Read Work of Art Online

Authors: Monica Alexander

Work of Art (15 page)

Why exactly had I done that?

Did I actually want to see him again?

I thought I did
. Even after everything that had happened between us, I wanted to see him, because in the end, regardless of what he’d done, I couldn’t hate him. I couldn’t hate him, because without him, I never would have had Tyler. And the happiness Tyler brought me outweighed any decisions a scared, eighteen year-old kid made. For all I knew, maybe Ryan regretted what he’d done – giving up me and his child, maybe he’d regretted it every day since, and maybe I shouldn’t hold it against him. Maybe it was time to forgive him.

“Brandon, there’s more to it than that,” I finally said, coming back to the conversation I was having, definitely not wanting to go into the gritty details with him.

Thankfully he didn’t ask for them.

“When did it all happen between you two?” he asked instead.

“Like eleven years ago.”

“Then leave it there. Be friends with the guy.”

I wasn’t sure I could go that far. Forgiveness was one thing, but friendship was a whole other ballgame.

“He asked me to have coffee with him.”

“I know, and he said you told him you would.”

“You talked to him about it?
About me? What, did he call you after it happened?”

What were they, gossipy girls?

“I called him to ask him about property taxes in California, and he mentioned it.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“And how did he sound?”

Jesus.
Now I was a gossipy girl. I was supposed to hate this guy. Why was I getting excited about the possibility that he was excited to have coffee with me?

“He sounded like Ryan. I don’t know. He just told me, and I said ‘cool’, and that was it.”

“Brandon, you are no help!” I chastised him.

“What do you want me to help with? You just said you have no feelings for him. Which is it?”

I don’t know!

“I don’t have feelings for him. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Don’t turn into a chick on me now,” Brandon warned.

“I’m not turning into a chick,” I fired back with enough venom in my voice that he made a noise like a cat hissing.

But right then and there, I knew that when I did meet Ryan for coffee, I needed to keep my guard up. I needed to talk to him, because all the old feelings I’d buried deep had come back the moment I saw him, but only because it would feel good to finally forgive him and put everything that had happened between us behind me. But that was it.

We were not going to be friends.
I wasn’t letting him back into my life. He didn’t deserve to know me or any part of me. He’d made his decision years ago, and that was that. I might be feeling things that didn’t make any sense, but I would in no way entertain them. I just needed closure, and then my life would go back to normal – how it was just a few days ago before I ran into Ryan. And the sooner we could have that coffee and gain that closure, the better off I’d be.

“Goodbye, Brandon. I’ll call you this weekend,” I
said quickly, anxious to end the conversation. He just laughed as I hung up on him.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Thirteen

Ryan

 

I got home late on
Thursday night and settled in front of the TV to watch the highlights from the Red Sox game. I rarely got to see them play unless they were on the west coast, but I could get the gist of how the game went from
Sports Center
. They either played well and won or played like crap and lost. It was all or nothing with the Sox.

I didn’t hear any sounds from the bedroom, so I assumed Trish was asleep. I felt guilty for not
going right in there, but I needed a break. Work had been shitty, and the day had been long. I needed some time away from people in general.

Ten minutes into
Sports Center
, I heard Trish come out of the bedroom. She took a seat tentatively on the edge of the couch, her silk robe wrapped tightly around her, and her face scrubbed of all make-up. She looked so ethereal and beautiful, and it was rare I got to see this side of her. She was usually covered up by the time she let me see her.

She sighed and ran her hand up my calf,
over my black suit pants, biting her lip as she looked at me pensively.

“What’s wrong?” I asked
softly, knowing she was contemplating telling me something. She looked so fragile.

She sighed and shook her head. “I shouldn’t even be saying anything. I’m fine.”

I muted the TV and turned my full attention to her. “No, don’t do that. We’re going to be married. We have to have honesty and open communication. Don’t shut me out.”

She watched me for a few moments as if contemplating what I was telling her and if she believed me. The whole interaction didn’t sit right with me. I
wanted her to talk to me. I hadn’t had open communication in my last relationship, and I had a feeling that was part of the reason why things ended so badly. I wouldn’t make that mistake again.

Finally
she said something. “Ever since I was a little girl, my mother told me that when I got married, my job was to be there for my husband in a support capacity and that whoever he ended up being, he would work hard to support me, so I needed to do the same and not burden him with my problems.”

I sighed
, hating how archaic that sounded. But it was something my mother would have said, so I knew she wasn’t exaggerating. “Trish, no. That’s not the kind of relationship I want with my wife.”

She shook her head “No, Ryan, you don’t understand.
That’s
how I was raised. It’s all I know. And I haven’t stopped thinking about it since lunch on Tuesday. I know you want more for me and what you said came from a good place, but it was really unexpected, and I’m not sure how to navigate through it.”

I closed my eyes, feeling like a dick. I knew I’d blindsided her with wanting to change careers. I should have thought it through before I said anything.
But then on top of it, I’d attacked her without warning about her life and her choices. It was shitty.

“See, the thing is, I feel so blessed, so fortunate and so happy that you cho
se me,” she said, putting her hand over her heart. “I’d always thought you were the most gorgeous man I’d ever known, and when your mom suggested setting us up, I didn’t think you’d go for it. I assumed I was too plain for you, too ordinary.”

“Trish. No.”

She shook her head to shush me. “You are an incredible, strong man and so handsome, and you only ever dated women who were your equal, and I knew I couldn’t compete with that, but then you picked me, and I can’t even describe how that felt. Ryan, you’ve made me so happy. So if you need me to change to make you happy, I’ll do it.”

