by Lisa Cardiff
Bre’s eyes followed her mother as she walked down the hallway to her bedroom. Strange enough, Bre felt the urge to laugh. Even when something as monumental as a death in the family happened, her mother twisted the situation to be about her and how she was wronged. She would never change.
“Bre, are you okay?” Jax said, grabbing her hand.
“Yes.” She took in a deep breath and released it. “Sorry about that. She’s a piece of work.”
“Nobody’s family is perfect. My dad is a self-absorbed workaholic who hardly bothered with me or my mother, and my mother, well, I love her, but I can’t help but feel as though she’s wasted her life staying married to my father. They don’t even acknowledge each other in public. It’s dysfunctional to the extreme.”
“Well, at least you know your father. My mother won’t give me a name or a picture or one single bit of information about him.” The minute the words fell out of her mouth, she wanted to recall them. She hated to admit those facts to anyone. Not knowing her father made her feel small and inadequate. Sensing Jax watching her, she studied her bare feet, unable to deal with his scrutiny.
Without warning, he wrapped his arms around her. “Bre, that sucks. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” Bre said softly, her face buried in Jax’s chest, his embrace warm and comforting. She loved the way he smelled, the way he felt.
“Then don’t. We can focus on completely superficial things for the rest of the day if that makes you happy.”
She opened her eyes and saw Jax looking down at her with an unfathomable expression, his eyes burning into hers. “When do you leave?” she asked.
“I bought a one-way ticket, so I can leave today or stay a few more days if you need some help. It’s up to you.”
Bre’s heart started beating faster. She wanted him to stay, but somewhere in the back of her mind, she acknowledged that it wasn’t a good idea. “Are you sure you don’t have to go back to LA? Don’t you have a performance or something?”
“Nope. Not until Saturday night. So I can go home tomorrow or early Saturday morning, whatever you want.”
“I’d love you to stay one more day if you’re okay with it.”
“I’m more than okay spending more time here. What do you want to do today?”
“Actually, I need to drive to Aspen to check on my grandma’s store,” Bre said, stepping out of his embrace. “It’s been closed since she had the stroke.”
“Is this the store your mom said was now yours?”
“Yep.”
“What are you going to do with it?”
“I’m not sure. It’s in a quirky old building on Main Street. She sells a bunch of trinkets and local arts and crafts. It’s a great location, but I don’t think she made much money.”
“Where did you want to work when you moved home?”
“I wanted to find a job at an art gallery.”
“Then why don’t you turn the store into an art gallery?”
“I don’t think I have enough experience. I worked in an art gallery during college, but that’s it.”
“Then find a partner who knows more and has the contacts you’re missing. I’m guessing your grandmother owned the shop free and clear, so it shouldn’t be hard to find someone who would be interested.”
Bre smiled, realizing she did know someone. “You know what? I think I just might know the right person.”
“Really?”
“Yep. The manager of the art gallery where I worked in college is dying to open his own gallery, but he doesn’t have the funds or location. He would be perfect. He’s been running that gallery for nearly ten years.”
“There you go.”
Impulsively, Bre stepped forward, pulling Jax into a quick hug. Just before she released him, she kissed him quickly on the cheek. “Thanks. I can’t wait to call Michael tonight. I bet he’ll drive up here this weekend to brainstorm with me. You’re a genius! This is going to be perfect.”
“Bre,” her mother called out, interrupting their conversation. “I can’t find my favorite jeans. Have you seen them?”
Shaking her head, Bre said, “No, but I can’t say I know what they look like, either.”
“Huh…” her mother responded as she walked into the living room dragging a bright orange travel bag.
“I guess I’ll just have to add it to my list for Charles to buy me.” She stopped at the front door, her hand braced on the door handle. “I’ll be busy the next few weeks, but call me if you need anything. And Jax, it was nice meeting you. If you’re flying out of the Denver airport, get my number from Bre, we’d be happy to let you stay at our house.”
“Thanks for the offer, but I’m flying out of Aspen.”
“Next time, then.” Without turning around, Bre’s mother raised one hand next to her head and waved.
Chapter Fifteen
The next month passed in a blur. Getting the gallery ready before winter ski season started was a necessity. Actually starting an art gallery—negotiating a partnership with Michael, remodeling her grandmother’s shop, making contacts with artists, marketing, setting up a website, and doing a thousand and one other things that she hadn’t imagined when she decided to go forward—left little time for Bre to dwell on her relationship with Cam.
Of course, starting her own business was entirely different from the life she’d led during college and graduate school. While she’d always been a serious student, starting your own business entailed so much more than studying the material and knowing about art. Unlike in school where there were right and wrong answers, starting a business didn’t provide the same black and white clarity. She constantly second guessed herself, and every time she had to make a difficult decision, she was glad Michael had agreed to be her business partner.
