Etching Our Way (Broken Tracks Series Book 1)

by Abigail Davies

  “I really need to get going, but if you need anything else then call. I’m always available for important clients,” he says and holds out his hand toward me.

  I shake it, smiling wide. “Thank you, this… It’s an honor to have one of your pieces.”

  He chuckles. “I’ll never get used to people thinking that I’m something special.” He turns toward my mom and shakes her hand too. “Have a great day, ladies, I’ll see myself out.”

  He waves before walking down the stairs and I watch out the window as he pulls out his cellphone and taps on it while walking toward his car.

  “I’m guessing this is a big deal?” Mom finally says.

  I blow out a breath while looking at the painting, feeling the emotion from the first time I saw it flowing through me. I’m in awe. “Huge.” I hold my cellphone in the air. “Do you mind if—”

  “Call him,” she interrupts. “We can do lunch another time.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” I hand her the car keys. “Take the car, I’ll take a cab.”

  She smirks and takes them from me, waving goodbye as she walks down the stairs.

  I look down at my cellphone, pressing call on Tristan’s number.

  It rings out so I hang up and type out a message to him.

  Harmony: We need to talk. I’m at my studio if you can come.

  I giggle at the sentiment behind the message, the words “we need to talk” are hardly ever a good thing. In this case they are, but he doesn’t know that. He deserves the anxiety for spending so much money on me.

  I’ve never cared about money; how little or how much I had has never mattered. Of course I need it to run my studio, so it matters that I have enough for that, but other than that, it’s insignificant to me. I’ve never been materialistic.

  I tear my gaze away from the painting I can’t stop staring at for two minutes while I open the balcony doors to let in the light, summer breeze, and turn on the radio, relishing in the notes of the calming music as they wash over me. I turn back toward the painting and wonder what Oliver was thinking when he created it. Is there a muse behind it?

  I sigh, smiling as the lights change and the woman depicted smiles back at me.

  I feel him before I see him, my skin prickling with goose bumps and a shiver rolling through me as he wraps his arms around my waist from behind before kissing the sensitive skin beneath my ear.

  I turn around in his arms, seeing his eyes fixated on the painting before he murmurs, “Worth every single dollar.”

  “You shouldn’t have spent so much money on me.”

  “It wasn’t for you. It was for me.” I raise a brow in question and he leans in close to my mouth and whispers, “Seeing your reaction and watching you try to figure out the reasoning behind the painting is priceless. I’d pay a large amount of money any day to see the look on your face right now; over and over again.”

  She stares at me in shock at the words I’ve said, and all I can do is smirk at her.

  She’s not the kind of person who easily accepts gifts—she never has been—but this is different because I saw the way that she was staring at this painting the other night. The way I feel is: if I can’t use my money to buy things like this for her, then I don’t know what I can spend my money on. It’s not as if it was a hardship, and I’ll do anything to bring that smile to her face and the look in her honey eyes.

  I press my lips against hers in a gentle kiss before I pull back, lifting up the bottle of red wine that I brought with me.

  From the first moment I pulled up to her studio and I saw that balcony, I always imagined drinking a glass of red wine on it as I watched the sun set. I never in my wildest dreams thought I’d be doing it with Harmony by my side.

  “I brought this,” I tell her as I grab the two plastic glasses that I found in the picnic set that sits unused in my house. They may not be the wine glasses that I imagined when I first saw the balcony, but they’ll do the job.

  “So, you were thinking you could sweet talk me into having a drink with you?” She raises a brow at me playfully as she tilts her head to the side.

  “Maybe.” I smirk and grab the bottle opener. “How many times have you looked at that balcony and imagined drinking a glass of wine while you watched the sun set?” I ask, knowing that she’s got to have at least thought about it once.

  “How do you know that I haven’t spent every night on it with a glass of wine in my hand already?”

  She purses her lips as she tries to stifle a giggle, laughter shining in her eyes.

  I shake my head as I pull the cork out of the bottle. “Because I know you,” I say, pouring the wine into the two glasses and handing her one as I step forward. “You don’t like to drink alone.”

  She smirks but doesn’t comment before looking down at the glass. “Weren’t you brought up around fine wine? Surely you know red wine needs to breathe for at least half an hour before you can drink it.”

  I raise a brow, bringing the glass to my lips and letting the dense liquid swirl around my mouth, tasting black cherry and spice with a hint of vanilla. “You don’t need to let mature wine breathe,” I say with a wink. “That’s one of the reasons it’s priced so highly.”

  She rolls her eyes before walking out onto the balcony and I follow her. “You’re right,” she comments, her eyes settling on the setting sun. “It’s breathtaking out here right now.”

  Leaning my arms on the railing, I lift my head and watch the setting sun; the pink and orange hues extending as far as the eye can see. “It is,” I marvel, thinking that that’s not the only thing that is breathtaking out here—she is too. So beautiful that I almost find it hard to catch my breath as I stare at her, watching her hair trail along her shoulders as the wind flows through it.

  The song playing on the radio changes and “Perfect” by Ed Sheeran plays through the speakers. His soulful voice wraps around us like the vines that wrap around the balcony, his words hitting me in the chest and making me swallow to keep my emotions under control.

