Uncut (Unexpected Book 4)

by Burgoa, Claudia

  Arthur frowns and pulls out his phone. “Did Chris fire you?” I shake my head. No, he expects me to go back to work soon. But how can I just waltz into the building after the media circus they had in there? “Good, but if you’re not comfortable working for him, we can help you search for another practice. Finance your own practice. Say the word, and we’ll help you. Your loans? Taken care of. As your father I have to pay for your education.”

  “AJ and I can offer you her old house. It’s vacant,” Mason adds. “Everyone knows that you live here, so if you move there, no one will look for you and it’s close to the practice too.”

  “AJ knows?”

  “Yes, the wife just found out and she’s excited,” Mason explains, with that same glint in his eyes that appears every time he talks about her. “She’s been meaning to come over and check on you, but I didn’t want her to talk to you until Dad did.”

  “I’m not asking for much, Thea, just to let me be a part of your life.” Arthur melts my heart and now I know why he’s looked at me with that same loving expression that he uses with his granddaughter. While Matt and Mason spent days erasing every picture of me on the Internet, the man held me for hours assuring me that everything was going to be fine.

  “We’re also asking for you to become a Bradley.” Mason smiles at me. “It has a better ring to it than Dennis. Dr. Agatha Bradley.”

  That is a huge step I choose to interpret as a sign of acceptance. “Can we take it one day at a time?” I take a step forward and hug Arthur. “Thank you for all you’ve done since you found out about me.” Turning to see Mason, I make an important decision. “As long as you let me pay rent, then yes please, I’ll take you up on your offer. Thank you for . . .” I shrug.

  It’ll take some time for me to adjust to this new change. I’m not used to having a family who cares for me without demanding anything in return—other than letting them be a part of my life.

  Matt didn’t like my decision to relocate to AJ’s old house. He had this crazy plan that we should move in together. After all, in dog years we’ve been dating for five years. His nonsense logic didn’t work on me, but it was sweet. Before I move forward with him, I want to settle my relationship with my father. Also, I want him to be perfectly fine with his break up with Tristan. From my perspective, if I hadn’t been the Hollywood tramp, they’d be happy. At least as friends.

  “Everything is set.” Matt gives me a peck while I unpack my crafts.

  Moving day was hectic, but fast. We packed in less than an hour and had everything unpacked in three. Mason and Arthur coordinated everything. They brought friends and family, including the Deckers. AJ stayed behind with Gracie, but she sent over a fancy coffee maker as my housewarming gift. She said it brings good luck. I don’t care about the luck as long as it delivers coffee when I need it.

  “This is perfect.” I look at my craft room with a huge table in the middle and shelves against the wall. “Maybe I’ll never come out of here.”

  “Except for work,” Chris says, entering the room. “I expect you back on Tuesday, right?”

  “Yes, of course. Thank you for not firing me.”

  “Why should I fire you?” His dark eyebrows meet each other and his lips pucker as if he is trying to give me a stern look. It’s more like a funny face. “Because the press harassed your patients. My father . . .”

  “It’s hard to think of Martin as just some guy.” He squeezes my hand. “Maybe as hard as it is to stop calling Arthur by name and say the D word.”

  I nod. It’s been three weeks since I found out he’s my father, and each day I promise myself that maybe tomorrow I’ll call him Dad, but when I see him my mouth doesn’t remember.

  “It’ll take time for you to adjust. He’s a nice guy who is trying to make up for all the years he missed.” My eyes divert to the kitchen where he’s painting the window frames. The one thing we missed. The two of us had been painting the walls for the past week. “That should clue you in to how important you are to him.”

  Everything changes too fast in life. Yesterday’s routine is gone. We’re trying to find a new one while finding ourselves. Maybe Chris is making a point, or his words are hitting home. I should also make the effort to make up for those lost times with my father and my brother. Changing a last name doesn’t affect me, but it’d make them happy. Calling him Dad—it’s freaking scary, but I’ll try harder.

  “You’re going to paint this house back to its original classy colors, right?” Mason puts an arm around my shoulders. “Hippie-chic is not to the liking of your landlord.”

