And since I know you guys are thinking it, I’ll tell you they’re nothing at all like Dad’s paintings of Mom. They feel totally different—light and bright and joyous, instead of obsessive and codependent.”
“Speaking of obsessed and codependent,” Alec said, “what has Dad told you about why he suddenly wants to pass on his paintings to us?”
None of them heard the sound of boots on the wide-planked wood floor until it was too late...and their father was standing in the doorway, clearly having heard more than any of them wished he had.
“Dad.” Suz jumped up. “We didn’t hear you coming in.”
Drake had spent thirty years wary of being rejected by his father. But if he didn’t want Rosa to keep hiding out, he needed to stop hiding too. He’d told her she had it in her to start fresh, insisted that the status quo wasn’t necessarily the easier, safer way. Looked like it was time to stand by his words.
Which was why, despite the equally wary look on William Sullivan’s face, Drake walked over and gave him a hug. “It’s good to see you, Dad.”
His father’s surprise was palpable. So was that of Alec, Harry, and Suz, for that matter, as they gaped at father and son from across the room. The thing was, Drake had done enough thinking about Rosa’s messy situation with her mother that turning the mirror on himself had been unavoidable. He couldn’t expect Rosa to try to work things out with her mother if he wasn’t willing to do the same.
“I didn’t expect you all to come at the same time.”
Drake could easily hear the subtext—his father hadn’t really expected any of them to come except for Suz and maybe Harry. The five of them hadn’t been together in the Adirondacks for years. Probably because it always felt like there was a ghost hanging over them all, the paintings of their mother that were stored in the cottage a short distance behind the house a heavy weight none of them really knew how to carry.
“You want to tell us what’s going on?” Alec stood with his arms folded, looking like he wished he was anywhere but here. And clearly, putting his foot in it twice in the past half hour, first with Rosa and then with their father, hadn’t put him in an apologetic mood. If anything, it had made him more blunt.
Out of the corner of his eye, Drake could see that his sister was about to dive into the fray to try to save their father from this uncomfortable situation. But even though Alec was lacking a hell of a lot of finesse today, he was asking the question they all wanted—and needed—an answer to.
Drake caught his sister’s eye and shook his head. You can’t save him this time, Suz.
He could see how hard it was for her to wait out their father’s uncomfortable silence. I know I can’t, her eyes seemed to say, but why does it have to be this hard?
Drake had given up wishing things could be different with his dad a long time ago. But now, he wondered if he’d given up too soon without ever actually learning the whole story of what had happened between his mother and father.
“A reporter called,” his father finally replied. “When I didn’t call her back, she came here and waited until I came home from a job site. She told me she was writing a story about the thirtieth anniversary of my last painting.” His father headed for the coffee now and poured himself a cup, but set it down before drinking it. “I need something stronger than this.” He reached into an upper cupboard for a bottle of whiskey. “Anyone else?”
“I’ll take one.” Alec uncrossed his arms and finally moved toward their dad. Suz shook her head, as did Harry. Drake figured it might help loosen things up a little, so together the three of them knocked the shots back, then set the glasses on the counter.
“Thirty years.” William looked at Drake first, then Suz, then Harry, then Alec. Youngest to oldest. “How the hell did thirty years pass?”
“Did you do the interview?” Harry asked.
“No. I kicked her the hell off my property and told her to come back at her own risk. But it got me thinking. Thinking about how three decades is long enough to keep holding on to a ghost.” He poured himself another shot. “And more than long enough to screw things up with all of you.” He looked at each of them, looked more deeply than Drake could ever remember. “I hope you’ll all stay, at least for the night, all of us around the same table at the same time—” He rubbed a hand over his face. “But I understand if you’re too busy, if you need to get back to the city.”
“We’d love to stay, Dad.” Suz looked at her brothers. “Right, guys?”
“Sounds good,” Harry said.
Alec poured himself another shot before saying, “I can wait until tomorrow to get back.”
“Drake?”
“I was planning to stay. But you should know that I brought someone with me. Her name is Rosa. I’ve been painting her.” Anticipating his father’s surprise, he added, “I had to, even though she only agreed to sit for me as long as I never show the paintings to anyone.”
“I know I have no right to tell you what to do,” his father said in a grave voice that matched his expression, “but if she’s that uncomfortable with people seeing her on canvas, even if you make her all the promises in the world about keeping them for your eyes only, you’re still setting yourself up for trouble.”