  I never thought that we’d be back here, not after all of the history between us.

  I place my drink down on the white metal table before grazing my fingers down her arm and to her hand, gripping it gently and pulling her toward me slowly.

  She startles at first, having been entranced by the sunset, but a smile slowly creeps up her face and her eyes twinkle. “What are you doing, Mr. Carter?”

  “I’m trying to dance with you, Miss Jameson.” I pull her even closer as the piano and string instruments play through the speakers, intertwining with his voice.

  She places her glass on the table before hooking her hands around my neck and I snake my arms around her waist, bringing her closer to me so that our chests are touching. I can feel her fast heartbeat thumping against me as it matches the rhythm of mine.

  I gently sway us side to side, my eyes not leaving hers as each word he sings resonates within me.

  The smile doesn’t leave her face and I start to hum the tune, making her giggle. Her carefree aura has a grin lifting my lips and I step back, still holding her against me as I walk us off the balcony and into her private studio.

  I let her go, keeping my hand connected to hers as I twirl her around. She lets her head fall back, laughing out loud as I start to sing the words and bring her back between my arms—right where she belongs.

  “I see you still haven’t taken those singing lessons that we talked about,” she laughs out.

  I wink, singing louder and moving us to the beat of the music. It’s all fun and laughs until the grin drops from my face and I stare into her eyes, portraying how much I mean the lyrics that I’m singing to her.

  Before seeing Oliver’s art show, I never thought that we’d be here, together. I know there are still things I need to admit to her, to tell her why I did what I did all of those years ago, but all I want to do right now is bask in the glow that we’re emitting and stay inside this bubble.

  Her eyes search mine as I continue to sing,
pulling her closer, my lips a hairsbreadth from hers as I whisper the words over her lips.

  “I’ve missed this,” I say, watching her carefully as the last notes of the song play.

  The radio starts playing a faster song and she pulls back, her eyes flashing with something that she immediately shuts down before she clears her throat, walking back out onto the balcony.

  I stand still in the middle of her private studio, watching her back as she picks her wine up off the table and stares out into the darkening sky.

  I shouldn’t have said that.

  Shaking my head, I try to paste a smile on my face as I walk back toward her, wrapping my arms around her from behind and placing my chin on her shoulder.

  “Have I told you today that you’re beautiful?” I whisper in her ear, trying to cut through the atmosphere that has wrapped its way around us from my comment about missing her.

  She’s quiet for a beat and I watch as a blush creeps up her cheeks. “I… Thank you.” She turns in my arms and stares into my eyes. “You’re not so bad yourself, I suppose.”

  “No suppose about it.” I smirk, pushing her back a step so that her back hits the railing. My gaze flicks down from hers to her lips as she traces her tongue over them.

  My hand lifts of its own accord, my thumb trailing over her bottom lip as I lean forward, capturing her soft lips with mine, and showing her how I really feel.

  I may not be able to say it with my words right now, but actions speak louder. I put all of my feelings into the kiss, trying my hardest to show her what she means to me.

  Her hands move into my hair as mine settle on her hips, my tongue tracing the seam of her lips as I ask for entrance. She opens up for me and I swipe my tongue against hers, relishing in the small moan that escapes her throat at the sensation.

  I pull away slowly, letting my lips savor every second that they touch hers as she opens her eyes.

  “This balcony sure is something,” I comment, a cheeky grin lifting my lips.

  “You can say that again,” she mumbles before her lips are on mine again.

  Fifth Harmony—Sledge Hammer

  Adele—Send My Love(To Your New Lover)

  Caleb & Kelsey—Happier

  Harry Styles—Sign Of The Times

  I smile as I sit in the board meeting, thinking about the last couple of weeks. After Harmony received the painting, she was adamant that she couldn’t have it. But I saw the way she got lost in it at the art show.

  The last few weeks have cemented everything in my mind. She wants me just as much as I want her, and there’s nothing and nobody standing in our way this time.

  Since the art show, things are so good that it almost feels like I’m dreaming half of the time. Life is good: the kids are happier than they’ve ever been, and Clay is sleeping through the night without any night terrors.

  I can’t remember a time when things have been this peaceful; not only at home, but at work too.

  Things are better than they have ever been with Harmony. Sometimes your mind plays tricks on you, telling you that the grass is always greener on the other side. Only, she was always meant to be the side that I was on. She’s the one person that has always understood me like no other.

  We laugh hard, smile hard, and argue hard. But the making up? It was always beyond this world. There hasn’t been a day that has gone by since the art show that we haven’t talked, and there were only two days that we haven’t seen each other. Those two days were the hardest two days; not being able to see her face or hear her voice.

  We’ve been to shows, to dinner, taken the kids out to the park, and to the movies. Life is good… no… it’s great.

  But there’s still that little voice in the back of my mind telling me that the other shoe is sure to drop at some point—especially when I tell her why I left her a decade ago: why I walked away from her and didn’t look back. Or so she thinks.

  I cringe when I think about the things that I said to her, the words that have swirled around in my mind for the last ten years on repeat.