Jesus.
What had I done? That wasn’t what I wanted at all.


Trish,” I said, taking her hand in mind. “I don’t want you to change. I made that mistake in my last relationship, and it cost me everything. I wouldn’t ask that of you.”

“But you did
ask,” she said, calling me on the carpet.

I nodded. “I know, and it was wrong of me to do that. I’m sorry.”

She sighed, long and loud. “Do you regret what happened with Courtney? That you guys broke up?”

“No,” I said quickly, because I knew it was what she needed to hear.

I truthfully wasn’t sure how I felt about my failed relationship. The wounds were still a little raw if I was being honest, but I’d never tell Trish that. In the end, Courtney and I had drifted too far apart, and as much as we were both trying to hold on to what had once kept us together, it was gone, and we had no choice but to just let go. I couldn’t forgive that she’d cheated on me. That stung, still. But I couldn’t look back and regret what had happened. We obviously weren’t meant to be together.

I pulled Trish onto my lap and wrapped my arms around her. “I don’t regret what happened last summer because it brought us together. If she hadn’t cheated on me, I wouldn’t have known how great it would be to be with you.”

She smiled and leaned for forehead against mine. “I love you, Ryan.”

I kissed her.
“Me too.”

And then I realized I needed to be honest with her. Remembering how it had felt when I learned Courtney had been unfaithful had me looking back and questioning every interaction, every conversation and wondering how much of it had been a lie. How much had she omitted or made light of or skirted around to spare my feelings? I never wanted to make Trish feel that way.

“Trish,” I said, as I kissed the spot just below her ear.

“Hmm?”

“I wasn’t honest with you on Tuesday.”

She pulled back and looked at me, and I could see the panic flooding her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“The girl who I was talking to when you were in the bathroom at lunch, she doesn’t work at the place I get my hair cut. She’s my ex-girlfriend.”

I watched Trish’s face go pale. “What do you mean?”

“No, don’t freak out. Please,” I said, as I hugged her tightly wanting her to feel safe. “We dated in high school.”

“High school?”

Now she really looked puzzled. “Yes. High school. We broke up after graduation, and I hadn’t seen her since then, but on Saturday I ran into her. It was really crazy.”

“So, did you arrange to meet her for lunch on Tuesday or something? Is that why you wanted to go to that place?”

“What? No. I had no idea she’d be there. We talked for maybe five minutes on Saturday night, and seeing her at the deli was completely by chance. But we sort of made plans to go out for coffee sometime and catch up.”

Trish tried to pull away from me, but I wouldn’t let her go. “Why are you telling me all of this?” she asked cautiously.

I sighed. “Because you know what I went through last summer, and I would hate for you to find out from someone else that I had coffee with a woman you didn’t know and didn’t tell you about it. I want you to trust me and know that this is just a friends’ thing.”

She visibly relaxed in my arms, and I think it was partially because she knew how badly I’d been hurt. There had been some instances soon after Courtney and I had ended things th
at hadn’t been pretty, and Trish had been there to see me break down, to rage and scream and throw things and even cry. She’d been there through it all.

She leaned forward then and kissed me on the mouth. “Ryan, I do trust you, and thank you for telling me. Enjoy catching up with your friend.”

“Thank you,” I said, kissing her back, hoping she’d let me make out with her a little. I was that desperate for some kind of human connection.

“Did she have all those tattoos when you dated her?” Trish asked when she pulled away from me, leaving me wanting more.

Her nose was wrinkled in distaste, and I didn’t like it. Was she judging Harper?

I shook my head. “No, she had one, but that was it.”

“Oh, well, that makes more sense. I didn’t think you’d date someone who was stupid enough to permanently tattoo things on their body. It’s sort of tacky, and what will they look like when she’s old?”

Almost instantly my insides started burning, and a protective vibe shuddered through me. “Trish, don’t go there,” I warned, and she froze, realizing she’d overstepped her bounds.

“I’m sorry,” she said instantly, the regret apparent in her tone. “I didn’t mean to insult your friend. I wasn’t thinking.”

That’s right. She hadn’t been thinking. I let my arms go slack and fall to my sides, giving her the indication that she could get up.

“Ryan, please don’t be mad,” she begged. “I’m sorry.”

But she’d done this shit be
fore, and I couldn’t stand it. For as sweet as she was, she was judgmental and elitist at times. I’d even heard her make sarcastic comments to her friends about something as small as someone who – gasp – dared to attend an event in a non-designer dress. It was catty, and we’d had many discussions about how much I disliked when she did it. But now she was insulting someone I’d cared deeply about for years, and I wouldn’t have it.

After a few seconds, she knew it was best to just let it go, so she crawled off my lap and stood up. “Are you coming to bed?”

“In a few minutes,” I said stiffly. “I want to unwind out here.”

“Okay,” she said quietly, lacing her hands together in front of her. “I really am sorry. I’ll be more careful about what I say in the future.”

I nodded, but what I wanted to tell her was that I didn’t have a problem with her saying it, it was that she was thinking it in the first place.

She started to walk toward the bedroom but stopped and turned around. “By the way, our mothers want to meet us for a late lunch on Saturday when they get to town.”

I nodded, knowing I didn’t have a choice in the matter. “Okay.”

Trish watched me for a few moments, probably wondering if I’d say anything else, but in that moment, I just wanted to tune out.

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