by Sorcha Grace
Or of Jace.
Seeing Ryan again had brought back old memories and emotions, and once at home, I found myself standing outside my darkroom. I hadn’t been inside since William and I were in there together, when I showed him my pictures. I missed William, but I was proud of myself too. I’d taken a huge step in my life. Seeing Ryan brought me back to everything I’d had before—and everything I’d lost. I wasn’t the shell of a person I’d been after Jace’s death. I was making a new life for myself.
My relationship with William hadn’t worked out, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t going to work out with someone else. That I’d let William get close was a huge step. I’d let myself feel, and that was major too. For the first time since Jace’s death, I thought there was a possibility I could be happy again. I could envision myself with someone besides Jace. For three years, I’d lived in the past, but now, I could look forward.
Happiness without Jace was possible. I would never forget him. I would always love him, but I could move on with my life. Amazingly, I’d come to these realizations in the last two weeks, over what really amounted to just a few days.
In that instant I knew exactly what I had to do. Seeing Ryan made me appreciate how far I’d come. I was finally ready. I stepped into the darkroom and searched among the dozens of boxes on the shelf until I found a roll of undeveloped film.
This was the roll.
I held it in my shaking hand and tried to breathe. This was the last roll of photos I’d taken of Jace. These were shot on Oahu’s fabled North Shore the afternoon of the accident that claimed his life. Little did I know these were the last photos I would take as Cat Ryder, fearless surf photographer and wife of the most promising new surfer on the pro circuit. This roll symbolized everything I had thought my life would be. It was everything I wanted. Once Jace was dead, once my life veered wildly off course, I hadn’t wanted to see that roll of smashed dreams. I’d almost thrown it away a half dozen times, but something always stopped me. And now, I knew why. I’d been saving it for this moment. I needed to confront those images now. I needed to confront my past as Cat Ryder.
I prepared my supplies and soaked the paper in the developer. As I watched, images slowly took shape. The clear, gorgeous blue water of Hawaii was the first thing I saw. These initial pictures were of the waves breaking and the ripcurl. I remember I’d been out on my long board, past the break point, with my heavy waterproof photo gear strapped on. The lens port I’d used on the water housing was gigantic. I loved the bubble effect it created because it allowed me to capture what was happening above and below the surface. These weren’t shots you got on land. You had to be in the surf, riding the waves with the guys. I had angled myself so I looked down the barrel to get the deep pocket shots.
The next pictures were of Jace. He was paddling out on his board, his smile as wide as his paddle. And he was looking directly at me. I stared at images of Jace as he waited for the perfect set or went duck-diving when waves broke in front of him. I had shots of Jace catching a wave and pictures of him deep in the tube as a wave curled above. More pictures—roundhouse cutbacks, aerials, Jace hitting the lip—Jace doing a backside bottom turn, a roundhouse cutback, and a carving frontside 360.
My breath whooshed out. I’d forgotten how good he was. He had so much talent. More pictures of him clawing toward the horizon as a set rolled down the reef, pictures of Jace and our friends, waiting on the shoulder, paddling to catch a wave, dropping in. I laughed when I saw the first of the shots where Jace wiped out. The swells that day were wicked, and even after Jace traded in his six-foot board for a seven-foot, he was still tossed around like human flotsam.
Finally, I saw the photos I was really looking for. These were the ones I’d taken back on the beach. Jace laughing and goofing around. He and his buddies were posing for the camera, pushing one another, making muscles. Then there were a few of Jace watching the surfers in the wild waves. He looked serious, contemplative, and focused. I remembered how I loved that look. It made my heart ache to see it again.
Tears streamed down my face as each image emerged in the developer bath. I missed Jace so much. There was a huge hole in my life where he should have been—where he’d never be again. He was beautiful, so full of life. And then I crushed my hand to my mouth because I’d forgotten this last photo. I’d probably taken it to finish the roll. It was an image of the two of us together as I’d held the camera and snapped a picture. I sobbed openly when I saw how young we were. Our faces were pink from the sun, and there was so much love in our eyes as we grinned at one another.
