“It was a fun place. I got to travel around the East Coast.”
“Why did you leave?”
“Once my project began to take shape, I knew I had to look somewhere else. Sterling came to visit me once, and he suggested I come home. I wasn’t looking to settle in back here. Then, he stuck around for a month.
“He was so inspired and producing so many pieces that I approached a gallery about having a show for him. The response was incredible, and we just decided that I’d move back, and we’d set up our own place. As long as I’m his pimp.” I chuckle. “His words, by the way.”
“You seem to have lived a few adventures while you were away.”
“Only a few. I found the silver lining while I searched for myself. How about you?”
“I didn’t travel a lot. I visited Mom a few times in Arizona. I set up the offices in San Jose, began working on my project that didn’t take off until I sobered up and concentrated on accomplishing my dream.”
He sounds casual, and I’m not sure if he’s happy or not. I dare to ask, “Do you love your life?”
“I’m almost there. How about you?”
“Such a difficult question. I’m happy to be me. I like who I see in the mirror. There’s no more faking or hiding.”
I don’t tell him however that I hide from the guys who approach me in hopes that I’ll go out for a drink with them or be their hookup for the night.
Next, I ask something I’ve been dying to know. “Are you dating?”
“Besides you?” He winks at me. “No.”
“No, huh?” I say in disbelief.
“I won’t lie to you. I tried to date a couple of times, but it didn’t work out.”
“Why not? I mean there’s no way things couldn’t work out for you. You’re Weston Ahern. Do you know how swoony you are?”
“Swoony?” He crosses his arms and gives me an amused look. “You find me swoony, Miss Lyons?”
“Ugh, don’t let that ego get away. You know I find you handsome and dreamy. I can’t understand why it never worked out with anyone else. You’re almost thirty, and I’ve yet to meet a girl who lasted more than a week with you.”
“Once you find the love of your life, everything else seems bland in comparison” He leans forward until he’s so close to the camera that I can see his midnight eyes darken. “I didn’t recognize it right away.”
I snort.
“It took me years to come clean to you, but once I realized that I had feelings for you I didn’t see the point in dating anyone else.
“When did you know?” I twist my mouth to the side. “That you loved me.”
“When you called me to announce that you were moving to England for the summer,” he answers. “I was raging. You chose Tolstoy over me.”
I laugh with him. “That was one of best reasons to go there, but I really wanted to study abroad and avoid Denver.”
“Which I’m thankful for. God knows what would’ve happened if you hadn’t. So, how about you?”
I point at myself. “Me? What are you talking about?”
“Did you fall for me before I told you I had feelings for you?”
I press my lips together, swallowing hard. “How did we get here?”
“Where?” His brows lift questioningly.
“We’re suddenly talking about feelings. Asking questions fit for a nineth date.”
“Who have you been dating?” A frown darkens his expression.
“No one. I don’t date. I explained that when you came home. Why would I when I already know it won’t work out?”
“To answer to your question, you were the one who started this complicated quiz. I’d like to know when it was you fell for me. If you did.” His expression is hard to read. He leans back in his chair and waits.
I hesitate for a moment. This is getting too serious, too fast. “I might’ve had a crush on you since high school. How could I resist? You’re handsome and every night, you were right by my side making sure I was okay. Though, it wasn’t until we began to travel without your parents that it began to solidify.” I smile and clear my throat. “The year I spent in England. I guess we were both falling at the same time.”
“We missed some opportunities.” His mouth twitches slightly on one side. “I told you, missing opportunities leads to broken hearts.”
“I wasn’t ready. Not even when you came clean,” I declare.
“You think?” His lips purse thoughtfully.
“Wes, I was a mess. Our relationship had a flaky foundation. It couldn’t last long.”
“And now?” His face is expectant.
“It’s totally different. We’re setting a strong foundation. I’m aware that it might not work out. I know you think it will, but what if you don’t like me or I don’t like you? You could be pushing away other people because you think we’re meant to be. The good news is that we might find closure.”
“Wait, how did we get to closure?” His eyes go wide. “You’re skipping so many steps.”
“Well, if we don’t work out, you’ll be able to move on,” I simplify. “We won’t have to wonder if we were meant to be because we’ll have proof that you were on a wild goose chase.”
“That’s a little glass-half-empty, don’t you think?” he claims.
“Or full,” I correct him. “Wes, we both said that we’ve moved on from each other. I don’t think we really did. Moving on is good. Finding out that the path you were walking isn’t the right one shows growth.”
“But what if it does work out?” he says.
“Then it does, and how wonderful would that be,” I declare in a calm voice because even as I’m giving him all these reasons why it might not work, I hope that it does with all of my heart.
Nineteen
Wes
“What do you want?” I ask, hopeful and yet worried.
Having her far away makes this conversation so difficult. I hate that we’re more than a thousand miles away from each other. At least I can see her beautiful face. Fuck, how did we manage to get from how was your day to this relationship is doomed?
Yet, here we are discussing whether or not we even have a future together.
