The Bad Twin

by Avery Scott

“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said, extending her hand in greeting. “I was just trying to buy this beautiful piece here, but I’ve been told it’s not for sale. Can you make an exception? I just have to have it!”

  “Yes, of course it’s for sale!”

  “Excuse me, Ms. Levesque,” the employee cut in. “I’m sorry, but she can’t buy this painting. It’s already been sold. As a matter-of-fact, all of these paintings have been purchased.”

  “All of them?” Abby asked in shock. “How is that possible? It must be a mistake?” She knew that the opening was successful, but the announcement didn’t make sense. No one had ever heard of her before this showing. She would have considered herself lucky if she managed to sell even one piece tonight. Two would have been a raving success. But to sell all of them? She couldn’t believe it was true.

  “An anonymous buyer has purchased the entire set for his private collection.”

  “That’s impossible!” Abby looked back at the gallery assistant one more time, just in case it really was a joke, but he was clearly serious. Abby turned back to the guest who had wanted to purchase one for herself. “I’m sorry, but I guess I’m sold out.”

  The rest of the night was a blur. Abby was on such a high that she forgot how insecure she’d been feeling earlier. She was sad to see the last group of guests file out the door.

  “Perfect!” The gallery manager exclaimed, cornering Abby the second that the event was over. “We’ll have to wait for tomorrow’s papers, of course, but I have a great feeling about this. One of my friends was standing next to Rudy Sherman. I told you about him, didn’t I? He’s a reporter for…”

  The woman continued to drone on, but Abby quit paying attention to the words. Her eyes fixed on a man standing in front of the painting she had titled, “After.” She was certain that all the guests were gone, and all the gallery assistants were behind her pocketing leftover hors d’oeuvres and finishing off the open bottles of champagne. It was more than just curiosity that captured her attention. The man’s face was turned away, but his shape was familiar. He reminded her of…

  “Hudson.” The name erupted from Abby’s lips and tears pricked the corner of her eyes.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “Hudson? What?” The gallery manager turned at the sound of Abby’s voice and frowned, puzzled by the exclamation.

  Abby didn’t reply. Without conscious thought, her feet moved across the gallery space toward the stranger, his presence drawing her in like she was caught in a tractor beam.

  Abby kept walking until she was only a foot away. The man’s back was turned, but there was no mistaking his identity. She would never forget the scent of his cologne or the way he held his body. She ached to reach forward and touch him.

  He seemed to sense her presence. He lifted his chin and took a breath. Then he turned. Two pairs of blue eyes met, the electricity of unspoken pain crackling between them.

  Abby parted her lips. She wanted to speak, but there was too much. It was as if all the words she wanted to say tried to come out at once and, instead, were caught in her throat. Hudson appeared to be in the same predicament. They simply stared at one another, as if neither could quite believe that this was real.

  “Oh! I see you’ve met our mystery buyer!”

  The gallery manager’s voice cut in. Oblivious to the moment that she had just interrupted, the woman oozed up to Hudson’s side. “Mr. Quinn, this is the artist that I told you about on the phone. The new talent that I’ve discovered, Abagail Levesque. Isn’t she something? It’s like I told you. She’s even prettier than the pictures that she paints.”

  Abby flushed at the description, not sure if it was a compliment or an insult. Surely it didn’t matter what she looked like if the work was good. She was pleased when Hudson didn’t respond to the bait.

  “Mr. Quinn is quite a fan of your work, Ms. Levesque. He’s been to the gallery several times. I shared your notes on the paintings, but he had a lot of questions…I told him what you said about the inspiration being private but perhaps you would indulge him. He’s paid a lot of money.”

  The mention of the money made Abby remember how she felt when she received Hudson’s check “For Services Rendered” but the look on his face kept her from drawing away.

  “I told him it was some sort of breakup…” the manager droned on, cluelessly. “The loss of the self in relationships and…what was the part that you told me about your mother?”

  Abby ignored the other woman’s prodding. Hudson didn’t speak either.

