Work of Art (22 page)

“Son of a bitch,” I cursed, folding my arms in front of my chest. “I knew she was
sleeping with someone who was married back then, but I had no idea it was your dad. Ryan, I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “It’s fine. It was
more than ten years ago, and he’s apparently been faithful ever since, but I sort of hate him now for doing that to her. I’ve also been thinking about why he did it, though, and it made me wonder if he was ever happy with my mom.”

I didn’t think
Ryan’s parents had ever been happy. I’d never once seen them be affectionate with each other, and Charles Carson was about as cold as they got. And he’d actually been sleeping with my mother? I couldn’t picture it. He was at least fifteen years older than her. Weird, but if he was paying her, then I guess there was no accounting for taste.

“I mean, my dad and mom got married because their parents wanted them to,” Ryan continued. “They didn’t have an arranged marriage or anything archaic, but it was suggested that they date and get married, and they did, and I just wonder if they would have each held out for the right person, someone who made them trul
y happy and completed them, then he wouldn’t have strayed.”

“Uh, well, I’m not so sure my
mom was in love with your dad,” I told him.

He looked confused. “Why would you think that? They were together for
more than two years.”

I sighed. “She was an escort, Ryan. I just found out
when I settled her affairs, but that was how she made money after my stepfather went to prison, so your dad was most likely paying her for their relationship or whatever it was.”

“Jesus,” he hissed. “That might even be worse.”

“I’m sorry,” I apologized. “I figured you should know.”

I didn’t want to keep secrets from him.

“No, I guess it’s better that I know the truth. But I still think if he truly loved my mom, if she truly made him happy, he wouldn’t have strayed.”

I wanted to tell him that his father most likely strayed for sex, not happiness, but I didn’t think it mattered. If Ryan’s mother had been giving him everything he needed, he wouldn’t have needed to look elsewhere.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Are you thinking about your ex-fiancé?” I asked, not sure where he was going with his musings.

He shook his head. “No, I’m not. I should go. I don’t think I’m ready for this.
Maybe another time.”

S
uddenly he was up and out of the chair before I could say anything.

“Ryan,” I called after him when he
was almost out the door.

He turned around and looked at me,
and the sadness in his eyes ran so deep. And he looked exhausted. I walked toward him, closing the distance between us and wrapped my arms around his neck, hoping it would comfort him with whatever was bothering him. His arms wrapped around me and held me against his body. Neither of us said anything, and after a few minutes, he released me and stepped back.

“I’ll see you Friday night, I guess,” he said, staring down at me
as if he was in pain.

I nodded.
“Right, the rehearsal dinner. I’ll see you then,” I said, smiling widely at him as if to encourage him to let himself be happy.

And I hoped he would be
. I wanted him to be happy. Above all else, it was what he deserved.

“Bye, Harper,” he said, before turning around and walking away from me.

Chapter
Seventeen

Ryan

“Dude,” Brandon boomed into the phone as I sat at my desk working on something that was causing my eyes to close.

Work had really become exceedingly dull in the past few months, and Melinda was probably right. I was losing my edge because I could do the job with my eyes closed, so I was simply going through the rote motions and not putting in the extra effort I had for so long.

“What’s up, man?” I asked, as I continued to type figures into the spreadsheet I’d been staring at for three hours.

“I need you. There’s a problem at my new house, and I can’t get ahold of Tom or Al or Clint. I need someone to go out there and check on it.”

I had no idea who those guys were, but I assumed they were people who worked at Brandon’s new winery.

“What’s the problem?” I asked, wondering if Brandon remembered that I was not the handiest of guys when it came to home repair. I always hired someone when there was an issue.

“Plumbing,” he said. “Listen, I called a plumber, but I need someone to meet him there and stay while he works.”

“Man, I’m working.”

“Du-
ude, come on. I’d never ask you for this kind of favor if I didn’t really need your help. Come on. My house could be flooding, and I need you to help me out.”

“Fine,” I said, pushing back from my chair. It was after eight o’clock anyway, so I could feasibly leave. I didn’t need to complete the spreadsheet until the next day. I would be
back at work in the morning. “You do realize Sonoma is like an hour drive for me.”

“Yes, I realize it, and I would never call you unless it was an emergency.”

“How do you even know there’s an issue?” I questioned, realizing that someone had to have called him to alert him of the problem.

“My decorator went over there to look at something and called me.”

“Well, can’t she wait for the plumber?”

“No, she had to go to some
dance recital thing for her kid, so she couldn’t stay, so I’m begging you to please help me out.”

“Fine, I’ll do it. I’m leaving now,” I said, as I grabbed my suit jacket and shut off the light in my office.

“I had Michelle leave her key under the doormat. Call me tomorrow, and let me know how it goes. My flight’s at ten in the morning, but I’m sure you’ll be up since you’re a fucking workaholic.”

“Bite me,” I told him before I hung up
, but he was right.

Lights were on all over the office, and most people were still working, but I didn’t feel like talking to anyone, so I snuck out unnoticed.

I drove out to Sonoma in relative silence, minus the Smashing Pumpkins album I let play in the background. Ever since I’d seen Harper a few weeks earlier, I’d delved back into my old collection of music. I’d stopped listening to all the 90’s alt rock that Harper and I loved after we broke up.  And I just pretended I hated it. Courtney, my ex, was obsessed with it, which was a little ironic, but I made her turn it off whenever we were in the car together, because the truth was, it all reminded me of Harper, and that pain was deep enough that a song could take me back to moments with her that I knew I needed to let go of.

