Then There Was You: New York Times Best Selling Author

by Claire Contreras

  “We’ve never really been a unit.” I wiped my mouth with my napkin and stood to refill my drink.

  “How can you say that?”

  “Because it’s what we know,” Sam said, shrugging. He took a sip of wine and set the glass down. “If anything, you taught us to fend for ourselves. Neither you nor Dad were home most of the time, and when you were, you were hidden behind separate offices, away from us.”

  “That should have made you closer,” she said.

  “It tore us apart.” I set my utensils down and lifted my glass. “You’re right, though, we should have stayed close. We should’ve figured out how to love and be loved and show support for one another like the Cosby’s or the Tanner’s or whatever other family show was babysitting us at the time.”

  “That isn’t fair,” she said. “We built a great company for you.”

  “Dad had an affair with his secretary. Had a family with her for God’s sake. How could you even talk about family like we ever had one? Was building the company worth tearing down our family?” I needed to get out of there. I hadn’t been able to breathe correctly since Tessa’s name was mentioned. We went outside and idled by the exit, an awkward silence descending over us.

  “I’m sorry that I’ve been such a failure,” Mom said, choking up.

  “You aren’t a failure, Mom. You dealt with things the only way you knew how,” Sam said. I couldn’t find it in me to argue with her.

  “Yeah, avoidance, and now look, I’m in the middle of a divorce and have two sons who don’t even know the first thing about family, and who don’t know how to care about others, even each other.” She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders trembling slightly.

  “I’ll take her home,” Sam said quietly.

  “I’ll walk with you.”

  We walked a block over, where the sidewalk was buzzing with couples and families strolling by. I glanced inside the art gallery when we walked by and wondered who they were showcasing tonight.

  “Seems like they’ve got a full house,” I said.

  “They’re showing Frederick Monte’s work today. I guess he started painting while he was overseas and it really stuck with him. Tessa’s in there documenting the whole thing for him. He wanted to come, but—”

  “Why didn’t you go?”

  Sam frowned. “We had a meeting.”

  We did have a meeting, but he didn’t have to join us for dinner. He didn’t have to offer to take Mom home. He could have excused himself and said he needed to go be with Tessa. She was having a hard time with things. I mean, she blamed herself for her parents selling the company, their divorce, and she was selling the house she loved and grew up in, and now she was acting as a stand-in for her brother? What the fuck?

  “It isn’t like she asked me to go with her,” Sam said. “I’m sure she’s fine.”

  I focused on my steps and putting air into my lungs slowly. Maybe I was reading too much into it. Maybe she didn’t want him to accompany her to this. It wasn’t like this was her thing, it was Freddie’s. I said my goodbyes to them in the parking lot and watched as Sam drove away. The minute his black Mustang disappeared from view, I turned around and headed back to the gallery.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Rowan

  I walked inside and smiled at some familiar faces before heading over to the first painting. I stood there for a long time, trying to figure out what the fuck I was looking at. I gave up and looked at the plaque beside it, my eyebrows hiking up at the price. Jesus, Freddie. Were people buying this shit? I looked around and saw a couple talking to a man, who I assumed was in charge of sales, and realized they were. I smiled. Good for him. I was still looking around when she walked into the room. My heart stopped beating.

  Even if I hadn’t known her, I wouldn’t have missed her. Couldn’t have. She wore a red dress and flowed into the room like licks of a wild fire, consuming everything in her wake. People turned their heads, conversations quieted. My heart pounded harder, louder, faster. I swallowed to rid myself of the emotion. It wasn’t something I should be feeling for my brother’s new girlfriend, regardless of who had her first. She deserved to be with someone like him, someone who’d treat her well. I shook the thought out of my head as quickly as it had formed.