  Apparently frustrated by the exchange, the manager finally took a hint. “Well, I’ll leave you two to get to know each other then,” she said with a faint edge to her voice. Then, she walked back to join the others in drinking and recounting the evening.

  “You came,” Abby finally managed to croak when they were alone.

  “You invited me.”

  “None of this would have happened without you.”

  “No,” Hudson glanced back at the painting, the curving brushstrokes progressively darker toward the edge of the frame, hollowing from the outside-in instead of the other way around. “Looks like I don’t make a very pleasant muse.”

  “No,” Abby agreed and looked down at her feet. She couldn’t bring herself to ask the questions that she really wanted answered: Why was he here? Why had he bought the paintings? What did it mean?

  “Tell me about this one,” Hudson said, moving to a different canvas. This piece was in the middle of the progression that she and Laura had carefully arranged. The right side of the canvas was gray and studded with splotchy, disorganized brushstrokes, while the left was awash in vibrant colors. A subtle yellow smudge that was almost a glow separated the two spaces. A small plaque on the wall next to the piece read: A. Levesque (b. 1993), Belonging, 2019, Oil on canvas “

  Abby’s heart beat faster and she still couldn’t meet Hudson’s gaze.

  “No comment?”

  “It’s just…splashes of paint.”

  “Nonsense,” Hudson corrected her. “I used to know this artist. She told me that real art communicates something. Impressionism isn’t about how something looks, it’s about how something feels.”

  “The painting isn’t impressionist. It’s abstract.”

  Hudson ignored the correction.

  “Do you want me to tell you how this painting makes me feel?”

  Abby nodded slowly.

  “This part,” Hudson gestured toward the gray, “Feels…bleak. Hopeless. Lost. Whereas this area…” He moved his hands to the other side, his long fingers nearly brushing the paint. “This feels happy and alive, and this glow…”

  “The glow is when I met you,” Abby blurted. “The glow is what changed. Hudson, I-!”

  Hudson laid two fingers across her lips, but she reached up and brushed them away. This might be the last time she ever saw him. She had to let him know.

  “I never meant to lie to you. I know I did. I know it was wrong, and I’m sorry if you feel betrayed, but I can’t be sorry that it happened. At first, I just thought about keeping the job. We- Gabrielle and I- we needed the money to save our home, but you were so unexpected. You blew into my life on a storm cloud, but then you were so charming and warm. I didn’t mean to fall for you, but it just happened. It wasn’t about your money at all. It was the way you listened as if I had something important to say. It was the way you made me look at things in different ways than I ever considered, the way you made me feel about myself. I met you and for the first time in my life, my dream was within my reach.”

  “Your dream?” Hudson’s brow furrowed as he tried to puzzle out her meaning. “The dream of becoming an artist, you mean.”

  “No.” Abby shook her head, honestly surprised that he didn’t understand. “I finally realized that my dream is you. I made up my mind as a little girl that I would never fall in love. It’s too hard and too scary. I wanted it, in spite of myself, but I never thought it would happen…a
nd then there was you. I know we were only together for a little while, but I love you, Hudson,” Abby paused to meet his gaze, capturing his blue eyes with her own. “It’s crazy and reckless and probably unrequited, but it’s true. I love you. I love you so much it scares me.”

  “I’m scared too.”

  Hudson spoke so softly that Abby wondered if she’d imagined the words. “Scared? Of what?”

  “Scared that I got so wrapped up in the idea of making a mistake that I let the best thing that ever happened to me slip out of my grasp.”

  His intent was unmistakable, but that didn’t make it any easier to comprehend.

  “Me?” The word was soaked in wonder.

  “Yes, you. I love you too, Abagail Levesque.”

  The sound that emerged from Abby’s lips was somewhere between a laugh and a strangled cry.

  “But, I don’t deserve you.”

  “Of course, you do. You’re crazy beautiful and crazy talented and…”

  “Maybe a little bit…crazy?”

  “The good kind of crazy. My kind of crazy.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “You’re not mad at me?”