Michael had met her at her grandmother’s shop the day after Jax left, and by the end of the weekend, they had a deal to open the gallery together. She contributed the space and Michael agreed to invest some money for the renovation. Luckily, Sara was a fellow fine arts major and Michael agreed with Bre’s idea to hire her. Sara consented to work in exchange for commissions and free rent in the attic studio above the gallery. It was ideal.
During the last month, she’d talked to Cam a couple times a week. She didn’t bother mentioning his failure to show for her grandmother’s funeral other than to thank him for suggesting Jax go in his place. She shared details of her new art gallery, and he kept her up to date on new band gigs and their quest to be signed by a reputable label. Most of the time, she questioned whether Cam cared about the gallery or its progress. In truth, she felt as though his mind wandered when she discussed her life, and he was waiting for the moment when he could turn the conversation back to him. He’d never acted like that before he moved to LA.
She wondered whether he’d changed or if she’d changed. The only thing she knew for certain was that their relationship was becoming increasingly impersonal. They never fought. They never discussed the future of their relationship or how they would be together now that she started a business in Aspen, and he intended to stay in LA indefinitely.
She craved the closeness they’d shared as kids and even through college. She missed the physical comfort of his touch, his smell. The physical separation created more emotional distance with every day that passed, and she didn’t know if the relationship could survive much longer.
Jax, on the other hand, occupied way too many of her thoughts since he came to her grandmother’s funeral. The closeness she felt with him at the funeral didn’t fade after he left. Instead, she called him frequently for advice on the gallery, and he called her with names of promising Southern California artists. They talked about their families, and every time something exciting happened in her life, she found herself wanting to dial Jax’s number rather than Cam’s, and the confusion and guilt of that reality ate at her.
She hoped Cam’s visit to Aspen this weekend would change everything. With the loss of her grandmothe
r, she didn’t think she could handle losing Cam or her connection with his family. His family filled more than one emotional hole in her life over the years by treating her as a de facto family member.
She still smiled when she remembered the day Cam found her crying underneath the tree in her backyard on her tenth birthday. No one had planned anything for her birthday, and she felt particularly unloved. Her grandmother gave her a card with ten dollars and her mother was gone, as usual. It didn’t help that Bre had a difficult time adjusting to her first few months in Colorado. Cam told her to come over to play in an hour, and when she arrived at his house, Cam’s parents had arranged a small birthday party for her—a tradition that continued every year until she and Cam left for college.
Bre walked into the gallery after a lunch meeting with a Denver artist in town for the grand opening of her gallery that weekend. Michael and Sara helped her restore the old plank floors, add windows where permitted by the Main Street Historic District, and install lots of lighting to accentuate the artwork. Todd and Ellen came to the paint party last week, and Todd, being a perfectionist, painted most of the interior by himself. The end product exceeded her expectations, and she loved every square inch of the place.
Too bad she couldn’t spend a couple hours soaking it all in. Artwork still needed to be hung. The painters were still touching up the walls and Michael and Sara were busy screwing in light bulbs. They probably could have used a few more weeks to get ready, but this weekend was the Winternational, the annual event celebrating the opening of the area ski resort. She wanted to make a splash this weekend, with so many famous skiers and boarders in town, not to mention media attention. They had to make sure everything was ready. Waiting to open wasn’t an option.
“So what time is lover boy coming?” Michael asked as he climbed down the ladder.
“Cam’s flight lands around seven tonight,” Bre responded as she lifted a painting to hang it on the wall.
“During the two years we’ve worked together, I think I’ve only seen him once when he picked you up at the gallery to drive you home for the holidays. If not for that brief sighting of him and Ellen and Todd’s appearance at our painting party, I would be thoroughly convinced that he’s your imaginary playmate.”
“Don’t give her hard time,” Sara said, wrapping her arm over Bre’s shoulder. “You’re making her uncomfortable. Besides, I went to college with him and Bre, and he’s a really nice guy. You’ll like him.”
“Yes, I already know how great he is. The way the locals talk ad nauseam about that band of his, Total Ruin, you would think he was already a famous rock star.”
Bre laughed. “It’s Chasing Ruin, and don’t pretend as if you don’t know the name of the band. You just don’t like competition for attention.”
“Hardly,” Michael said. “How can I compete with a ghost?”
“I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out tomorrow at the opening,” Bre said. “Now get back on that ladder so we can actually leave before it gets dark.”
“Is Jax coming, too?” Sara asked.
“I don’t think so. I mentioned it to him, and I emailed him an invitation, but he didn’t commit to anything. He’s been really busy this past week. I guess the band has been negotiating with a couple labels, and as the front man, he wants to be there.”
“I thought Cam handled most of the business side of the band,” Sara responded.
“He does, but this is big, so I think he wants to be there. He’s kind of a control freak when it comes to the band.” Bre walked to the back of the gallery, trying to escape the conversation about Jax. Since he came to her grandmother’s funeral, Sara never missed an opportunity to ask about him. At first, Bre thought Sara might be interested in him, but lately she suspected Sara still questioned whether she and Jax were more than friends despite what Bre told her after the funeral.