It hurt to look at the two of us. I missed him so much.“Jace,” I whispered to the photo. I couldn’t speak the words, but I was so sorry. Sorry I was driving, sorry I’d had a beer before we left, sorry I pushed him to leave before he was ready, sorry I didn’t see the beat-up, red pickup truck barreling toward us before it was too late.
Sorry I never said good-bye or I love you one last time.
I pressed a finger to the image in the bath. “I love you,” I whispered. “I love you, Jace.”
The image blurred as my tears fell and mixed with the developer bath. I took a deep, shuddering breath and finally let go.
I was ready.
Using my tongs, I grasped the picture of Jace and me. I smiled through my tears at the way our heads tipped easily toward each other. Marveled at our clear eyes and sun-kissed skin. We looked so happy and so young. And we were. We were all of that and more.
This was the picture I wanted to remember. This was the one I’d frame and treasure.
I hung the photo to dry and set the tongs down, almost knocking another roll of film off the table. I lifted it and realized it was the final roll I’d taken on my walk in Lake Forest that afternoon two weekends ago. It seemed like another lifetime—someone else’s life.
I hadn’t used all the exposures, and when I’d showed William my darkroom, I’d playfully snapped the remaining few of him with my Leica. I took a deep breath and submerged these in the developer bath. I watched as an image of William and his stormy eyes materialized. In the image, he was playful. I smiled, thinking back. I’d been laughing so hard as William and I goofed around. I’d been happy and content. I’d felt safe, relaxed, and…loved.
Oh, shit. Loved! I took a sharp breath. What the hell had I done? Was William right all along? Had I been fighting him and my future? And if he was my future, had I walked away from him and all we could be together?
I heard a buzz and jumped from the unexpected sound. With a frown, I left the darkroom, rubbing my hands on my jeans. Laird was standing by the door, and I pressed the intercom button. “Yes?”
“Miss Kelly, it’s George Graham.”
I blinked. What the hell did he want?
“May I come up?”
“I…” I sighed. Better get this over now. I pushed the buzzer and opened the door. A moment later, George crested the stairs. Once again, he was wearing a black suit and looked as though he’d come directly from his desk at the FBI. “Come in,” I said, indicating my living room. “I only have a minute.”
“I’ll be brief.” He stepped inside, standing stiff and formal, posture rigid. “I must speak with you. This is the only way.”
“Did William send you?” I patted Laird on the head, staying near the door. We weren’t sitting for this. He could speak and leave.
“No. If Mr. Lambourne knew I was here, I would lose my job. You hold my livelihood in your hands.”
“Why would you come against William’s wishes?”
For the first time, the man looked human. A flicker of emotion crossed his features. “You need to know the truth. Mr. Lambourne told me you discovered the dossier I created on Jenny Hill.”
My eyes widened. “So that was your work?”
“I make one for every woman Mr. Lambourne sees.”
“Including me.”
“No.” He took a step forward. “That’s why I came. I never made one for you. Mr. Lambourne told you the truth
. I suggested doing so. In fact, I all but insisted. Mr. Lambourne refused. That’s the first time he’s ever done so.”
“What exactly is your job, Mr. Graham? Head snooper?”
I saw the ghost of a smile on his lips. “I’m head of personal security for Mr. Lambourne. I’ve protected him for years. He’s a wealthy man—the perfect target for abduction, violent crime by an anticapitalism group, or exploitation by a certain kind of woman. I make sure no one who hasn’t been vetted gets close to Mr. Lambourne. I generally select dates for him. I—”
“Wait a moment. You’re like his pimp?”
Anger flashed in his eyes. “I search for women who are Mr. Lambourne’s type, those who would make suitable companions. Whether the lady chooses to date him is her decision. You cannot expect a man like William Lambourne to meet women on the Internet or troll bars, and it is frequently necessary for him to take a date to an event.”