“I don’t know, Wes,” she answers after a long and painful pause.
“You don’t?” I ask, skeptically.
“Can we save that question for later? I don’t think I’m ready for it.” She sucks at her bottom lip, and what I wouldn’t give to have her next to me so I could nip it.
“We’re still on for a date?” I grasp the table, waiting for a dismissal.
“Since we’re asking questions. What if I’d never come back?” I lean on the chair, speechless. Then she poses another one that hits me right in the heart. “Would you have looked for me?”
“The answer is yes.” I relax. “Would you have wanted me to stay away?”
“I played with the idea of you coming to visit me. You promised, in your last letter.” She goes silent; her eyes wander around the room. “Then I learned that something happened to you and I chose to think that you were with someone. Engaged. Maybe married. I told myself your break from the company was because you went on a long honeymoon.”
That is something I’d do, with her. Take an entire year off to wander about with Abby. The perfect start of our life together. I never thought of her with someone else. Fuck, I’m a selfish asshole, but picturing her with someone else would be torture.
“Why would you assume something like that?” I ask intrigued.
“Because that option was better than believing the alternative—like that you left because you were sick.” She shakes her head. “I …” She swallows, and her gaze becomes distant.
“Come to me, Abby,” I repeat the words that bring her mind back to the here and now. “Where are you?”
She offers me a shy smile and a tear rolls down her cheek. She wipes it with the back of her hand. “Sorry, I just can’t fathom the thought of you being sick.”
“Hey, nothing happened to me. I’m fine. We�
�re sharing a meal and getting to know each other again.” I watch her compose herself and notice that she’s fidgeting with her quartz bracelet.
She still has it and uses it to count. Some things never change.
“To expand on my answer,” I take over the conversation. “I planned to look you up on our tenth anniversary.”
“What anniversary?” She frowns, confused.
“The anniversary of the day we met.” I shrug. “It sounds arbitrary, but at the time, it seemed like a good plan. It’d mark the three-year anniversary since you left rehab. I’d be settled. The resort would be up and running. I could come to you and say: I have my shit together now and I'm following my dreams.”
She laughs, rolling her eyes. “Sounds about right. Only Weston Ahern could come up with a plan like that.”
“But here we are. We found each other months ahead of schedule,” I say sighing. “My companies aren't quite where I want them to be, and we live in different cities.”
“And time zones,” she adds. “Just like when I was in college.”
“This is nothing like the old days,” I correct her. As much as I’m trying not to, I can’t help but think about the past. “I wish I’d reacted differently when you told me about Shaun and Corbin.”
“I’m sorry for hiding the truth,” she says. “I swore that my silence guaranteed my survival, and that you guys would hate me if you knew.”
We go silent. I feel like I’m losing her—like I just fucked up my chances. I’m not sure how to convince her that we’re worth fighting for, that we fucking belong together, that she can’t give up when I finally made it back to her.
“Abby?” I say her name, and it sounds like a question. I don’t know what I’m asking for.
Time.
Patience.
Love.
“I do want us to try,” she says without preamble. Her hand reaches for the tablet.
This woman knows what to say right when I need it. There’s our connection. This is why I love her and why she owns me.
“I’ve missed you,” she continues. “I always have. Nights are the hardest.”
“The longest,” I concede, and fuck if I don’t want to jump on a plane and fly to her.
“About the land,” I change the subject because our conversation is getting too intense. “Dad owned several acres down in Franktown. It’s near Monument and Larkspur. It needs a lot of work.”
“How many acres? I could use about a hundred,” she says, challenging me.
I smirk. “A little more than four hundred and fifty,” I respond a little too cockily.
“Wait, acres?” she asks. “You own almost five hundred acres of land by Franktown,” Abby repeats in shock. “You’re serious?”
“I wouldn’t joke about something you need, Abby,” I say.
“You’ve been sitting on those hundreds of acres while I’ve been searching endlessly? Fucking Sterling. He knows what I’ve been going through!”
“He doesn’t know, Abby,” I defend him. “If he did, I’m sure he’d have offered it, just like I’m doing right now.”
“How much do you want for this magnificent piece of land in Franktown?”
“It’s free.” I ignore her question and continue with my offer. “If you need more money for the center, we can sell a couple properties, if Mom agrees to it.”
Those properties are mine. Dad left me his assets, a substantial trust fund for Mom, and another one for Sterling. He divided the shares of the company, and I owned the majority up until last year, when Mom split the shares between Sterling and me. Then, we split the company exactly in half. I promised my mother that I wouldn’t sell the properties without consulting with her. Even though it would be for a good cause, I want to keep my word.
“I can buy the land from you,” Abby changes her attitude.
Mom and Abby need to fix their shit soon. “Do you have a problem with Linda?”
“Don’t you call her Mom?” She counters.
“I usually do, but you didn’t answer my question.”
She pretends to look at her wrist and then at me. “Hey, it’s getting late. I should go.”
