Eight Ways to Ecstasy

by Jeanette Grey

  Kate’s father had seemed too good to be true at one point, too. How many times had her mom told her that? He’d been sweet and charming, and she’d known…She’d known there was no reason for a guy like that to fall for a girl like her. It’d taken him years to show his ugly side, and even then, it’d been tiny things. Little preferences and offhanded compliments that slowly evolved over time until they were demands and insults, until by the end, Kate and her mom had both felt like captives in their own damn home. Unable to question, always tiptoeing around. Too terrified to leave, because they were too stupid, too flighty, how would they ever manage alone…

  Kate dug her nails into the meat of her hand. Clenched them there until it hurt, until it felt like it would bleed.

  “He’s not Dad,” she said, the words torn from her mouth.

  How many times had Rylan told her she was incredible? That he admired the work she did and the way she saw the world, that she deserved the very best…

  But her mom just kept gazing at her, and her eyes went sad. “Not yet he’s not.”

  She got up then, while Kate’s mouth was still hanging open. Kate watched in dumb silence as she opened up her suitcase and pulled out her things to get ready for bed. The door to the bathroom closed behind her with an echoing ring.

  But still Kate sat there. Her mother was wrong. She had to be.

  Chapter NINETEEN

  “So what about you?”

  Kate sat across from her mother, picking at the last of her lunch. They’d spent the morning shopping in Williamsburg and had stopped in at one of Kate’s favorite little cafés for a bite.

  Her mother frowned. “What about me?”

  “We spent the whole day yesterday with my boyfriend.” It still felt so strange to call Rylan that. So unreal. “Just wondering if there’s anyone special in your life.”

  Her mother never mentioned anyone she was seeing when they talked on the phone, and in general, Kate didn’t press. But in person it was different.

  Her mother made a face and set her fork down. “I really don’t have any interest in dating. You know that.”

  “Things change.” Kate hadn’t thought it strange that her mother didn’t date while Kate was still in school, though she’d wished sometimes that she would. Those first couple of years after her father had left had been a breath of fresh air, the two of them just stretching their wings after so long in a cage, and that freedom alone had been enough for both of them. Things had been good after that, too, but there’d been a growing loneliness to her mother, one even the new passel of girlfriends she’d made since the divorce couldn’t quite seem to touch. Once Kate was out of the house, she’d figured her mom would branch out more. But it had been four years now, and nothing.

  Kate’s mother shook her head. “I don’t know if this will.”

  “Is it—” Kate caught herself before she could blurt out the question on her tongue. It was relevant, though, wasn’t it? How long had she held herself back because…“Is it Dad?”

  She laughed. “Your father hasn’t had a say in my life in a decade.”

  Except he had, hadn’t he? His voice still lingered in the back of Kate’s mind. Still held sway over her and her decisions to an extent she never would have expected.

  Not until Rylan had come along. Not until he’d listened to the whole sad story of her life and her father and the failed relationships that had followed in his wake. He’d heard it all and held her as she cried and told her she deserved so much better than she’d gotten. He’d made her start to believe that.

  “I don’t know.” Kate dropped her gaze to what was left of her sandwich. “I mean, he messed with my head pretty bad.” And here she had to tread carefully, because this wasn’t about blame. “He must have messed with yours even worse.”

  Her mom sighed. “I don’t really want to talk about this, Kate.”

  “Well, maybe you should. If not with me then with someone.”

  “Kate.”

  And Kate knew that tone. She was overstepping.

  Finally, her mother’s hand extended across the table to close over hers. “I promise you. I am happy with my life. I don’t need a man to make it complete.”

  Kate had never doubted that. Once after Aaron, and then again after the mess with Rylan that summer, Kate herself had resolved to never let a man get close to her again. Both times, she’d done it out of pain, and out of fear.

  She turned over her palm and squeezed her mother’s fingers, lifting her gaze to look her in the eye. “Okay. Just…I worry about you, you know?”