“She’s already in trouble. That’s how she found me. How I found her.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“She’s on TV. A reality show. She’s famous. Really famous. Someone took pictures of her without her consent and sold them to the pre
ss. Nude pictures.” Suzanne made an angry sound in the background. “She’s spent the past week trying to find her footing again. Trying to decide exactly how she wants to deal with the situation.”
His father’s frown furrowed deep. “This morning on the job site, the radio was on. I’m pretty sure I heard about your Rosa, about the pictures. The newscasters were saying that no one in the press has heard from her since the day they hit, that she’s disappeared. Her mother was on, and she was obviously worried. More than worried. Terrified about what her daughter might have done because of the pictures. She was begging anyone with information to come forward.”
“Rosa’s been safe with me the whole time,” Drake told his father. “Actually, she’s with Oscar right now, taking him for a walk. But I hope when she gets back that she’ll be welcome here.”
“Good. I’m glad she’s safe, and of course she’s welcome here. But why doesn’t her family know where she is? Why couldn’t she at least tell them that she needed time to think about everything?”
“She would have done that if she could. But her situation—the show, the pictures, and her relationship with her mother—it’s all far more complicated than that.” And if anyone could understand complicated, Drake figured it was his father.
Just then, William’s phone buzzed in a jarring ring tone that couldn’t be ignored. “Damn it, I’ve got to get back to the job site. But I’ll be back as soon as I can to make dinner. And then—” He looked pained. “We can talk about the paintings.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
The Adirondacks felt like the polar opposite of Miami. Yes, there was sand and water, but that was where the similarities ended. Rosa had spent her whole life in the sun—but this cool air, and all the green, felt so right. Montauk had been a good temporary refuge, but somehow this was like coming home. Especially with Oscar loping along beside her, a big bear of a dog who always looked after her.
Just like his owner.
Rosa really hoped everything was going okay with Drake and his brother Alec. While it hurt to be judged so quickly—and so negatively—she knew all too well that it came with the reality TV territory. So even if she still felt the sting in the disparaging way Alec had looked at her, it wasn’t anything she hadn’t felt before.
And maybe, she told herself, it wasn’t a terrible thing for Drake to see what it would be like to go public with dating her. That it wouldn’t just be strangers judging his choices, but his closest flesh and blood. He’d worked hard to persuade her that he didn’t care what strangers thought, but she knew family was everything to him. She’d never forgive herself if she came between Drake and his family.
She’d hoped the walk would untwist her insides, but her concerns about how things were going between Drake and his brother gnawed at her gut. As if he could sense her mood, Oscar nudged her hand. She found a smile for him, especially when a duck swam to the edge of the lake and sent him barking and running toward it. Laughing as she let him tug her through the trees toward the shore, she was surprised to realize that they’d walked all the way to the edge of town.
It was straight out of a picture postcard—the bright blue sky, the lake sparkling in the sunlight, a pretty white gazebo at a waterfront park. During the past five years, Rosa had filmed all over the world and was lucky to have seen incredible beauty on nearly every continent. But nothing affected her the way this small main street on the lake did.
Summer Lake looked like the kind of place where everyone knew one another—and had one another’s backs too. Where kids grew up together jumping off the dock in summer, building snowmen in winter, and high school sweethearts became husband and wife in a sweet ceremony on the beach with everyone in town celebrating their love.
Longing settled deep as Rosa imagined what it would be like to live here. She couldn’t stop herself from spinning off into a fantasy of living in one of the lakefront cottages, stitching art in an upstairs studio at a gallery on Main Street, chatting on the sidewalk with friendly faces. Drake was in every frame of her daydream, of course. Waking up in his arms every morning. Creating with him. Dancing on the beach as the sun set. Skinny-dipping at midnight beneath the stars and making love in the lake.
Oscar shook himself, splattering her with enough water and sand to bring her back to reality. One where she was an infamous star who still needed to deal with an endless stream of naked pictures, not to mention her fractured relationship with her mother.
But even as she tried to remind herself of all the reasons her daydream could never become a reality, she couldn’t silence a voice inside her head that was saying, Why not?
All along Drake had believed she could make a change, that she was strong enough to do whatever she truly wanted. Slowly, during this week with him and Oscar, she’d started to believe too. At least, until she’d stumbled into a fresh freak-out this morning.
But she was still standing, wasn’t she? She hadn’t fallen completely apart again.