  I bump him with my hip, smirking at him.

  “I can get used to this teasing-the-little-sister exercise. The Deckers taught me everything there is to know.” He smirks at Matt who glares at him. “I think I understand how it works.”

  “Dad, Mason is bothering me.” I stick my tongue out at Mason and walk closer to my father who is smiling at me, his lips stretching so broadly that it makes my heart sing.

  As I arrive home, the early rays of sun stream through the blinds illuminating the empty house. My choices are to head upstairs and catch up on some sleep before I head back to the office, or go through the many emails I ignored yesterday. The second option wins, because who the fuck am I kidding? I haven’t slept well since Thea’s revelation came to light.

  Shit, so much has happened since that day. I rub my chest, trying to release some of the hurt that remains from . . . losing him. Motherfucker. The ease with which he gave up on us still stings. Tossing our happiness because he can’t push his hard limits. He left when we needed him the most, when our lives were shifting. Thea found her father, she’s soaring as a counselor, and . . . well that’s about how much I’ve gathered from the few conversations I’ve had with her.

  Remorse floods my thoughts as I remember I missed yet another trip back home and didn’t make time to tell her. Massaging my temples, I walk into the library where my father has his piano. I need to lose myself for a while, find some music to take away the pain. God, Tristan isn’t the only one. I’ve fucked up so badly lately, but it’s hard for me to keep my shit together when Transcending is going through so many changes. After the latest numbers, Gabe stepped back into the offices and gave me one of those “what the fuck are you thinking?” lectures. It turns out that when he said, “The company is yours,” he meant it. It’s mine to do whatever the hell I want with it, as long as it succeeds.

  Translation: I’m busting my balls to recover the ground I lost, assigning new jobs to the ex-board members, and relocating the company. All while producing, directing, and writing new shows that are streaming online, and searching for new scripts. With that load, I barely have any time left for my personal life.

  Before I lose myself inside my music, I take out my phone to call my girl. I am pulling her up in my list of contacts when I hesitate. As much as I hate to admit it, our last conversation was awkward as fuck. The space of everything that we haven’t dealt with—that we miss—is expanding between us. I know we need to talk. She keeps telling me that we do. But tonight . . . tonight is not the night for all of that. I think better of it and decide to fire off a text to her instead.

  Matt: Hey, just got home after a long day at work. Sorry I missed this weekend’s trip but it’s busy at the office.

  I’m a cowardly fuck. Flipping through her pictures, the sense of grief and loneliness grabs hold of my heart and takes all the air from my lungs. I love her so much. I miss her. But calling or seeing her right now means either putting on a happy face or dealing with our mounting problems and I just don’t have the energy to do it.

  Butterfly: Maybe next week?

  Shit. She’s awake. I hoped she wouldn’t be, that by the time she answered I could ignore this text. Rising from my seat, I walk to the big window. The ocean view doesn’t help me forget, doesn’t ease the pain. It brings back memories of everything that can’t be fixed, of what we lost.

  Butterfly: I miss you.

  Matt: I m
iss you too, baby. How about I check the schedule when I go back to the office in a couple of hours? If all fails, you can fly to meet me when I head to Vancouver.

  That’s not for another three weeks. Should be plenty of time for me to gather strength, to get back to my old self.

  Butterfly: Sounds like a plan. Maybe later tonight we can chat over the phone?

  Matt: I’ll call you, but I’ll text if we pull another all-nighter.

  Butterfly: You need to rest, Mattie. I’m worried about you, baby.

  Matt: Nothing to worry about, Butterfly. Hate to leave you, but I have to take a quick nap. I love you.

  Butterfly: Love you too.

  Setting my phone back inside my pocket I decide to forget about my bed and release some of the anguish I carry inside me through my music. Let it flow through the wind.

  I sit on my chair, my head lying on top of my arms. My heart heavy, defeated by the loss I’ve experienced in the past months. Tristan left us, and Matt . . . he’s barely with me. I miss them both, and I can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel. It feels like the pain will never go away. In fact, Matt’s absence intensifies it every freaking day.