“And yet, he managed to meet me without your help.”
“Yes.”
I couldn’t help but note that George looked none too happy.
“You were—are—different. I’ve never seen him act like he’s acted with you. And now…” He trailed off and shook his head. “Mr. Lambourne has been miserable the last few days without you. I’ve never seen him like this, and I’ve known him a very long time. I worked for his father and I’ve known Mr. Lambourne since he was a young man. I know you doubt your relationship with Mr. Lambourne, but I came to tell you it’s genuine, Miss Kelly. He’s never lied to you and what Mr. Lambourne feels for you is genuine.”
I swallowed, a lump rising in my throat. Did the man have any idea how much I wanted to hear this? Was this another of William’s manipulations? “Why are you telling me this?”
“Honestly, Miss Kelly, I don’t know. I suppose I think of Mr. Lambourne as my responsibility. I don’t like to see him like this. I could think of no option but to speak with you personally.”
I sighed. I didn’t want to believe George Graham. I didn’t want to know William was miserable without me, that his feelings hadn’t been a fabrication. That he never ordered a dossier on me. I had gotten past the worst of the pain, and I couldn’t imagine going through a breakup again if we got back together.
“I know you have severed all ties with Mr. Lambourne,” George said, “but if you reconsider, you will find Mr. Lambourne at a benefit dinner tonight for the new cancer wing at Chicago Hospital. Mr. Lambourne endowed the new wing.”
“Of course, he did,” I muttered. “And what’s a million or two?”
He held out an envelope, and I hesitated before taking it.
“This is a ticket to the event. Perhaps you will attend. I promise it will be worth your time if you care to see the real William Lambourne.” He pulled his black leather gloves from his coat pocket. “And it was twenty million, actually. Good afternoon, Miss Kelly.”
He opened my door and disappeared down the steps. I stood in my empty living room for a full minute before looking at Laird, who yawned. I gave Laird a hug and pulled the ticket from the envelope. The event was at The Peninsula Hotel, and the ticket stated it was black tie.
I dug my phone out of my purse and called Beckett. “Hey!” he answered. “You left too early last night. You missed all the fun.”
I smiled. “Did you go home with Alec?”
“What kind of guy do you think I am?”
“The easy kind?”
“You know me so well. All we shared was a kiss. It was nice. Didn’t you have a good time?”
“Yes, but then I saw William, and it freaked me out.”
“Cat, it was your imagination.”
“No, it wasn’t.” I told Beckett about running into Ryan Lewis.
“Oh, Cat, I didn’t even think. Of course, Sports Illustrated would cover the event.”
“You couldn’t know they’d send someone I know, and that’s actually not why I called. Something weird happened.” I told him about my conversation with George Graham. “I don’t think I should go, Beckett. It’s not like William apologized. So what if he’s miserable? He said himself I was better off without him.”
“Bullshit, Cat. You don’t believe that. The man is pining over you and—hello—you have been pining over him. This is your chance. It’s so romantic, like Harry and Sally on New Year’s Eve.”
“Except he’s not Billy Crystal, and I’m not Meg Ryan. And it’s not New Year’s Eve.”
“Cat, I see you running into the hotel, looking frantically for William, spotting him across the room…” He sighed.
I forgot what a hopeless romantic Beckett could be.
“It’s a black-tie event, Beckett. William and I don’t have a good history at high-end charity functions.”
“Don’t go then.” He sounded petulant. “Give up. This might be your last chance at finding true love again. What if William is The One? And you won’t go to one event?”
“Yeah, an event that William’s creepy CIA guy gave me a ticket to.”
“The man risked everything for true love! How can you be so hard-hearted?”
I laughed. Beckett could be so over the top. “Okay, Beckett. When you put it that way, how can I refuse?”
“So you’ll go?”
“I have to.”
*****
Beckett was right. Not about the Harry and Sally thing, but about my chance for finding true love again. I did love William.