  “Mr. Carter?” I snap my head up, my eyes widening at all of the board members that sit around the large table. When I don’t answer, Catiya repeats. “Oliver?”

  I clear my throat. “Yes.” I shuffle forward, pulling the cuffs of my suit jacket down. “He’s coming in for a meeting.” I look around the table, capturing all of their eyes and trying to drive home how big of a deal this is. “He used our Pearl software at the last art show he did, and he wants us to make him specific software, tailored to him.”

  “Can we do that?” one of them asks.

  “Of course we can,” I assure them, trying not to roll my eyes. “But this sets a precedent; we need to branch out, we need to look at new and different ways that we can expand.”

  They murmur between themselves and I stand, doing the button up on my navy suit jacket before shoving my hands in my pockets and walking around the table, staring out of the windows.

  “Let me put it into perspective for you,” I say, stopping when I get to the middle window. “Oliver himself can bring us in over thirty million with this one deal. Not to mention the advertisement it brings with it.”

  I turn to face them all, catching Catiya’s gaze as she smiles.

  “This is the start of getting our name out there without putting all of our eggs in one basket. Our name won’t only be in the software world, it’ll be in the arts too. Oliver is a trendsetter, whatever he does, people follow like sheep.”

  “What are you saying, Tristan? That we’ll sell his software?” one of the board members asks.

  “No.” I shake my head, my eyes flitting over to where I was sitting when my cell vibrates. “Like I said, we tailor the software to fit his needs. If we get it right? Imagine all of the other clients we could bring in. We could double or even triple our profits by making different kinds of software we can take to the open market.”

  I walk back around the table, seeing Harmony’s name flicker on my screen.

  “I’m going to run with it.” I pick my cell up, smiling and shaking my head, seeing that she’s changed the chat colors again. “I’m meeting with Oliver now.”

  “What will the outgoing costs be?” another board member asks.

  I lean against the table, crossing my arms. “Ten percent of the profits.”

  A few gasps go around the room and I capture lots of cynical faces. “The software will take minimal work. We’ll need to put a specific team on it, but I already have a few people in mind. And if they work their magic—like I know that they will—then we’re all set.”

  “Sir?” Catiya catches my attention and I turn to where she’s standing at the door. “Mr. Hunt is here.”

  I nod and face the board. “Let’s discuss this further tomorrow.”

  “We still haven’t discussed Pete.”

  My nostrils flare at the sound of his name and I turn back around slowly, grinding my teeth together before saying, “There’s nothing more to talk about.” I pause. “He’s been trying to drag my name through the mud, but does it look like his desperate attempts are working?”

  I raise a brow, waiting for an answer, but when I don’t get one, I shake my head and leave the room before unlocking my cell as I walk and send Harmony a message, telling her that she’s color bipolar before pushing through to my office.

  “Mr. Hunt is waiting.” Catiya’s voice comes through the speaker on my desk and I walk forward, pocketing my cell and clicking the button to reply.

  “Send him in.”

  I lean against the front of my desk, my hands cupping the edge while I wait for the door to open and the flamboyant man to enter.

  He’s dressed in a pair of black coveralls, fluorescent paint splattered all over them. His face has a pink diagonal splatter across it, running across his nose and into his brown hair.

  “Mr. Carter.” He holds his hand out, shaking mine and then whistling as he looks out of the windows. “Some view you have here.” He stares at it in th
e same way that Harmony does when she’s working all of the colors and shapes out; almost depicting how he would paint it.

  “Would you like a drink?” I ask.

  “Oh! No, thanks, I can’t stay long. I’m in the zone.”

  “The zone?” I ask, lifting up off the desk and walking over to him.

  “Yeah,” he says slowly, moving his gaze to mine. “The zone.” He brings his hands out, trying to tell me something that I don’t understand. “It’s when your ideas are flowing and you can’t stop.”

  “Oh.”

  “I’ve been working for thirty-six hours straight. I need to get back ASAP.”

  “Okay, we’ll make this as brief as possible then.” I clear my throat, turning away and sitting down, waving my hand to a seat opposite me but he shakes his head, declining the offer. “So you want new software for an up-and-coming show?”

  “I do.” He looks out of the window and back at me again. “I want your best tech guys on it. They need to be able to bring to life what I’m envisioning.”

  “Done.”

  “Send them to my studio in three days at six a.m. I think I’ll be ready for them by then.”

  I stand up as he walks away, but I frown, baffled that the meeting has been so short. We could’ve done this over the phone.

  “Do you have a budget?”

  “Nope,” he says, pulling the door open and turning back to me. “I’ll pay as much as it takes. This show is gonna be big, Carter. Real fucking big.” He grins before he walks out, leaving me standing in the middle of my office, completely confused but excited about the new venture.

  Now all I need to do is get my best guys on it.

  HARMONY: Blue, yellow, or pink?

  I stand in the fancy dress shop, staring at all of the different assortment and styles on the racks in front of me. Who knew there’d be so many choices for an adult princess dress?

  I blow out a breath and scan them all: Cinderella, Snow White, Rapunzel... Elsa? Who the frig is Elsa?