  As I wallow in self-pity, my phone buzzes.

  Pria: You available?

  I dial her number right away. “How’s the tour?” I ask when she answers the phone.

  Pria has been touring with Jacob for the past few months. We try to speak on a daily basis; sometimes it’s during the day, and sometimes it’s in the middle of the night. I’ll take her call at any time. She’s the one person who I can vent to without restraint.

  “I don’t know, this life is insane, Thea.” Pria sounds happy on the other side of the line. “One night he’s singing in Bangkok, the next we’re in Shanghai. We have time to visit a few touristy places but my life is jumping from one plane to another.”

  “Sounds awesome; maybe next time you’ll take me as your assistant,” I joke, laughing as I consider how my father will react if I tell him I’m touring around the world. The man has bodyguards following me every day to ensure there’re no reporters hounding me. “Jetting off sounds like what I should do about right now.”

  “How are you, Thea?” Her voice is serious. “Any news from Tristan?”

  “Nope. As expected, he vanished.” I close my eyes for a few seconds trying to bring him a little closer but I can’t. Tristan is gone. Pria is the only one I can talk to about that part of my broken heart. AJ’s my friend, but she hates Tristan right now. Matt avoids coming home, and when he’s in town, he avoids anything that has to do with our ex. “It’s been three months and it still hurts. How long does it take to forget?”

  “I don’t know. When I lost Jacob it took me . . . I never forgot him.” She sighs. “Once you give away your heart it’s hard.”

  “I know. Damn it. Matt hurts too. He doesn’t say anything, but I know he does.” I let out what I fear the most. “I’m losing him too, Pria. Matt. Every day, I feel as if he slips away a little bit more. As if we’re heading toward opposite directions and nothing I do or say can stop the motion. He’s too busy lately to come over on the weekends. I’ve gone to Vancouver twice to visit him but something is missing between us.” My head falls on my desk. “Do you know anything about Tristan? You know, since your husband is his business partner.”

  “If I didn’t know about your relationship, this would sound insane.” She laughs. “Pining for a guy while dating an awesome one too. Sorry, it’s funny and ridiculous. I heard that his dad is on bed rest. He broke his hip during the heart attack.” Pria lowers her voice. “Look, Thea, Matt loves you and one thing I know is that when a Decker hands you their heart, it’s forever. You’re not losing him, just try to talk it out.” Right. Talk it out. I bite back the words. Matt doesn’t want to talk about anything lately. How am I supposed to talk about us? “As for Tristan, he has been in Hartford since then. His father’s company is a mess. Jacob has been helping him with a few investments. I’m working on their brand, switching the old for the new.”

  After she gives me that quick update we move on to her schedule for the next few weeks. Her sister, Maeve, might travel to catch up with them in the near future. The plans they have after the tour. And then I end my story with a sour note.

  “My mother called Dad; she wants to see me.”

  “Arthur being your father hasn’t sunk in yet. You’re all sweet and smiles; he’s frowny and freaking scary.” Pria laughs and I look at the picture I have on top of my desk. Our first family picture: Mason, Dad, and me. AJ took it because we need memories. “So, what does your mother want?”

  “She checked herself into rehab, so I guess to talk.” I let all the air out of my lungs, along with my frustration. “This isn’t the first time and I really don’t want to go through the same shit over and over again. How many times can I let myself hope before I really break down?”

  “As many as she needs. You said it before, she’s sick, right? I’m here to catch you, sweets. Try one more time.” Pria says.

  “True, I needed a reminder.” A light knock on my door reminds me that my break is over, and my four o’clock is here. “Gotta go, Pria. Talk to you tomorrow?”

  “Yeah, and don’t forget second chances are good for the soul.”

  Mattie,

  We love this series.

  Do you think we can make it into a motion picture series?

  Buy the rights from J. M. Hurst.

  Love you,

  Pops and Dad

  “The question is, do I want to tell them that I write those books?”