  She worried about her mother in that apartment all alone, making decisions around the parts of her life her father had burned to the ground.

  “I know. But I’m telling you: Don’t. I’m fine.”

  But her words were brittle. They didn’t set Kate any more at ease.

  They finished up what little was left of their lunches in relative silence and gathered up their things. As they stepped back out onto the sidewalk, her mother looked at her expectantly.

  “Where to next?”

  Neither of them had bought much, but Kate was mostly shopped out. Peering both ways down the street, she considered.

  “Actually.” She hesitated, patting the side of her bag. The weight stashed in the bottom of it had been an itch at the back of her mind all morning. It seemed selfish, though, using part of their limited time together to run an errand of her own. She chewed at her lip. Ugh, why was she so afraid to ask for things? It wasn’t as if her mom had proposed any ideas for what she wanted to do. “If you don’t mind too much, I was hoping to maybe take a quick detour?”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah.” She nodded toward the left and started walking. “There’s this project I’m working on for school. A series of paintings. I need some more reference photos for it.”

  Her mother fell into step beside her. “Sounds like fun to me. What’s the series about?”

  “Churches, mostly.”

  “Churches.” Her mother raised a brow.

  “I know, I know.” They’d never been terribly religious. “I didn’t pick the theme.”

  Except that she sort of had. The “Sacred Spaces” assignment might’ve been handed down from on high, but it was broad enough. Open to lots of interpretations. She’d been the one to decide to pursue it so literally. There was no one to blame for how poorly the project was going besides herself.

  Her mom shrugged. “Lead on.”

  It was a few short blocks to the big old cathedral she’d had in mind. It stood on the corner, gorgeous, gritty red brick standing out against the yellowing leaves and the bright blue autumn sky.

  As they approached, she handed her mom the one shopping bag she’d been carrying and dug out her camera. Her heart did a little stutter as she fiddled with the settings. Foolish, probably, bringing Rylan’s ancient film camera instead of her tiny digital one. But it had felt so right in her hands the previous morning as she’d used the lens to frame his body. As she’d mapped out the dips and ridges of his abdominals, the strong lines of his shoulders and jaw.

  Maybe, just maybe, the soulfulness of film would help her capture what she’d been missing in this whole project. Maybe it’d help her crack the thing wide open.

  She hunched down on the sidewalk to shoot up the height of the building, playing with the perspective and the depth of field. As she walked the length of the place, her mother stood to the side, letting her work.

  When she was done, she snapped the lens cap back on.

  Her mom stepped in closer. Her voice was quiet as she asked, “Did he give that to you?”

  Kate froze.

  For a second, her throat didn’t want to work. “Excuse me?”

  “It’s a nice camera. A really nice one.” And a softness had crept into her tone. “I used to do some photography, you know. Artsy stuff. Before you were born.”

  Her mother’s creativity had never been a secret. If anything, it had been a weapon. Her father’s words e
choed hotly through the years. She gets this shit from you, Carol.

  Kate nodded, her chest going tight.

  “That right there?” She tapped a finger against the top of the camera. “That’s the one I always dreamed of saving up enough for.”

  Oh.

  Her mother dropped her hand and her gaze. When she spoke again, it came as if from a long way away. “Back before we got married. Back before he convinced me to drop out of school. When things were still good…” She blew out a breath. “Your father gave me one of them, too.”

  It wasn’t as if Rylan had really expected Kate to need him while her mother was in town. He’d made the offer, though, and so he kept his phone a little closer to him than he might have otherwise. All it got him were a couple of pictures—one of a dress she was trying on that he wholeheartedly approved of, followed later that night by a selfie of her pouting while lying on what looked like an air mattress on her floor.

  It’d made his heart pang. Made his own perfectly comfortable bed feel entirely too large.

  By the time he headed in to the office on Monday, he still hadn’t heard anything of substance from her. With her mom scheduled to fly out soon, though, he had hope.