Oscar tugged her forward into town, taking her close enough to be able to read the Lakeside Stitch & Knit sign on the awning of one of the stores. Suddenly, all she wanted was to lose herself in beautiful yarn and thread. She still had a few twenty-dollar bills in her pocket and would love to add some reds and oranges to the blue and green threads she’d been playing with all week.
But she didn’t have her big sunglasses on, or with her. And even if she did, Oscar was a massive enough presence that they weren’t exactly going to go unnoticed. The odds of someone on the pretty main street discovering her were fairly high.
Yesterday, she would have turned around. Wouldn’t have dared set foot in a small-town street, let alone a yarn store. But once upon a time she’d been a strong, confident person, hadn’t she? And even if at eighteen she hadn’t truly understood the ramifications of her career choice, she’d chosen it. No one had pushed her into it, and she wouldn’t lay that blame on her mother or the network. Staying on TV for five years had also been her choice.
Only a few days ago, she hadn’t recognized the strength Drake portrayed in his paintings—had even doubted his vision of her. But as she peeled back the layers of shame about the pictures, with Drake supporting and loving her through every single step, she finally saw that her strength was still here.
She was still here.
And she was finally ready to reclaim her life. Every last piece of it, from career to family to love.
She’d start, Rosa decided, by walking into Lakeside Stitch & Knit with her head high and getting her hands on some pretty new thread. Thread that she was going to make art with. Art that she was going to stop belittling by calling it a hobby.
Funny how things could feel so unclear for so long. Until suddenly they weren’t anymore.
Rosa had hidden long enough. Not only during the past week, but by hiding who she really was all these years.
The walk she and Oscar had been taking through the woods had been slow and meandering. Now, purpose underlay her every step. Her heart was pounding hard, and she couldn’t lie and say she wasn’t scared. But she was going to push through that fear for once, rather than letting it continue to control her.
“Be a good boy while I go into this store,” she said to Oscar as she tied his leash to a lamppost right outside the store. She could have sworn he nodded at her before lapping at a bowl full of water that some nice dog lover had put outside. She gave him a pat on the head. “I won’t be too long.”
She wouldn’t have said she was cool as she walked into the store, but she wasn’t on the verge of passing out either. The moment she crossed this threshold was her fresh start. No more running. Not from strangers. Not from the press. Not from her family.
And especially not from herself.
Surrounded by shelves, bins, and baskets of yarn, a lovely gray-haired woman sat in the middle of the room on one of the very comfortable-looking chairs, knitting what looked like a cable sweater in a seafoam green yarn.
“Welcome to Lakeside Stitch and Knit. I’m Oli
ve. Can I help you find anything?”
For a moment, Rosa couldn’t find her voice. She took a deep breath and smiled at the woman. “Everything looks so beautiful. I just wanted to look around, if that’s okay.”
“More than okay.” Rosa was struck by how beautiful the woman was when she smiled. “The embroidery on your sweatshirt is exquisite. Did you do it?”
“I did, but it’s just a hob—” Rosa caught herself a split second before she downplayed her talent the way she’d just told herself she wouldn’t. “Thank you. I love to stitch. I usually work on canvas, but this was all I had.”
“May I take a closer look?” Warmth, and something that felt an awful lot like happiness, filled Rosa’s chest as the woman got up and moved closer. “You created all this with only two colors?” Olive was clearly impressed as she called out to a middle-aged woman who had just emerged from the back. “Denise, come take a look at this stunning embroidery done by—”
“Rosa.” She refused to let her voice shake. “My name is Rosa.”
“It truly is a pleasure to meet you, Rosa.”
If the other woman recognized her, she didn’t give any sign of it as she came forward with a smile and an outstretched hand. “It’s lovely to meet you, Rosa. I’m Denise.” Her eyes widened as she looked down at the embroidery on the hem of the sweatshirt. “What beautiful artistry.”
There was that word again—artist. When Drake had said it to her, Rosa hadn’t let herself believe he could actually mean it. Now, however, she wouldn’t let disbelief win again.
“Thank you.” Graciously accepting the compliment felt a little easier the second time. “Your store is wonderful.”
“My mother and I love it. We’re glad to hear that you do too.”
Rosa’s heart tugged at the perfect picture Denise and Olive seemed to make as mother and daughter co-owning such a beautiful store. Had they ever fought? Ever felt so fractured that they wondered if they’d be able to repair their relationship? Or had things always been perfect between them?