“Amy,” I said, my voice rising in distress. “Amy, please… calm down and listen to me. You’ve got it all wrong.”
“Don’t talk to me like that. You listen to me.” There were unrestrained tears rolling down her cheeks now. “I know you run an investment firm, but I’m not fucking stock. You can’t put a little money into me, and get a shit ton out. What, did you think, oh, I guess I can spend one week with this girl, if it means I can have my dad’s fortune when he dies? Don’t you see how fucked up that is?”
I studied her, anger rising in my own stomach. I didn’t want to hear what she was saying. It was fueling my own self-doubts.
“Even… even if that were the case,” I said, stepping toward her. “You agreed. I never forced you to do this. You’re the one doing it for money, not me.”
“Are you… are you kidding me? Are you trying to blame me?” Amy spat. “You know what, maybe you’re right. Look at me, selling my time and my body—does that make me a fucking prostitute? Is that all I am to you? You’re worse than I thought.”
“That’s not… you’re twisting my words.”
“You manipulated me. You made me think that I was something treasured, something to be cherished. You made me feel priceless, even though you clearly put a price on me. Fifty-fucking-thousand dollars. That’s a lot, I admit it. More than I ever would have thought I was worth. But that’s the hardest part for me to deal with. Your intentions were right in front of me, and I was too caught up in you to realize it.”
I was quiet for a few moments, trying to compose myself. My vision was blurred and it took me a second to realize that my eyes were filled with tears. I blinked them furiously away, turning from Amy so she couldn’t see.
“You know,” she said. “I get it. I hate it, but I get it. It was too easy. I made it easy. And it was exhilarating. And it was crazy enough that it might work. It would give both of us a story to tell. I’d spend the rest of my life reminiscing about the week I got to spend in luxury, and you’d be at the bar, telling your buddies how you used this gullible, poor girl to double your money.”
“That’s not it,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “I don’t care about the money.”
“You’re really going to stick to the ‘helping a guy die happy’ line?”
“I don’t… Amy. At the beginning, it might have been about something different. Not money. I couldn’t care less about money. I thought you understood that about me, but apparently not. In any case. It’s different now.”
“So? What’s it about, then? What’s changed?”
“You!” I exclaimed. “Goddamn it, Amy. It’s about you. I don’t know what you’ve done to me, but I don’t know how I’m ever going to go back. It’s like you ripped out my eyes and gave me new ones. I can see better, but only… only when you’re here. You’re my glasses.”
“That’s…” Her lips trembled, and she looked at the ground. Her anger disappeared for a moment, replaced by sadness and doubt, which was worse. I watched her expression shifting as she fought with her thoughts. I understood what she was thinking—she heard my words, understood them, but wasn’t letting herself believe it. She still didn’t think she was all that she was. “Don’t try to romance me now, Derek. It won’t work.”
“Please, Amy. I need you.” I tried to reach out to her, but the moment my hands touched her shoulders, she yanked away.
“I’ll stay for the rest of the week,” she said, her voice flat and robotic. “Not for you. For Walter. I can’t stand to hurt him. But I don’t want to see you otherwise. And I sure as hell don’t want anything from you.” She turned and opened the door. “Enjoy your inheritance, asshole.”
I couldn’t say anything else. I watched the door shut behind her.
Everything went numb. I sat down on the edge of the bed, burying my face in my hands as I tried to calm myself.
Her words kept replaying in my mind, each one a stinging needle. I had been in plenty of arguments, with family, coworkers, friends, girlfriends. It was always easy to brush them off and keep going. Never, ever had I felt this level of hurt, this gaping loss.
I fucked up, I thought. And I don’t know if I can fix it.
How could I have said the things I said to her? ‘You’re the one doing it for money.’ I felt like shooting myself. I knew that Amy was the last person with financial motives. She was here because she genuinely cared to help me. And I had ruined that. Ruined the best thing that had ever happened in my life.
I wasn’t sure that there was any coming back from this.
She was wrong. I never had any intent of tricking my father to get his money. But I understood, now that I looked at the big picture, how she could have made that mistake. After all, I hadn’t told her about my father’s ultimatum. Secrecy was suspicious. If I were in her place, I would have assumed the exact same thing.
“What have you done?” I groaned out loud, shaking my head. Not something that could be easily undone, I knew—but I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t try. I couldn’t let Amy be that great ‘if only’ in my life, that unending, unanswerable question, a regret that chased me all the way to my grave. I knew that she was very close to becoming just that, and I had one chance, and one chance alone, to fix this.
Chapter 15
Amy
Hours passed, and I was still angrier than I had ever been in my life.
How could he do this? One part of me lamented. The other half scolded myself. How could you fall for that?
I could hardly wrap my head around it all. Derek, for all his charm, had used me. He didn’t want me. He wanted the inheritance. I was nothing to him but another step on a ladder.
But it didn’t make sense. There was no way, after everything I had seen and heard and felt, that this was just a scheme, that it was all fake. I didn’t want to accept that. If I did, it would break me.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” I started to cry again, and hated myself for it. “You’re stronger than this, Amelia. Stop being dumb.”
“Oh, dear. It sounds like someone’s not very happy.” Aneta appeared behind me. I jumped at the sound of her voice.
“I’m okay,” I said. I definitely didn’t sound okay. I wasn’t fooling anyone.