But now, after having seen her, I wanted to relive all of those moments I’d been referring to when we were talking about permanence and lasting scars. I had so many of those that I equally hated and loved. And I wanted to remember what I’d fought so long to forget.

Like how she used to sing
Disarm
to me, and she had such an awful voice. Then she’d laugh, and it was like music in and of itself. I listened to the words now, and in my head I heard her singing off-key. It made my chest ache.

And I loved it.
And I hated it.

I was getting married in two
fucking days, and I couldn’t stop thinking about someone else. Was this how Courtney had felt? Had she looked at me and seen someone she loved but not enough when compared to the guy who held her heart. Beckett was his name, and he’d met her when they were in high school, and he’d loved her and asked her to marry him, and he’d claimed her for himself long before I ever came along. I didn’t think I’d ever had a chance.

And now, was I doing t
he same thing to Trish? I was starting to think that maybe I was going to marry the wrong girl. Harper had been the love of my life, but we’d just been kids, yet we’d gone through so much together. And so much time had passed, and when I saw her now, I still had feelings of longing and want that were more than just physical. Sure she was beautiful, but she was so much more than that.

But I was getting married in three days. I’d made a commitment, and I couldn’t back
out now. I couldn’t hurt Trish like that.

As I pulled up to the house, glad I could find it in the dark, I saw there was a light on in the front room, but I didn’t see any sign of the plumber. I wondered how long he might be and grabbed my messenger bag off the front seat, figuring I could get some work done from my laptop while I waited.

I found the key under the mat and let myself in, marveling at how much the house had changed since I’d visited it with Brandon. All of the furnishings that the previous owners had were gone, and the place was sparse, minus the white couch, two end tables with lamps and the coffee table in the living room, and I felt fortunate that there was at least somewhere to sit. I would have been pissed had Brandon asked me to hang out on the floor for a couple of hours.

I’d just settled onto the couch and propped my feet up, figuring Brandon wouldn’t mind, when my cell phone rang.
I looked down to see it was Trish. She was in Monterey for the week doing all sorts of last minute wedding things with our mothers, and she called every night around the same time.

“Hey baby,” I answered
, putting her on speaker and laying the phone on my lap.

“Hi,” she gushed. “How are you? Did you have a good day?”

“Sure. I worked, and now I’m sitting in Sonoma waiting for a plumber.”

“What? Why?”

I sighed and stretched my arms over my head. “Brandon called. There’s some plumbing issue at his new winery house, and since he’s not flying in until tomorrow, he asked me to come out here and meet the plumber.”

“Brandon has winery house?”

“Uh, yeah. I thought I told you that.”

“No, you didn’t,” she said, and I felt like complete shit for omitting something
as big as my best friend moving to San Francisco.

“Yeah, he bought it
a few weeks ago, and he’s moving to the city after the wedding.”

“Oh,” she said, and I knew what that meant. She really hated Brandon, and I was sure she wasn’t thrilled about the fact that he and I would be able to hang out more.

“Yeah,” I said, talking for the sake of talking, because I felt like an absolutely jackass for not telling her. “He’d been talking about quitting his job and sinking his money into an investment, so he finally took the leap.”

“So that’s why you were talking about leaving the firm?
Because Brandon Cooper wanted to leave? What did he do, plant the idea in your head that you could have a better life if you quit your job too? Then you guys can pal around and chase women, is that it?”

She was suddenly spitting venom, and I wasn’t sure what to say. She’d never gone off on me like that before.

“Trish, calm down. He’s just a friend, and just because he likes to be loose with his social life doesn’t mean I’ll do the same. I’m marrying you, and I’m a one woman kind of guy. You know that.”

She huffed. “Yeah, well, we have a lot of things on our calendar this summer, and I need you to be at these events. I can’t have you running off with Brandon whenever the mood strikes. You have obligations to me and the organizations I support.”

Okay, she’d obviously been around
our mothers too long. And I wasn’t exactly okay with the way she was treating me like a child.

“You know what Trish, I’m a grown-ass man, and if I choose to be friends with someone you don’t like,
and hang out with him when the mood strikes, then that’s what I choose to do. I’ll be a good husband, and I’ll fulfill my social obligations, and I’ll represent my family, but I won’t be told what to do, do you hear me?”

She
sucked in a gasp of air, and it was as if she’d just heard herself and what she’d been saying. “Oh, my God, Ryan. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” she gushed, and then she started to cry. “It’s just this wedding. There are all of these last minute things, and I’m really stressed, and I’m not sleeping, and there was this problem with the flowers and our mothers are driving me crazy. I can’t do this. And I miss you, and I just wish it was Saturday so we could walk down the aisle and be married. And now I’ve made you mad, and I’m so, so sorry. Please know that it wasn’t my intention, and I love you. Please don’t be mad. I’m sorry. I don’t want to dictate who you can be friends with.”

I let
out a low, calming sigh when she finally stopped talking, but she was still sobbing in my ear.

“
It’s fine, Trish. It’s fine. I’m not mad.”

She still continued to cry.
“No, it’s not fine. I know I’ve never really liked Brandon, but I want to try, for you, because he’s your best friend. I’ll do that for you. I’ll do anything for you, just please don’t be mad at me. Please!”

“
Trisha!” I said, raising my voice, and I heard her sniffle one last time. “I’m not mad. I know you’re under a lot of pressure. I get it. It’s okay.”