  In the meantime, he had plenty to do to keep him occupied. Reports to catch up on and phone calls to make.

  Terrible strategies to figure out how best to shoot down.

  He was just digging into the latest bullshit new business plan McConnell had been circulating around when Lexie swept into his office without so much as a by-your-leave.

  “So apparently in addition to being a douchebag, McConnell’s forgotten how to count.” She flopped down into one of the chairs opposite his desk with a dramatic sigh.

  Unruffled, Rylan kept his gaze on his computer screen. “Hello, sister dearest, how are you? I’m well.”

  “Save it, Teddy.”

  That got him to look up. He shot her a glare, and she rolled her eyes. She knew what she was doing.

  Glancing back over her shoulder toward the door, she crooked one finger in a beckoning motion. A guy Rylan hadn’t noticed unpeeled himself from the doorframe and made his way to join Lexie in the chair beside her.

  Rylan furrowed his brow. How had he not noticed that guy? He was big, nearly as tall as Rylan himself, but it was more than that. He had a quiet presence that about near filled the room.

  As soon as he let himself be seen in it.

  Lexie followed the guy with her gaze, and as he sat, she smirked at him, and oh hell. His sister hadn’t had a sexual harassment case filed against her yet, but Rylan had a whole new headache coming on. Their luck on that front might be about to run out.

  The guy was just her type, was the thing—as least based on the kinds of boys she’d used to sneak into the house. Short-cropped, ashy-brown hair, and under the lines of his suit, he was clearly built.

  And yet he was different, too. Had a certain kind of ruggedness that didn’t look like it came from a health club or a gym. One that didn’t quite mesh with the high-rise office in Manhattan, either.

  “Rylan?” She emphasized his name. “Have you met Dane?”

  “Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure.”

  Dane nodded. “Sir.”

  “I pulled him out of the temp pool to help us with our whole corporate takeover thing.”

  Rylan leveled her with his best you’ve got to be kidding me stare. “Really, Lex? You want to be that bald-faced about it?”

  “There’s no reason for her not to be, sir.” Dane shifted, pulling a piece of paper from the folio he’d been holding and sliding it across Rylan’s desk. He had a rough, low voice, and he spoke in unhurried tones. “Nobody else is at this point.”

  Rylan kept his gaze on him for a long moment before picking up the memo. As he read, his eyebrows crept higher and higher.

  “See what we mean?” Lex sat back in her chair.

  “Yeah.” He glanced up from the page. “Where did you get this?”

  “Dane found a copy lying around.”

  Rylan darted his gaze to the side. He had to give the guy credit—Dane didn’t so much as flinch at the obvious lie. Rylan shot his sister a pointed look. “We are going to have a talk later about adding corporate espionage to the corporate takeover thing.”

  Lexie waved a hand dismissively. “Focus.”

  Heaving a sigh, Rylan did just that.

  He read the private memo McConnell had sent out one last time before setting it down. “Well, he’s not being subtle.”

  Ninety days. That was the time period Rylan had proposed to the board, and that was what they had voted to accept. Ninety days until Rylan had to make a decision about where he wanted to go with the company next. Until his final chance to stop the interim board from becoming permanent.

  “This meeting McConnell’s calling for,” he said. “It’s in two weeks.”

  “He must think he has the support to keep you out.”

  Dane cleared his throat. “Actually.” He pulled out a tablet and opened up a calendar. “He must think the golf trip he offered to half of your supporters will be too tempting for them to bother to show up.”

  Rylan’s blood flashed hot. He curled his hands into fists. “He thinks he can buy them that cheap?”

  “Believe me, sir. It’s not cheap.”

  The pressure mounting behind Rylan’s temple grew. This was bullshit, was what it was.

  Those ninety days—he hadn’t realized how much he’d been counting on them.

  To get his head on straight. To figure out his life.

  To summon up the strength to face his father’s legacy.

