Contents
Also By Claudia Burgoa
Prologue
1. Hayes
2. Hayes
3. Hayes
4. Hayes
5. Blaire
6. Blaire
7. Hayes
8. Blaire
9. Hayes
10. Hayes
11. Hayes
12. Hayes
13. Blaire
14. Blaire
15. Hayes
16. Blaire
17. Blaire
18. Blaire
19. Hayes
20. Hayes
21. Blaire
22. Hayes
23. Hayes
24. Blaire
25. Blaire
26. Blaire
27. Hayes
28. Blaire
29. Hayes
30. Blaire
31. Blaire
32. Hayes
33. Blaire
34. Hayes
35. Hayes
36. Hayes
37. Blaire
38. Hayes
Epilogue
Afterword
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also By Claudia Burgoa
Copyright © 2020 by Claudia Burgoa
Cover by: By Hang Le
Edited by:
Becca Hensley Mysoor
Rebecca Barney
Julie Deaton
Kristi Falteisek
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Also By Claudia Burgoa
The Baker’s Creek Billionaire Brothers Series
* * *
Loved You Once
A Moment Like You
Defying Our Forever
* * *
Standalones
* * *
Wrong Text, Right Love
Us After You
Once Upon a Holiday
Someday, Somehow
Chasing Fireflies
Something Like Hate
Then He Happened
Maybe Later
My One Despair
My One Regret
Found
Fervent
Flawed
Until I Fall
Finding My Reason
Christmas in Kentbury
* * *
Chaotic Love Duet
Begin with You
Back to You
* * *
Unexpected Series
Uncharted
Uncut
Undefeated
Unlike Any Other
Decker the Halls
For my amazing, loving, and talented children,
Paulina, Andie, and Sebastien.
May you always find a happy moment during the day.
“Life isn’t meant to be lived perfectly…but merely to be LIVED. Boldly, wildly, beautifully, uncertainly, imperfectly, magically LIVED.” ― Mandy Hale
Prologue
Blaire
The Aldridge brothers are like a force of nature. They’re like volcanic lightning, fire tornados, bismuth crystals, nacreous clouds, or typhoons echoing through lost caverns. They’re passionate and chaotic. They carry the strength and wisdom of redwood forests and the pride and anger of minor gods. Am I giving them too much credit by painting them to be larger than life?
…Perhaps.
It’s all about perspective. Some people compare them to a nuclear meltdown.
To say they’re interesting is an understatement. The Aldridge brothers are handsome, arrogant, and sinful.
Henry, the hotel mogul, is callous.
Hayes, the doctor, is handsome, nerdy, and detached.
Pierce, the lawyer, is an unrelenting know-it-all.
Mills, the hockey player, is reckless.
Vance, the former Delta Force member, is impulsive.
Beacon, the heartthrob musician, is rebellious.
Make sure to add as fuck to each of them. They all have an alpha side that’s infuriating,
I haven’t heard from them since their brother, Carter, died. Until their father died two weeks ago and they came barging back into my life. Am I ready to face my past?
I don’t know. All I care about is what I’ll get at the end of this deal. This will be like walking through a rose field under a volcanic eruption. Once I cross the bridge into their world, there’s no going back.
One
Hayes
“I didn’t think I’d catch you tonight,” Mom says when I answer the phone. “Are you still working at the hospital? Maybe you should quit and just focus on your practice.”
Obviously, distance doesn’t matter. A mother’s nagging is just one phone call away. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to fight the pounding headache that this conversation creates. We don’t speak often so I let it go and just listen. It’s nothing a pair of painkillers won’t fix once I hang up with Mom, but as she keeps talking, the pounding grows louder. I fight back a groan.
Today has been a long day. I’m tired after the back to back surgeries and almost half asleep. The accident on Highway 5 this morning brought in multiple patients who needed bones reset, consultations, and a couple of amputations. Fuck, I thought being an orthopedic surgeon would be easy, but when things like that happen, it makes me rethink my career.
“I spoke with Hilda Jennings,” Mom says on the other side of the phone.
Walking to the kitchen, I grab a tumbler glass and head to my home office where I have my whiskey. I pour two fingers and take a gulp. I remind myself that there’s an ocean between us, and she’s trying her best to be a part of my life in her own way.