  No. After all, he wasn’t here. And what she deserved was to be free. Being with him would only hold her back, hold her hostage to this town. She flipped her long, dark hair out of her face and turned her head, her gaze clashing with mine. It did nothing to calm my frantic heart. My feet moved toward her. Her lips didn’t move, but her eyes smiled as she turned and disappeared into the next room. She must have known I’d follow, and I did, craving that fire, that burn.

  She was looking at one of the paintings, head tilted and lips pursed, when I walked into the room. I wished I could hear the thoughts skipping about in that brain of hers. It didn’t surprise me that she chose to walk into the only area in the gallery that was empty. Tessa had always been like that. She sought silence in a room full of people. I loved that about her. Loved that she could be the center of attention in a room and not want it or have a fucking clue she had it at all. As I sidled up beside her, she stiffened, as if feeling the charge that lit the air between us.

  “What does the queen sprite say about this one?”

  She looked up at me, a small smile on her lips. “I like it.”

  “Just like?”

  “Did you bid on it?”

  “No.”

  “Have you bid on any of them?”

  “Not yet,” I said. “I wouldn’t bid on anything without getting the input of a professional art dealer.”

  She snorted. “You’re such a dork.”

  “You’re such a dork,” I said, bumping her with my side. She shook her head, smiling as she walked over to the next painting.

  “This is one of my favorites.”

  “It’s morbid as fuck.” The canvas might as well have been a depiction of the Red Wedding from Game of Thrones. I wasn’t even sure what I was looking at, but with all the splattered red, that was what came to mind first. Tessa laughed.

  “It’s a heel,” she said.

  “I don’t see it.”

  “Like a red-bottom heel.” She extended her arm and drew the shape of a heel.

  “Why does the floor look like it’s covered in blood?”

  “Bloody shoes, bloody heels, red bottoms,” she said, looking at me as if I were supposed to know this. I didn’t, so I tilted my head sideways and looked again.

  “Nope. Still don’t see it.”

  “That’s one of his more modern pieces. I think he was trying to showcase how much our society focuses on material things and how much they cost us. Let’s move on.” She shook her head, still smiling as she moved to the next one. We stayed quiet for a moment, staring at the stretch of canvas. It was almost entirely white but had thin black lines that made circles, the way teachers make you practice for better handwriting. She cleared her throat, but her voice still caught and came out a whisper. “This one’s mine.”

  My face whipped to look at her. She looked as if she was about to start crying, but she took a deep breath, and the storm calmed. I looked at the canvas again and at the plaque beside it. Frederick Monte. “What do you mean yours?”

  “The white canvases with the black lines,” she whispered. “I painted those. He told me to sell them, but I said no, so he asked if he could sell them under his name and give me the money.” She shrugged. I looked around the room and realized there were four, maybe five, black and whites. To be honest, they were just scribbles, but wasn’t that what abstract art was? Scribbles that made you feel. And hers made me feel pride.

  “They’re beautiful, Tess.” She glanced away to hide her reaction. I moved to stand in front of her and lifted her chin so she’d look at me. I repeated my words, needing her to know that I was seriously impressed. She blushed beautifully and pulled free from my hold. She walked toward the backdoor and pushed it open. Once the door sw
ung shut, my eyes swept the room, and like the fool I was, I followed after her, running down the stairs and walking toward the woods behind the building.

  “What happened?”

  Tessa shook her head, not facing me. I walked around and stood to block her from fleeing deeper into the forest. I reached out and tipped her chin up again until our eyes met, and hers were welling with tears.

  “It’s stupid.” She blinked, the movement making a tear trickle down her cheek and onto my thumb.

  “Tell me.”

  “I just hate being here without them. I hate selling the house and . . .” She shrugged. I dropped my hand and waited for her to continue. “It’s as if nothing matters, you know? Like we’re here one minute, and the next, we aren’t, and the world just goes on without us. We sold the company, and it’s as if no one even remembers our factory was ever there. I drove by the other day, got out, and the guard up front had changed so I couldn’t even check out the grounds. It was as if it was never mine. And they’re selling Freddie’s paintings in there, and he isn’t even here to see it. He isn’t here to experience the look on people’s faces when they finally see his art for the first time. Like it doesn’t even matter.” She shook her head, laughing a bit. “I told you it was stupid.”