“I still think you should have asked them to sing a song or two at our opening. We would’ve drawn a huge crowd,” Michael said.
“We talked about this. The crowd wouldn’t be there for the art. They would be there for the music. We want the opening to be about the gallery and the artists,” Bre responded.
“It sounded like fun, though, and I wouldn’t mind seeing that band in action. They looked pretty hot in those YouTube videos,” Michael said, laughing.
“Be serious, Michael,” Bre scolded, trying to keep a serious face.
“Oh, come on, Bre. You know I was never really serious about that.”
“You weren’t?”
“Absolutely not. I wanted to see if you could get lover boy to do something for you for once. You’re so persuasive when it comes to the artists and advocating for the gallery, but you let him walk all over you. You don’t question him about anything. You don’t ask him for anything.”
“That’s not true.”
“Riiiight,” he said. “Did you ever ask him why he didn’t show up for the funeral? Did you ask why he hasn’t bothered to show up since then to support you?”
Bre shook her head in disagreement. “That’s not the point. You don’t understand our relationship.”
“You’re right. I don’t. I won’t even bother to ask whether you’ve questioned him about some of the rumors floating around town about him,” Michael said, his voice soft rather than condemning.
Bre looked at Sara, but Sara avoided making eye contact, shuffling through a stack of paintings.
“Sara, do you agree with him?”
Sara sighed and turned around. “Bre, it’s not my business.”
“That’s not an answer. Tell her what you said yesterday,” Michael said, his hands folded across his chest.
Sara pushed her blonde hair out of her eyes. “Bre, you’re my best friend, and as my best friend, I want you to be happy. If Cam makes you happy, then I’m okay with him. If he hurts you, that’s when I stop being okay with him.”
“That’s not an answer. What do you think?”
“When I met you freshman year, I was enchanted by your relationship. Cam treated you as if you walked on water. You two had so many inside jokes; it was the two of you against the world. I didn’t think anyone could come between you. I remember thinking, I wouldn’t settle for anything less in a relationship. But now…” Sara looked away, adjusting her wristwatch.
“But now, what?” Bre asked, her voice shaky. It was almost as if she were watching a train wreck. Michael effectively threw all her fears in her face. She couldn’t deny that she had similar doubts, but it hurt to realize that Michael and Sara thought the same thing, and if they did, so did other people. Her whole life as she knew it was crumbling in front of her and she couldn’t stop it. She needed Cam and his family, the façade of safety they provided. She had to make this work. Cam would be here tonight, and everything would be better by the end of the weekend.
“I don’t know,” Sara said, shoving her hands in the pockets of her jeans. “I still think Cam loves you, but I don’t think you’re a priority in his life right now, and I don’t think it’s entirely one-sided, either. He used to be your everything, but now you have other people to lean on, and that’s healthy. I think the question you should be thinking about is whether your relationship can grow with you. Only you can answer that question, and if the answer is no, you need to let go before you hurt each other.”
Bre swallowed hard, trying to force her tears back inside.
“Bre,” Michael said. “We’re not saying these things to hurt you. We’re worried about you.”
She wanted to yell at them, but she couldn’t. They were right. Cam would never abandon her, but she didn’t want to be an obligation and she knew Cam didn’t want to be an obligation, either. They both deserved more than that. “Thanks for your honesty, both of you,” Bre said, looking at Sara and Michael. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m not ignoring or dismissing all the problems in our relationship. I see them, but I’m not going to throw away a long-term relationship because we’re having some problems. My mom w
alked away from every relationship when it became complicated or too much work. I don’t want to be like her. ”
“Nobody is suggesting you break up with Cam,” Michael said, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. “But you don’t have to stay with him to prove you’re not like your mom. You haven’t shared much about her, but I’ve heard enough to know she isn’t a nice person. Being like her would take decades, and I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t think you would be accepted into the training program. You’re way too nice. Besides, I heard you have to have some sort of secret handshake.”
“What are you talking about?” Bre said, shaking her head.
“The secret manipulative bitch society. They really do exist. I’ve encountered some of their members. They are fierce.” Michael responded, raising his eyebrows, his lips twitching.
An uncomfortable laugh escaped Bre’s mouth, and she wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes. “I’m not sure if that made any sense.”
“It didn’t,” Sara said.
“Doesn’t matter. You get my point,” Michael said, handing Bre a painting. “Besides, that’s enough talk about lover boy today, but after this weekend, all bets are off. I plan to give you a full report of my findings after he leaves. I’ll let you know whether or not he redeemed himself. We have to hang ten more pictures in the next hour before the cleaners get here. Now get to work.”
“Yes, sir,” Bre responded, looking around the gallery. “What are we going to do with the front corner of the east wall? We don’t have enough paintings to fill that space. We need about three more.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Michael said. “I have a surprise artist I plan to reveal tomorrow night.”
Sara chuckled under her breath.
“Are you hiding something from me?” Bre questioned, looking back and forth between Michael and Sara.