“Sorry, I was working at the hospital, and I had to stay longer than I thought,” I apologize, before she lectures me that I canceled my date a couple of days ago.
“Well, her daughter is waiting to hear from you to reschedule,” she says. “She’s a fashion designer, beautiful and smart, too. You two have a lot in common.”
What can I possibly have in common with a fashion designer? I think the comic book author she introduced me to last year was more my speed, and yet, we didn’t connect.
“I’m sure she’s a nice young lady that comes from a great family,” I say in a high-pitched voice that sounds nothing like her, but I try my best.
I hold the laugh when she grunts, “You’re not funny, Hayes.”
“You love me, Mom.”
“Well, I really think she is who you need i
n your life,” she insists.
Obviously, she doesn’t understand who and what I need, or she’d be leaving this alone—me alone.
“Mom, just let me be,” I request for the millionth time.
“I just don’t understand you. There’s nothing wrong with the women I set you up with. Is there?”
“I’ve never complained about them, have I?” I reply with a question of my own, hoping she’ll get tired.
“You never called them back either,” she says. “What was wrong with Paula Sinclair?”
“Which one was that one?” I swear I don’t keep track of them.
They all looked about the same: light hair, slender, beautiful on the outside, but I’m not interested in getting to know them.
“Hayes, I’m doing this because I love you. Every woman I set you up with has a career, a bright future, and is lovely. Why not take a leap and try to find your happiness?”
“Sounds like you screen them well before giving me their contact information. Have you thought about coming out of retirement and starting a matchmaking company?” I try not to sound sarcastic but fail miserably. “You should stop setting me up and profit from it.”
“You’re thirty-five and still single.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being single, Mom,” I insist, pouring myself another two fingers of whiskey.
If this conversation continues the way it always does, I’m going to be drunk soon and nursing a hangover for the rest of the weekend. I’m glad my next shift at the hospital isn’t until Sunday afternoon.
I admit, the social piece of my life is a little pathetic. But dating some socialite from San Francisco won’t fix it—it might make everything worse.
“You’re alone,” she says with a sad voice.
“Oh, Mom.”
What else can I say?
I understand she wants me to be happy, but she has to stop emailing me numbers, descriptions, and pictures of all her friends’ single daughters, insisting I take them out for dinner and get to know them.
Humoring her isn’t hard; I take them out for dinner, but nothing goes beyond a second date. Don’t get me wrong, the women she’s introduced me to are beautiful, but they’re all hoping to be the one who’ll get a ring. I’m not in the market to settle down—ever.
Several times I’ve been close to reminding her that settling down and being part of a couple isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be. I don’t want to bring up memories of our past. Her first marriage—to my father—was a joke. A complete and utter fucking joke. They divorced when I was only seven.
That’s when she found out that my father had never been faithful to her and that the philanderer had more children than just my brother, Carter, and me.
“Just think about it. Your life is work and nothing else,” she says with a yawn.
“You should go to bed Mom,” I suggest, but then I check the clock I have on my bookcase with the time in Sweden, and it’s six in the morning. “Actually, why are you awake so early? It’s Saturday.”
Mom met Lars, her husband, seven years ago at a conference. They dated for two years, and one day, she announced that she was going to retire and move to Sweden with him. Maybe that’s what’ll happen to me in twenty or thirty years. I’ll find a woman to settle in with who already has grown children.
One thing is for sure, I’m not going to be like my father. A man who can't love anyone but himself. I won’t bring children into this world who I'll neglect because I’m incapable of love. My father never cared about my mother or the women he screwed. He’s never cared about his sons.
Some nights I wonder if he ever cared about us. Why wasn’t Mom enough … or us?
“I set my alarm clock to make sure I caught you before you headed to bed,” she answers. “I was hoping you wouldn’t be at work at ten o’clock on a Friday. Shouldn’t you be out on a date or at least with your friends? You have those, right?”
I can’t help but chuckle. “I’m not a hermit, Mom.”
Telling her that my friends are spending their weekend with their families will give her another excuse to set me up on another not so blind date.
“We weren’t the best example,” she continues.
“What’s that?” I ask, confused.