  A pair of violet lights stare at me as I finish retelling my day—my week. Tonight is the first night when we can relax as I’m staying for the weekend and not just a few hours. It’s been hard to synchronize our schedules. Thea refuses to fly to California where I have been working almost nonstop. Flying for a few hours to check on the record company and my girlfriend is a killer, but until I can rearrange my schedule, that’s how life has to roll.

  “What do you think?” I ask, sweeping some curls off Thea’s face.

  “That you sell yourself too short.” Her delicate hand caresses my cheek. “And maybe you should tell your parents who J. M. Hurst is. They’d be proud of you.”

  “Maybe soon. I have to think about relocating Transcending, maybe to Vancouver.” She bites her lips and her eyes don't tell me much of what she's thinking. “It’s closer, we might see each other more often. How’s the new online store?”

  “The webpage is starting to get traffic,” she says, cuddling closer to me. “Owl Originals doesn’t work as well as Butterfly Creations, but it’ll have to do.”

  “Sounds like soon you’ll be back in business. What’s up with your new family?”

  “We’re still getting to know each other, but it isn’t as awkward as being in bed with your boyfriend and having a stuffy conversation as if he’s a stranger.” She licks my jaw. “I miss you, Mattie.”

  I knew staying overnight was a bad idea, but I really needed her tonight. Talking—talking is what I don’t need, but I can humor her. “You can’t miss me, I’m here.” I tease her skin with my fingers. “Shall I remind you how good it is to have me here?”

  “No, you’re not, Mattie.” She pushes my hands away. “You’re halfway here.”

  Fuck no, I swear under my breath. She's going to do her thing and psychoanalyze us.

  “We have to talk about it,” she insists, propping herself up against the headboard, letting the sheets fall, revealing her beautiful naked torso. Who wants to talk when her perky tits are begging to be sucked? Not me. “I’ve respected your ‘not now, Thea, I don’t want to talk’ shit, but it’s affecting us. Avoiding me won’t make it better. Swinging by to have sex and leaving because you’re busy is getting old.”

  I reach for her right breast and she slaps away my hand.

  “Tristan wasn't just some dude we met and fucked. No. He is ours—”

  “Was.” She glares at me. “What? If you w
ant to be accurate, let's be accurate. Tristan was the guy we fell in love with and who stayed as long as it was convenient for him. When things got nasty, he packed his shit and left. He was never ours.”

  Her body remains straight, but her eyes fill with hurt, hurt that’s pounding through my chest. Fuck. “Matt, we are barely holding it together.” Her lip quivers. “We can’t just try to move on without acknowledging the loss of Tristan.” Those enigmatic eyes close for a couple of breaths.

  “Let’s be honest with each other. We need to face this and deal with it.” She drops her gaze. Her fingers fidget with the sheets and my heart thunders in fear. “Look, I get it. It hurts to lose someone who actually meant something—everything—to you. We both lost him; we both hurt. I love him too. I used to daydream about us—our life. Making plans, wondering what the days, weeks, and years ahead would bring for the three of us. Today . . .”

  Her eyes lift, they’re watery. “We can’t continue like this, Matt. I just can’t be with you without him. It just doesn’t feel right. Something’s missing . . .”

  “What are you insinuating, Agatha?” he yells, leaving the bed. “I fucking love you. He already ripped part of my heart out. Are you planning on shattering the other part? Butterfly, don’t fucking do this to me.” He scrubs a hand down his face. “I can’t lose you, too. You want to talk? Fine, let’s talk. Yes, it hurts so fucking much that he decided we weren’t enough. That we weren’t worth the public bullshit he’d have to face. Like you, I believed that I had my life panned out—the three of us. Give us time.”

  “That’s what I’m doing,” I explain, as a blanket of misery covers my entire body. Unable to stay put, I push myself out of bed too and slip on a T-shirt. “This is a break, Mattie, a vacation from me. For however long, you won’t have to worry about avoiding me or having to pretend everything is okay, when we both know it’s not. We both need it. I love you, but I’m hurt, too. This is hard, but it’ll be harder if we stay on this path and end up hating each other.”