Then There Was You: New York Times Best Selling Author

by Contreras, Claire

  “Exactly.”

  “So, you saw each other at the party, had sex there, and went your separate ways?”

  “Why do you look like you’re tasting spoilt milk or something?”

  “That’s exactly how that thought of you with another man tastes in my mouth.”

  I shook my head, trying to play it off, but my heart was thumping erratically. He was jealous. Why did I like that so much? It was stupid of me, I knew it was.

  “You never answered my question yesterday,” he said.

  “Which one?”

  “Where do you see yourself in five years?”

  “I don’t know.” I leaned back in my chair and looked out the window, watching the people swarm the streets as they tried to get to work.

  “This may be your home soon,” he said.

  “Maybe.”

  “You deserve Paris.”

  I let out a laugh. “So I’ve heard.”

  “It’s the fashion capital of the world.”

  “New York isn’t that far behind it.” I raised an eyebrow.

  “But Paris, Tessa?” He got a twinkle in his eyes as they widened, like he was dreaming it for himself. “When will you get that opportunity again?”

  He was right. I was just so tired of hearing it. I’d heard it from Freddie, Celia, Dad, Mom, Grandma Joan, and Sam.

  “Are you done compartmentalizing? Can we get on our way and visit the factory now?”

  He smiled, eyes dancing as he looked at me, and stood without another word. When we were walking outside, side by side, he wrapped an arm around me and said, “Thank you for last night and this morning.”

  I looked up at him, confused. “I didn’t do anything this morning.”

  “You did.”

  “And last night? That was . . . both of us.” I struggled to find words. I was still confused.

  “You had only been with one guy,” he explained. “And last night felt like . . . it felt like, you know.”

  “Like I was still a virgin?” I whispered. He nodded, eyes wide. It was so, so odd seeing him like this. So out of character. He was Rowan, captain of the rowing team, big muscular badass that women drooled over, always walking around like he had a place in the world, but these last two days had reverted him to his awkward stage when we were teenagers. It was just weird. I didn’t know what to do with it.

  “What is wrong with you?” I stopped walking, which made him stop walking. People bumped us from either side. Rowan took me by the arm and ushered me aside.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re acting weird. Like, really weird. I don’t know what to do with it.”

  He closed his eyes and let out a breath. When he opened them, he looked sure of himself again. Like a freaking programmed robot. But I didn’t want the programmed robot. I wanted to know what the hell was happening in that brain of his. I grabbed his tie, looped it around my hand, yanked him closer to me, and kissed him hard. He groaned, his hand on my hair as he pushed me against whatever business was behind us. I heard someone holler for us to get a room and laughed into his mouth. He kissed me once more and backed away, his hungry gaze fixed on my slightly swollen lips.

  “I forgot my pen in the hotel,” he said.

  “What?” I blinked. “Your pen?”

  “It’s a really special pen.”

  “Are you saying this so we can go have sex?”

  “Really, really special pen,” he murmured, his mouth coming down on mine again, his tongue doing the sweeping thing that hit me right between the legs. I nodded against him.

  “Let’s go back and get it.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Rowan

  Our mini-work vacation was up. We rode back home in mostly silence. It helped that Tessa was asleep half the time. It helped because it gave me time to think. To compartmentalize. To figuratively bash my head against the steering wheel as I drove while stealing glances of her sleeping form, the way I had done the last two nights. Like a creeper, basically. The deal was that I was freaking out. I never freaked out. Ever. I was calm, cool, collected. I did not bleed, for God’s sake. I wasn’t about to start. I took a breath and kept my eyes on the road. I didn’t like feeling off-kilter. I’d felt it before, sure. Tessa seemed to be at the center of things every time I felt this way. It wasn’t that I didn’t like it, but I didn’t know how to handle it. And honestly, as far as things went, this was horrific timing for me to try to even fathom bleeding. I shook the thought away. I really needed to stop thinking about blood like I was a fucking vampire or something.

  “Where do you see yourself in five years?” Her voice startled me.

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know? You?” She scoffed. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Where do you see me in five years?”

  She tilted her head slightly, her lips pursing in a way that made me want to reach over and kiss her senseless. I looked back at the road ahead. Focus, Rowan. Focus.

  “You’ll be CEO of Hawthorne. You’ll definitely have another location since you barely fit in the current one, maybe in New York? It’s close enough, and it really is considered one of the fashion capitals of the world.”

  I shook my head, smiling. “Paris is still number one.”

  “Well, I don’t think you’re going to pick up and move to Paris.”

  “We have a headquarters in London.”

  “That’s right,” she said, as if the memory was coming back to her. “Your mom’s. Is it still running?”

  “It will be. Soon enough.”

  “Will you take over that as well?”

  “I’ll have to.”

  “Wow. Was that already in the works or is it also because of the divorce?”

  “Yeah. They want to give me the company,” I said. My heart clenched as if bracing for impact. “I guess the divorce isn’t good for business.”