  “It isn’t stupid.” I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around her, inhaling against the top of her hair, reveling in her calming lavender scent. I held her tighter. She brought her arms around me, and my heart rocked. If I died right there, in that moment, with her arms around me, I’d die happy. When was the last time I’d felt that sense of comfort? I thought about that for a moment, my mind flipping through memories and coming up short until I pulled up the last time we were together. That was the last time I felt this, and yet, I’d left. I’d broken it off and never looked back. Right then wasn’t the time for that either. It wasn’t the time to be selfish with her affection, but goddamn, I needed it like I needed my next breath.

  “I miss you,” she said against me. “I miss your stupid jokes and your stupid laugh and your stupid smile and your stupid bear hugs.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” A piece of my heart cracked, knowing that I’d missed telling her dumb jokes just to get her to smile and hugging her close like this. I chuckled at her muffled rant, relishing the feel of her against my chest. I wanted to pull back and kiss her, to hike her onto my shoulder and run off with her. The realization rocked me. My heart felt like a ton of weight had suddenly been dropped on it. I’d always wanted her, but I hadn’t realized how badly I missed her, just this with her. I reared back and looked at her. “You’re with Sam now.”

  “I’m not.” She shook her head, biting her lip as she glanced away briefly.

  “You broke up?”

  “We were never together.”

  “It was a hookup?” I almost gagged just asking the words. I didn’t want my brother to have had her in ways I hadn’t. It was wrong to feel that way, and I knew it. We’d only fooled around, but fooling around with Tessa was the equivalent of a threesome. That was the kind of high I got from her. Maybe it was why we’d never gone all the way together. The thought of giving in so completely had terrified us.

  “No,” she said. “We were never together—period.”

  “I saw you kissing by the pool.”

  She smiled, shaking her head. “Awful timing.”

  “Your tongue was in his mouth. I don’t know how that has anything to do with timing.“

  “We kissed because we had to, we had to see if we felt anything. Don’t you think it would be convenient and easy and just . . . better if I was with someone like Sam? Who didn’t drive me crazy? Who didn’t make my heart sputter out of control every time he walked into the room? Who didn’t make me think insane thoughts at night before bed or make me stay up all night thinking about his lips on mine?”

  I closed my eyes and swallowed to keep some semblance of control, but I was losing more and more of it with each second that ticked by. I breathed out, opened my eyes again, and looked at her. “Are you saying you feel that way about me?”

  “You know how I feel about you,” she whispered.

  I wanted to make her say it, but didn’t. I didn’t need her spreading more of that magic around me, making me go as crazy for her. I had to make sure we both knew this was a bad idea. A horrible idea. I needed to know we both knew it had an expiration date, but of course she knew that. It was me who needed to learn that. I’d once selfishly asked her to follow me to school and it had been a mistake. She didn’t deserve to stay here, but damn a part of me wished she would. I felt like a bastard thinking it, but it was true. I needed to stop thinking like that. Last time I’d broken things off because the jealousy would have driven me insane if she’d been mine and I knew she was someplace else, flirting with other guys. It was immature, yes, but I had never claimed otherwise. Having this opportunity with her meant the chance to right my wrongs, and I wasn’t sure I was capable of doing that and letting her go again. I swallowed my pride.

  “You’re leaving for good this time,” I said.

  “Well, yeah, at least this time we know goodbye is inevitable,” she whispered, eyes pleading, mouth parting slightly.

  “Because you’re only here for another week,” I said. She stepped closer, almost flush against me. I tightened my hands at my sides to keep from reaching out just yet, hoping she’d contradict everything I threw at her. Hoping to end this once and for all. We weren’t meant to be. We never had been; we never would be. She wanted to be free of this place, and I had ties that rivaled the roots of a white oak keeping me here. I searched her eyes. “Things will never work.”