I sat in the back of a cab, dressed in the fabulous red gown William had sent for our first date. Strangely enough, I felt comfortable in it. I didn’t mind the red like I thought I would. That didn’t mean I wasn’t nervous and as skittish as a rabbit.
I couldn’t believe I—Catherine Kelly Ryder—was doing something so outrageous. I finally knew. I wanted William Lambourne. It was more than attraction, more than great sex. I loved him.
William was right when he said there was something undeniable between us. I couldn’t deny it anymore. I had no idea how William would respond when he saw me, but I didn’t care. I had to try. I had to take my chances.
I needed to see him.
The bottom floors of The Peninsula Hotel housed retail shops, so it took me a few moments to reach the hotel. When I did, I found the place, as expected, superb. I was so anxious to see William that I barely noticed the luxury. The concierge informed me the event was in the Grand Ballroom, and I made my way there as quickly as possible. I showed my ticket and entered, but as soon as I did, I realized I was late. The guests were seated at their tables, listening attentively to the speaker on the platform. The voice sounded familiar, and I gaped when I realized William stood behind the podium at the front.
I hadn’t known he would be speaking. This was a rare chance to watch him unnoticed. I stood quietly inside the door, listening to William’s address. “I could stand here and tell you that cancer research is vitally important,” he said. “That as a nation, as a world, we are called to support this research in every way we can. I could tell you the statistics, the different forms of cancer, the number of people who die from it every year, the cost to our nation and our world. But none of that would mean much unless you had a personal connection. I suspect many of you, like me, do have a personal connection.”
I was impressed so far. William was a compelling speaker, and I was all but leaning forward, listening.
“When my aunt, a woman who is like a mother to me, was diagnosed with cancer two years ago, there were few places that offered cutting-edge treatments for a cancer like hers. I could send her to Houston. I could send her to New York or Baltimore. Here we are in Chicago, the country’s third largest city, and we had nothing to rival MD Anderson or Sloan-Kettering. It stunned me. I hadn’t realized how vital cutting-edge cancer treatment centers were or that my own city was lacking. But then, none of us do—until we’re touched by cancer personally.
“Unfortunately, many of you have been or will be touched by cancer in your lives. You or a loved one will be diagnosed, and I am pleased to say
that in the Lambourne Cancer Wing at Chicago Hospital, the most cutting-edge cancer research and treatment options will be offered to patients. Chicago is a world-class city, and it’s only fitting that we offer the latest and the best. And so, on behalf of the Lambourne family, I am pleased to be part of something that will save the lives of so many…”
William was not done speaking, but applause exploded. I clapped too. I had never seen him speak so earnestly, so passionately. He rarely spoke of anything personal, but this was close to his heart. He paused, as if to control his emotion, before going on.
William waited for the applause to die down, glancing about the room. As he did, his gaze landed on me. Our eyes locked, and even though I wanted to look away, I couldn’t. The pull I felt when he looked at me was too strong.
Finally, William cleared his throat and spoke again. “Proton therapy, smart drugs, treatments aimed at new genes and cancer pathways—these are but a few treatments the Lambourne Cancer Wing will offer patients.” He went on, speaking about immune systems and targeting cancer cells, but I couldn’t concentrate. All I could see were his stormy eyes, focused directly on me. And though he must have looked down at his notes or out at the audience, I felt as though he were speaking to me alone.
The speech ended, and the applause rose. The audience did too, giving William a standing ovation. William looked relaxed and easy as he left the podium, shaking hands, smiling, looking like a politician. He was in his element, no doubt.
And there was something else I did not doubt. He was headed straight for me.
My heart raced, and my hands shook as he neared me. I couldn’t move. My feet seemed to be rooted to the floor. I couldn’t stop staring at this glorious man who had been, briefly, mine.
He finally reached the edge of the room and held out his hand. My arm felt like lead as I lifted it. Electricity jumped between us when he embraced my hand in his large warm one, his grey eyes riveted on me. I could hardly breathe, hardly think.