  “Not with the brand they’ve built.” She rolled her eyes, smiling. She was right. My parents built this whole family-run company with the concept and selling point that family is the thread that holds people together. Cheesy and obviously unfit for us.

  “They want me to get married.”

  She looked stricken. "To whom?”

  “Anyone. I don’t think they really care.” Heat traveled down my spine. I scratched the back of my neck. “I mean, they care because there are a lot of specifics.”

  “Get married for what?”

  “The family thing,” I said. “You know.”

  “Wow.” She blinked and then opened her eyes wide. “You’re serious.”

  “Unfortunately.”

  “You don’t even believe in love. How are you supposed to believe in marriage?”

  “I don’t have to believe in love or marriage. I just have to do it.” I felt my jaw twitch and rubbed it, hoping the action would take away some of the ache I was feeling, but the ache was everywhere, in my jaw, the center of my chest, burning me from the inside out. I wasn’t sure there was any solution to that, and seeing the way Tessa was reacting to this news wasn’t making it any better.

  “How?” She blinked a few times, as if trying to see me better. “I just . . . how?"

  “It’s a contract. I’d sign it like every other contract I sign, with the knowledge that I can always get out of it.”

  She folded her arms in front of her and looked out the window. We were two blocks away from her house, so I didn’t push it. I didn’t know what I would say to her anyway.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  She didn’t allow me to carry her bag for her, but I followed her to the door nonetheless. I didn’t want this to end just yet. I wished I could find the words to say that, but she was visibly upset at me and I wasn’t sure I could handle her throwing more things in my face right now.

  “Thank you for coming with me.”

  She nodded as she unlocked the door. Nodded. Yeah, there was no chance I’d just leave right now. She walked inside, let go of the duffel bag and stoo
d in the doorway, guarding it like Alfred in Batman, not quite trusting to let anyone in. It bothered me that the anyone was me. We had a perfectly enjoyable trip in every way imaginable. I knew the marriage thing probably came as a shock to her, but I didn’t think she’d be angry about it. I felt myself frown.

  “You’re mad at me.”

  “I’m not.” She lifted her face as she looked away briefly. “I’m disappointed. Though, I’m not sure why.”

  “Because you don’t want me to get married.” It was an obvious statement. I hadn’t expected her face to crumble with it. Instantly, I wished I could take it back.

  “I don’t want you to get married for those reasons.”

  “It’s just a contract.”

  “So you say.”

  “I’m not built for relationships, Tess. You know that better than anyone.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Because you’re afraid. If you do this, you really are going to end up like your parents. You’re going to end up in a loveless marriage, and then you’ll have to have kids with someone you don’t love and . . .” She shook her head and exhaled, seemingly to catch her breath. I couldn’t think of what to say, so I stayed quiet.

  “Just say it. You’re afraid.” She was pushing, reaching. I sighed, running a hand through my hair.

  “I’m not afraid of anything.”

  She shook her head, clear disappointment in her eyes. “Then there’s nothing to talk about. I’ll see you tomorrow morning in the office.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay.”

  I hesitated. Then, she shut the door in my face.

  * * *

  I couldn’t breathe. I woke in the middle of the night, clutching my chest, willing my breath to settle into my lungs. I’d joked with Tessa the other night, saying that she may kill me, but I hadn’t intended on it actually happening. Telling her about the contract definitely did not go as planned. What was worse was that the entire time I was telling her about it, I had the question on the tip of my tongue. Maybe asking her would solve the issue. It would mean that at least I’d be stuck with somebody of my choosing. I’d have the most beautiful woman on my arm at every gala and every function we’d be required to attend on behalf of the company.

  We’d take trips together and turn them into mini-honeymoons. I could picture my life with her. I’d told her it was just a contract, and it would be, but it would be a contract with somebody I actually enjoyed spending time with. I batted the thoughts aside. It was useless. Having her sign a contract would mean trapping her and ignoring the one thing she said she didn’t want. She didn’t want to be stuck here. She wanted to leave and be free. She wanted to chase her dreams in fashion design, and while I could try to make things work in a way in which she could still do that, it wouldn’t be enough. She wouldn’t have the dream apprenticeship and eventually, little by little, she would start giving up tiny dreams until there were none left.

  Reality settled in slowly, uncomfortably wedging its way under my breastbone, making its space right beside the possibility of what could be if things weren’t already set in stone. If life wasn’t dead-set on making it impossible for her and me to be together. I went back to bed and tossed and turned for another half hour before waking again and making my way to the bathroom, my chest squeezing tighter than before and breath barely escaping my lungs. I held on to the edge of the counter and focused on my intake of breath, deep and steady. If this was how I felt because I wasn’t sleeping beside her, I didn’t want to think about how great the loss would be when she walked away this time. I glanced up and looked at my reflection in the mirror.

  Pale.

  Drawn.

  Desperate.

  I needed to get ahold of myself, get a grip and go back to sleep. Maybe she’d pick the apprenticeship in New York. Maybe she’d stay close to home, close to me, and this wouldn’t have to end.