  “Well,” he said, gritting his teeth. “It looks like our timetable is moving up.”

  After all of this was over, the first thing Kate was going to do was buy a calendar.

  With everything else going on, apparently her mother’s visit wasn’t the only thing she’d forgotten. She put her mom in a cab to the airport just after breakfast with about three seconds to spare before she was on an inbound train heading for campus.

  Her program was fairly hands-off, all told. There was a long list of credit requirements, of course, but the only really mandatory things she had to keep up with were her weekly seminars with the rest of her cohort.

  And her monthly meetings with her adviser.

  She was fully out of breath by the time she knocked on Professor Robinson’s office door. Professor Robinson was sitting on the floor in the middle of the room, gorgeous black-and-white monotype prints spread out on the carpet around her. She looked up, and a thin smile spread across her face.

  “Ah, Ms. Reid. Right on time.”

  A miracle, basically.

  Kate nodded, nerves making her hands fidget at her side. While she saw Professor Robinson in class regularly, this was only their second one-on-one. Who knew what she should expect.

  Professor Robinson regarded the prints in front of her again, then with a few graceful movements stacked them into a couple of piles and rose. For a few minutes, they made small talk about Kate’s classes and how she was settling in, but her professor didn’t make any move to sit, or invite Kate to do likewise. Finally, Professor Robinson gestured toward the door. “Well. Shall we see what you’re working on?”

  Oh, hell. This was the part Kate had been dreading.

  She was always shy about showing off her works in progress, and with how blocked she’d been since the semester had begun, her shyness had begun to approach a phobia. She hadn’t presented anything at critique in weeks, and the disappointment on her teachers’ faces had been growing and growing. But there was no more putting it off now.

  Like a woman on her way to the gallows, Kate led her professor to the painting studio. As she stood in front of the cubby where she stowed her canvases, her skin flashed hot and cold, all the voices she spent so much of her time trying to ignore ganging up on her at once. You don’t belong here, you’re no good at this, God why are you such a disaster…

  She pulled out wh
at little she had to show for herself, one terrible mess after another, and she lined them up against the wall. There were only a handful of people working in the studio, but she felt every single one of them, felt their gazes on her like searing brands, until she thought she’d burn up from the inside.

  She was going to get laughed at. Her professor would take one look at this train wreck and…and…rescind her admission. Kick her out on the street, and Kate had worked so hard to be here. She’d tried.

  But it wasn’t enough.

  “None of them are finished,” she hedged. Her hands were damp and clammy, her lungs tight.

  Professor Robinson waved off her concerns, walking the row of paintings with her hand at her mouth, a serious set to her eyes. Swallowing past the crawling anxiety that had her about ready to go out of her skin, Kate waited. Bit at the inside of her cheek to keep quiet and let the woman think.

  Finally, after what felt like hours, Professor Robinson tilted her head toward Kate, gaze still on the canvases laid out before her. “Walk me through what you’re thinking here.”

  “Well.” And Kate could do this. The whole point of going to school was to collaborate with people who knew what they were doing. To let them help her. “They’re for the Sacred Spaces project.”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  Concern colored that hum, and Kate’s stomach did another flip inside her abdomen. “And they’re…” Her frustration was bleeding over. She said this so often to herself in her head, but admitting it out loud was another thing altogether. It was inviting criticism, it was opening herself up to the censure that made her feel flayed open and like this little girl who was never enough, who kept messing up. She wrung her hands. Then finally spat out, “I hate them.”

  Professor Robinson’s head jerked around at that. For this fraction of a second, the cool, detached calm she radiated shivered, the corner of her mouth twitching. “Oh.”

  “I just.” And thank God she’d had the presence of mind to come at least a little bit prepared. She dug into her bag, fishing out her sketchbooks. “See.” The book on top was the one she’d finished in Montmartre, and she flipped it open to the final pages. “I took this trip to Paris this summer. A graduation present to myself.”