  “You’re right. It’ll end in flames,” she responded. My balls tightened. I reached out for her, this time, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her against me.

  “I hated seeing his lips on yours.”

  “It meant nothing,” she said. “I felt nothing.”

  “What about now?” I inched closer, heart pounding.

  Her eyes shut in a sigh. “You know how I feel.”

  “I want you to tell me.”

  “Why? So you can try to mimic my emotions?” She opened her eyes, smiling softly.

  My heart tripped. I decided it was best to let her think that. Let her think that I didn’t yearn for her the way I did. Let her think I didn’t know what love felt like or what it did to a person. After all, it was what I’d said my entire life, wasn’t it? I wasn’t sure it was far from the truth, and in this moment, I didn’t care. I pulled her closer to me and bent to claim her mouth, my tongue delving in and erasing any doubt she may still have about whether I wanted her as badly as I did. I forgot about my responsibilities. Forgot about the pretend wife I was supposed to run and find and practice pretend feelings with. In this moment, my life began and ended on Tessa’s lips.

  “Let’s get out of here,” I said, pleased to see she looked as breathless as I felt.

  “Please.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Tessa

  He held my hand as we walked back to the gallery. It was a simple gesture, but it both warmed and excited me. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d held hands with anybody. Surely, in college, but I couldn’t remember. It wasn’t as if I was living it up anyway. I could count on one hand the number of dates I’d been on. It was a weird time in my life, though. We paused by the door of the gallery. Rowan glanced at me, waiting to see if I wanted to go back in. I simply shook my head, and we continued walking toward the sidewalk. It wasn’t that I couldn’t go back inside; it was that I didn’t want to. Maybe it was the way his lips felt on mine or the way he was being so attentive, but I found myself with only one thing on my mind, and that petrified me. Rowan seemed to sense this because, again, he stopped in front of a door, this time one that led to a bar.

  “You want to get a drink?”

  I looked over my shoulder and scanned the bar. It was loud and rowdy, and I had zero interest in taking part in the chaos. I glanced up at
him and shook my head softly. He smiled one of those smiles that warmed me all over, tugged my hand gently, and led me away from the bar. He walked into the grocery store, and I followed with a frown but didn’t ask any questions, I simply let him lead me into the wine aisle and then over to the cheese. For a guy who could barely make mac and cheese the last time I spent time with him, he put together a little makeshift picnic pretty damn fast. We paid and walked to his car. I smiled, looking up at him.

  “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you had this all planned out.”

  “Sometimes life hands us lemons, sometimes it hands us grapes.” He brought the bottle of red wine up with a grin. “You look like you may need some of the fermented kind.”

  I laughed a nervous laugh because I wasn’t sure where we would go from there. My stomach fluttered with possibilities. We’d messed around plenty of times during our short time together, but it was just that—messing around. We didn’t go all the way, and I still to this day couldn’t tell you why, but the moment I thought about going all the way with him, I felt like I may die, so maybe that was it all along. Maybe this crazy, intense need I felt for him held me back because I was so afraid of what would happen after. Every time we kissed or fooled around, it had felt as if he took little pieces of me, and I had been afraid that going all the way meant he’d take more than I could handle living without.

  Rowan had always driven as if the street was his own personal NASCAR arena, speeding with precision, taking every sharp turn gracefully, and only slowing when we reached residential areas. Tonight, he drove slowly and cautiously, which was a stark contradiction to my rapidly beating heart. He hadn’t said where we were going, but when we reached the hill where our parents’ houses sat, I assumed it was my big, empty house. Instead, he drove past the houses and over the curb at the end of the road. We bounced around a bit over the gravel as we headed down the hill and stopped by the rocks. Growing up, we’d jokingly call this Lover’s Lane.