  My mind went back to my previous thoughts, the ones I thought I’d talked myself out of already. Maybe . . . maybe I could figure out a different way to bring up the stupid marriage certificate I needed and the pretend wife that would need to be by my side during some of the company launches. No one would understand it better than she would. Tessa knew me on another level, one that no one else had reached. Surely, I could make her understand why I needed to do this.

  And then what? She’d agree to be your wife and play house with you, all the while knowing you’d never tell her you love her, never let her feel how much you need her?

  I pounded my fist on the sink and cursed. She deserved better than that. She deserved Paris.

  With that thought, I washed my face and went back to bed a third time.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Tessa

  I didn’t know why this bothered me. I didn’t believe in marriage at all, but for some reason, talking about it like it was a contract and not a sacrament made me feel a little sick. And his whole stance on relationships? It was bullshit. He was perfectly fine in relationships as long as he tricked himself into believing he wasn’t in one. He was loving and kind and attentive and all the things anybody could ever want in a boyfriend. He just wasn’t willing to be a boyfriend. If I pointed that out, it would only make the argument worse and more complicated, which would only rile me up more than I already was, so I went another route.

  I called my sister. Why I called her will forever be a mystery to me. Probably because, despite being the worst person ever to take relationship advice from, she was still my sister and best friend. And because midnight my time meant it was morning her time. It wasn’t odd for me to be awake in the middle of the night either, so Celia answered the phone as if I did this every day.

  “What’s up?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Hm.” She paused. I could hear the frown in her voice. “Spill it. What’s happening? Is it Rowan?”

  “What? Why would you assume that?”

  “Because every time you sound like this, it’s because he’s done something.” Another pause. “Wait. Is it the apprenticeship? Have you decided? Did you tour NYC?”

  She said it like that. N-Y-C. I sighed. “It’s Rowan.”

  “Knew it. What’d he do or not do now?”

  “Well, for starters, he did me.” I covered my face with my free hand. “That sounds so weird.”

  “Oh shit,” she gasped. “Hold on one second. I’m going to step outside so I can hear you better.” I heard her heels clicking against the floor, a door open and close, and her breath huffed into the line. “Talk to me.”

  “Well, we went to New York on a business trip, right, and it went really well. We talked about hooking up while I was home—”

  “Wait a minute. You discussed hooking up?”

  “Yeah.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “I know.”

  “Only Rowan, dude.”

  “I know. I think he was just afraid that we’d hook up and go our separate ways again and I’d hate him because of it. Who knows?” I shrugged at my own thoughts.

  “He’s so . . . particular. Did he also discuss what kind of condoms he uses with you or was that left off the check list?”

  I bit my lip. I didn’t need a mirror to tell you my face was the color of a tomato.

  “Oh my god, Tessa, tell me you used a condom.”

  “I’m on the pill.” I rolled my eyes.

  “You are the worst pill taker in the history of pill taking,” she said. “You can’t even remember to take your vitamins!”

  “I’m fine. Chill out.”

  “I hope you know what you’re doing,” she said and proceeded to pray to some saint.

  “You aren’t even Catholic.”

  “In times like these, I pull from all religions.”

  I scoffed. “Stop it.”

  “Okay. I’m done being dramatic. What happened after you had sex?”

  I launched into everything, starting at the cocktail party and ending with him telling me he needed to get married if he wanted to take over the company. When I finished,
I was met with silence. “Celia?”

  “Yeah, I’m here, I just . . . that’s a lot to take in.”

  “I know.”

  “You can’t do this for him, Tess,” she whispered after a while. “I know you’ve always had a thing for him and you want to save the world and everyone in it, but that isn’t your job. You need to live your life too.”

  “He didn’t ask me to help him. He didn’t even hint at me playing the role of fake wife.”

  “But it bothers you to think about someone else doing it?”

  I shrugged in the dark. Obviously, it bothered me. I was calling her about it in the middle of the night. “I guess.”

  “Don’t do anything stupid. If you get stuck there, you’ll resent yourself and you’ll end up resenting him. I think Rowan knows that.”

  “I don’t know that I would resent him.”

  “You would. Look at Mom. Look at Grandma Joan. Look at every single woman you’ve ever met who was forced to give up a part of herself at one point in her life for a man.”

  “So, basically all women,” I said. “We all give up something.”

  She paused. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Still, you’re too young to do that right now. He isn’t your responsibility, and you know he’d make an awful husband. He doesn’t know the first thing about love.”

  I wanted to argue with her. I wanted to tell her she was wrong and that the statement wasn’t true. Rowan was kindhearted and thoughtful. He could make a great husband if he wanted to. But that was where the problem lay. He didn’t want to, and I wasn’t sure that would ever change. The doorbell rang before I got the chance to say anything at all. I sat up quickly.

  “Was that the doorbell?”

  “Yeah.” I got out of bed, slid my feet into my fuzzy sandals, and made my way downstairs. “Don’t hang up,” I whispered to my sister.