“Your dad with his string of mistresses and girlfriends, and I … well, it wasn’t that I was alone. I dated after the divorce, just no one was good enough to introduce to you and Carter,” she explains. “Still, I tried to find love, you know—it didn’t happen until Lars. He makes me happy. You should try searching for the person you can spend the rest of your life with. It’s fun.”
“Sounds exhausting,” I say.
“Not if you do it right. At least I hope you’re having sex, Hayes.”
“And we’re getting too personal,” I complain.
“Sexual activity is important for a man your age,” she insists. “You have to get out there and at least have fun with the women you meet.”
Is she for real? I’m not sure if this is a European thing, or if she just doesn’t care about the lines she’s crossing. Mothers shouldn’t be meddling in their children dating lives—or their sexual lives either.
“Yeah, I promise to go out more often,” I say, instead of telling her that I don’t have time to waste on dates that won’t lead to anything else than an emotionless fuck.
She said it, I’m thirty-five. Too old to be fucking around.
“In the meantime, why don’t you reach out to your brothers?”
My mother asking me about my father’s bastards confuses me.
“Look, we might share the same DNA from William’s side, but we are strangers,” I remind her. “You’re the one who tried to force us to become a family.”
“Because you guys are brothers.”
I don’t get why mom keeps pushing this relationship. When your partner cheats and you find out they have other offspring, you don’t try to create a family. Do you?
It might’ve been her upbringing. She was born in Mexico City, the youngest of five. They still get together to celebrate my grandparents’ birthdays, their anniversary, and everything in between. They’re close, even when they don’t all live in the city.
“At one time, the seven of you were close. Until…” her voice lowers.
Until Carter, my baby brother, died. She doesn’t finish, and I don’t say it out loud either. It’s been twelve long years since we lost him. There’s a picture of him on my bookcase. His senior portrait. There are a few more of all the Aldridge brothers. Henry, the oldest, Pierce, Mills, Carter, Vance, and Beacon.
I touch the one with Carter and his best friend, Blaire.
My Blaire.
My stardust.
My best everything.
I trace her fine features with my finger. She’s not petite, but at five foot four, she’s almost a foot shorter than me. In this picture, she looks fragile, but she’s so fucking strong. Her big ice blue eyes stare back at me with so much love. Those were the last days we spent together. It was right before I left for Baltimore.
Before we … before it was over.
Knives carve my insides. The loss of what we had, what we dreamt. A thousand wishes lost forever. I rub my chest, missing my heart. It’s been gone for years. Twelve years to be exact.
Every time I have to amputate a limb from one of my patients, I explain about the phantom pains they may have. Their arm might not be there, but for some unknown reason, the twinges, the hurt still happens—and it’s normal after the loss of a part of the body.
They might not think I understand them, but I do. I feel those twinges daily, ever since I removed her from my life, and she took my heart with her. This picture isn’t the only one I have of her, but it’s the only one I allow myself to see.
Everything I have of hers is in a box, locked, because I can’t seem to be able to forget her. In the past couple of years, I’ve been tempted to look for her. I went as far as calling her old number, but it’s no longer hers. I tur
n the portrait around, because, today, the reality of not having her hurts too deep to withstand.
Walking to the floor-to-ceiling window, I stare at the dark horizon. The lights illuminate the city, even the bay. There’s not one star in the sky, but I know they are there. Just like I know my past still exists, and she is somewhere in the country or the world. At least that’s what I hope.
Blaire Wilson stole my heart the day we met, and her memory makes it impossible to fall in love with anyone. Perhaps it is the fact that I can’t stop loving her.
“Give Dorothy a chance,” Mom insists.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her the name isn’t appealing. It just makes me want to ask where Toto is and whether or not she’ll be asking me to join her on the search for the Wizard? I refrain, or she’ll lecture me for not taking her seriously.
“Mom, I like my life the way it is,” I explain, as calmly as I can. Ignoring the memories that unleash each time I see Blaire’s picture.
Maybe that’s why I have it there, to punish myself for losing the best thing that ever happened to me. I fell to pieces after what I did to us, but when she chose him I … it still hurts like hell to think about it.
“My work is too demanding to think about having a family,” I explain trying not to sound ungrateful. Mom doesn’t like to talk about the past, Carter’s last days, and bringing up Blaire … well that’s just opening Pandora’s box. “But if I change my mind, I’ll find the right person on my own.”
Loved You Once Page 1