  Hudson didn’t immediately answer.

  When he first read Abby’s invitation, he wanted to rip it into tiny pieces. He couldn’t quite bring himself to do it though. He took the card home and threw it on the kitchen counter where the scent of Abby’s perfume, transferred to the paper from her touch, taunted him every time he walked past. He kept rereading the words she had scrawled on the back, feeling their righteousness a little stronger each time. He wouldn’t take back anything that had happened in Paris either, even after all the pain.

  Abby’s memory was with him every second that they were apart. She was the one who gave him the courage to face his father. She was the reason he finally acknowledged that he wanted to build things instead of tearing them down.

  Hudson didn’t intend to respond to Abby’s invitation, but the gallery was near his apartment. He couldn’t resist stopping by to peek. Imogene arranged a preview. Just one look at the paintings took his breath away. Hudson bought them all on the spot. He had even tried to quash the exhibition, but the gallery owner wouldn’t let him. Even to Hudson’s untrained eyes, the paintings were so personal that he couldn’t bear the thought of sharing them with the world.

  After his purchase, Hudson could no longer deny that Abagail Levesque was under his skin. The final phase of acceptance was coming to the gallery event. He tried to resist the impulse. He made plans on the other side of town but couldn’t concentrate on drinks with friends while Abby’s show was underway. He drove himself crazy knowing that Abby was there and wondering if she was looking for him and if she was alone. In the end, he couldn’t stay away.

  “Not anymore.” Hudson finally answered Abby’s query. He had tried so hard to protect the flame of righteous anger that Abby’s lie had sparked, but he had already fallen for her. The love and longing he felt for Abby had swelled to such a point that there wasn’t room in his heart for anything else. After all, he knew better than anyone what it felt like to lie to protect someone you loved. How could he refuse to forgive Abby for something he had done himself? Besides, if losing his brother had taught him anything, it was that life is fragile and short. Hudson had tried to smother his emotions under work and self-recrimination once before, but he had failed.

  “Really?”

  “I’m sorry that it took me so long to come to my senses,” Hudson said in a raspy voice.

  “Will you give me another chance?” Abby’s expression was still wary.

  “If you’ll give me one.”

  “You aren’t afraid of making another mistake?”

  Hudson finally smiled. He lifted his hand to stroke Abby’s cheek. “You’re not a mistake…but if you are, then you’re the best bad decision I ever made.”

  Epilogue

  It wasn’t like Gabrielle to be late.

  It wasn’t like the new Gabrielle, at least. Abby tapped her foot impatiently while she stole a glance at her watch. She had to come to the commuter airport to see her sister off on an important business trip. Gabrielle had clearly said to meet her at three PM and the Merida Technology plane was waiting on the airstrip exactly as her sister had promised. The only thing missing was Gabrielle herself.

  Most mornings, Abby passed the time tucked away in her studio, painting. Abby’s exhibit was a sensation and her agent constantly hounded her to produce more pieces. It was harder these days. The breakup with Hudson had spurred a frenzy of production. Now that they were back together, she didn’t have as much of a drive to work.

  Abby smiled when she thought about her boyfriend. It had been almost exactly a year since their fateful trip to Paris and nearly eight and a half months since their reconciliation. Given their personal histories, they vowed to take things slow, but that barely lasted a week. Hudson moved into the house in Brooklyn and they had been going strong ever since.

  She honestly didn’t know what she had done to deserve such an amazing man. Even now, nearly a year after they met, she was still discovering new facets of his personality almost every day. She loved watching the passion that he applied to building his new company, Colin Construction, and the way that his money and efforts had transformed not just their home, but the entire street.

  Hudson was the one who reminded her of their upcoming anniversary.

  “Wear something sexy and be prepared for a surprise,” he whispered that morning before heading out to meet up with his foreman. Abby forgot to ask him what time she could expect her surprise, but she had worn his favorite set of Agent Provocateur undies to be prepared.