Fuck, I’m losing her. “What’s going on, Abby?”
“This is too complicated.” She isn’t making any sense.
“Abby, wait. Please, can you talk to me?”
“If you’re allowed to sell the land, let me know,” she uses a tone of voice that I don’t recognize. “I’d be interested in seeing it.”
“The parcel is mine,” I clarify. “Well, it’s yours if you want it.”
“Okay.” She bobs her head once. “Why don’t you send me the address? I can go with Erika tomorrow, and we’ll make you an offer if we like it.”
“Abby, please don’t pull away from me. Is my mother going to be a problem?”
She clamps her mouth shut and stares at me.
“Mom misses you,” I say tentatively. “She misses you, but she thinks you hate her.”
“God, no. Why would I hate her?”
I shrug. “She insists that she abandoned and failed you.” Fuck, I think I’m saying this wrong. But since Abby is relaxing, I continue because I might be getting through to her.
“That’s ridiculous. She’s saved me in so many ways. I’m grateful, but in three years she’s never reached out, so I just assumed the worst.”
“That you’re not worthy of her love?
“In the beginning, yes,” she takes a deep breath. “That’s precisley what I believed.”
Abby closes her eyes, opens them, and speaks. “Actually, I believed that I wasn’t worthy of anyone’s love.”
“You are, and Mom misses you.”
“Her actions make me feel like I’m not even worthy of her time. Once she learned what happened to me, I was no longer a good person in her eyes. She wrote me off. I can only afford to care about the people who will love me no matter what. I know my truth. The rest can stay away if they’re going to judge me. What happened to me wasn’t something I asked for—I was used and tortured against my will.”
“I’m proud of you,” I tell her what I wish I’d said the day she first came out with the truth. “I admire your courage and your determination. I’m aware of what happened to you. That doesn’t mean I understand it because I didn’t live it, but I sympathize, and I’m here to support you.”
Her eyes look a little glazed. “How do you do it?”
“Do what?” I asked confused.
“You always have the perfect answer for everything.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” I disagree. “I understand because I also went through a traumatic experience. I almost lost the woman I love. It’s different from what happened to you, but I still have nightmares. Something inside me died that night. We both have scars that go deep down to our souls. That, I understand. I want to soothe yours just as I hope you’d soothe mine.”
“Your mom,” she whispers. “I just don’t know how this will work if we …”
Can’t get along, she doesn’t finish the sentence, but I’m aware of what she’s implying.
“I love her, but the relationship between the two of you shouldn’t affect ours.”
“She’s your mom,” she insists.
“You’re my Abby,” I say. “I hope that you two fix what’s broken because I know what you two mean to each other.”
“Someday I’ll talk to her,” she says, and I perceive a hint of doubt in her statement.
“You don’t have to do it on my account,” I assure her. “Now, tell me what you’d like to do on Sunday.”
“Surprise me,” she says with a challenging tone.
“You’re in for a treat,” I wink at her. “Do you want to go out for a walk?”
“Over FaceTime?”
“Why not? We have to find ways to beat the distance,” I say, picking up my stuff and heading to my office to make a few notes.
She’s going to love her Sunday.
Twenty
Abb
y
My therapist’s office is only a few blocks from my house. She uses a tiny room in her wife’s building. It’s around 10 by 10 feet, filled with a couch, bookcases, and her leather reclining chair. Since she’s so close to her own home, she doesn’t have a problem receiving patients when they have an emergency.
“Good morning, Abby,” Evelyn greets me as I arrive at her doorstep two minutes before nine.
“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.” I make my way into her office.
“I was around, and you seemed troubled. What’s going on?”
“Last night, I was on the phone with Wes. It went from a casual dinner talk to an intense conversation,” I say and take a deep breath.
“Wes is your ex-boyfriend, is that right?”
“Uh-huh. I lived with his parents for a year after my step-sister died.”
I stop myself for a moment before I lose track of the reason I came here. “We aired too much in just one night. He offered me a property for my center.”
“The quest has ended then. You have a lot,” Evelyn says cheerily.
“I wish it were that easy.” I lean back on the couch and close my eyes.
“It’s not?”
I lift my head and shake it. “Well, that’s still up for debate. The point is that because he offered it, we ended up talking about his mother.”
I slow down my pace and rehash my conversation with Wes.
“So, what you’re telling me is that you’re conflicted on accepting this gift because of his mom?”
“No, I’m not conflicted about the lot. I’m concerned about my relationship with him and in turn, with Linda.”
“Why is that?”
“Well, she never talked to me after the kidnapping.”
“Never?” Evelyn frowns.
“No.” I sigh, disappointed and hurt.
“And how does that make you feel?”
“Sad,” I say. “Angry, frustrated.”
I scrub my face with both hands trying to hold in the tears. It’s way too early to start sobbing. “I love her. Not like a mom, more like an aunt. The fun aunt I loved to travel with. She taught me how to use make up and as embarrassing as it was, she gave me the birds and bees talk. We were close.”
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