  She was reluctant to leave the house, but she saw her sister so rarely these days that she couldn’t ignore Gabrielle’s plea to meet at the airport. Gabrielle’s boss, the CEO of Merida, had a stopover in New York en route to a banking meeting. The plane would only be on the ground for a few hours, but Abby’s sister thought they had time to link up and eat lunch. They were supposed to meet nearly an hour earlier, but there was still no sign of the younger twin. Abby received a text that read, “On my way. Don’t leave!” but nothing more had followed, and the plane was making its final preparations to take off.

  “Ma’am, I’m afraid we really need to go. Our flight plan had us pushing off the gate fifteen minutes ago.”

  “Just a few more minutes!” Abby snapped at the flight attendant who addressed her.

  “Would you at least like to wait inside? It’s freezing.”

  That was a bit of hyperbole. Yes, the morning was a bit colder than normal, but Abby was warm enough in her cashmere sweater. She did feel badly, however, that the crew was stuck on the tarmac waiting. She hoped her sister hadn’t been in an accident.

  “Mr. de Winter has been asking to meet you.” The attendant pressed her to come onboard.

  “To meet me?” Abby frowned, skeptical.

  “Oh, yes. He’s quite a fan of your work.”

  Abby flushed with pleasure. Her status as one of the emerging rockstars of the New Abstract movement was still so fresh that she could never believe when someone professed to be a fan. In fact, she doubted that it would ever feel “normal”.

  “Well, I guess I could sit on the plane for just a little while,” she finally relented. “But my sister should be here any minute.”

  “Of course.”

  Abby followed the dark-haired woman up the stairs of the Bombardier 6500 and into its lush cabin. She smiled when she stepped inside. It must have been the same make and model as the one that Quinn Holdings used. The plane looked exactly the same inside as the one she and Hudson had flown to Paris the year before.

  “Back there.” The woman directed Abby through the door at the end of the first compartment.

  “Thanks.”

  The attendant smiled and then disappeared.

  “Uhm…Mr. de Winter?” Abby said to the businessman sitting on the other side of the door. “You wanted to meet me?” />
  The man’s lips spread into a broad smile. “Oh! There you are! I thought we were going to have to take off without you.”

  “Without my sister, you mean,” Abby corrected with a nervous smile.

  “Er…of course.”

  At that moment, the sound of the engines changed. The pitch was higher than it had been before and Abby squealed as the plane lurched forward.

  “Wait! Stop!” she called out, even though she was too far back in the plane for the pilots to hear her.

  “Sit down, Ms. Levesque. Stop making such a fuss!”

  “But-!”

  “Sit!” the older gentleman said so forcefully that Abby obeyed without thinking.

  The plane was moving faster. It made a sharp turn onto the runway.

  “You have to let me off!”

  “What’s gotten into you?” The man’s face was growing ruddy with annoyance. “If I wanted a flibberty-jibbet for an assistant, I would have kept Daniel. Honestly, I’ve never known you to act so strangely.”

  “That’s because you don’t know me at all!” Abby squeaked, finally realizing that the man thought she was Gabrielle. “I’m Abagail Levesque, Gabrielle’s sister, and I have to get off this plane!”

  “What?” the man arched a brow, but otherwise seemed unconcerned. “You look exactly like her!”

  “We’re identical twins!” Abby said, growing slightly more frantic as the plane picked up speed. She crawled toward the front of the plane.

  “Excuse me,” said the flight attendant who had spoken to Abby on the tarmac. “You need to return to your seat and buckle your lap belt.”

  “But we have to stop!”

  “A little too late for that.”

  Abby felt a swoop in her stomach as the wheels of the plane left the ground.

  She leaned over the seat to look out the window, her heart sinking in tandem with the ground underneath them.

  She sank dejectedly into the nearest chair. What was she going to do? Abby was nearly frantic. She had mentioned to Hudson that she was planning to meet her sister for lunch, but they were going out to dinner afterward. What would Gabrielle think? This was the second time that Abby had jetted off toward Europe in her sister’s place.