“Did Derek do something?” Aneta said, rubbing my back. “That boy. He’s a handful. Trust me, I practically raised him. Little devil.”
I half-laughed, half-sobbed. “I just don’t… I don’t think he actually likes me. Not as much as I like him. Which sounds really childish, when I say it out loud.”
“I understand, dear,” she said. “I understand, but I think you’re wrong. You’re probably just feeling a bit emotional, given the circumstances.”
I glanced at her in surprise, and she nodded.
“Mr. Rittsman told me,” she explained. “He was very, very excited. He’s been telling everyone he sees, actually. He’s not a very good secret keeper.”
Oh, that’s not good. “No,” I said. “I don’t think… I don’t think it’s the hormones. Even if it were, that doesn’t cancel out what I’m feeling—I still feel it.”
“And what do you feel, dear?”
“Like I’m just a tool to him,” I said. “Like he’s using me for his own gain.”
“Oh, if you think that, you don’t really know the boy at all.” Aneta patted my shoulder. “Derek is the most selfless man I’ve ever known. He was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, sure, but never took a penny for granted. He doesn’t care for money, he cares for people. He cares for his family and his friends. He thinks with his heart, not his mind. He gets himself into trouble by being too considerate, never by being greedy.”
“Yeah, but…” I stuttered, realizing Aneta was right. For the few days I’d been with Derek, I’d gotten to know him fairly well. I didn’t believe he was the sort of person I had accused him of being.
And I didn’t give him a chance to explain himself. The tears welled up in my eyes again as I realized how impulsively and recklessly I had lashed out a
t him. It was as if I had been looking for something that would ruin the happiness that I had found.
Aneta tapped my cheek. “It’s okay dear. Couples fight. It’s how they make up, though, that is what makes them stronger. I am sure that if you tell Derek what has you so upset, he will be quick to ease your concerns.”
“Thank you,” I said to Aneta. I knew what I had to do. “Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome. Now, go on. Go talk to the boy.”
I hurried up the stairs, hoping he was in his bedroom. I was still unsure what his motives were, but I owed him the chance to explain himself. He deserved that, after everything he had given me.
He was out on the balcony, pacing, distraught and miserable. I watched him for a moment, before calling out to him. He swung toward me.
“Amy,” he breathed, relieved to see me. He stopped, though, in the balcony doorway, uncertain. “I’m so sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry. I should have given you the chance to explain,” I said, my voice quiet. “I was hasty and I shouldn’t have been so angry. I’m willing to listen, now, if you still want to talk.”
I went out onto the balcony with him and leaned against the ledge. Derek sat down on the chair.
“I should have told you the whole truth,” he admitted. “You were right to be angry. I know how it must look. I’d be surprised if you’d reacted any other way. But you have to know, Amy, it’s a huge misunderstanding.”
“Okay.” I swallowed, trying my best to maintain my composure.
“I’m going to be completely honest with you. More honest than I’ve ever been with anyone, maybe even myself. You’ll probably laugh at me. It’s pitiful really.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
“Thank you.” He shifted in the chair. “You already know that my father and I have never had a good relationship. I didn’t see him much when I was a kid. When I started working for him at the company, I was around him a lot more often, but that turned out badly. Everything I did seemed to be the wrong thing to him. He was never happy. Amy, I ignored all of my aspirations and dreams in life to follow in his footsteps. I wanted to do so much more. But I didn’t. I took over control of the firm after him, and I made sure I was damn good at it. And my father… he didn’t care. It still wasn’t good enough for him.”
Listening to him, my heart started to ache. His sorrow was deep, genuine. All I could feel now was sympathy.
“So,” Derek said, his eyes focused on something far away. “For a long time, I just dealt with it. One day, I thought, one day I’ll impress him. I just kept doing whatever I thought would make him happy. But then, he got sick. Really sick. Six-months-to-live sick. And I still hadn’t done enough. Quite the opposite—he seemed more and more disappointed in me every day. It exploded last week. He was so angry about my biggest shortcoming—my failure to produce an heir for the company. He thought he was punishing me by taking away the inheritance, but I didn’t care about that at all. I’ve made more than enough money on my own to sustain my lifestyle. I don’t need any more. The worst part was that he had given me such an impossible task to accomplish. There was no way that I could make him happy and earn his approval before—uh, you know.”
I was beginning to understand.
“That’s when I met you, Amy. I hadn’t been interested in dating, when suddenly you came along and I couldn’t stop thinking about you. After that great first night I came up with this plan. I didn’t tell you the whole truth because I didn’t want you to think it was about the money. But I was also… ashamed, I suppose, about this need I have to impress my father. And it might be a shitty thing to lie to him. I admit that. But I don’t know what else I can do. If he dies disappointed in me—I, I don’t know if I can handle that. I’ve dedicated my whole life to that man—trying to satisfy him, to make him proud of me—and I’m running out of time.”
I stayed quiet for a while, mulling over his words.
“You know, Derek,” I said, “I never met my father. He left my mom before I was born. My sister Abby has only fuzzy memories of him. From what she can remember, he was caring and affectionate. But one day, he just left. My mom was eight months pregnant with me.”
“Shit, Amy. That’s rough.”
“I’ve always blamed myself.”
“No. You weren’t even born.”
“Yeah. I know it’s irrational. But I can’t help but thinking that he didn’t want me, that he was so daunted by the idea of having another kid that he ran away. My family was really, really poor, and having another child was a strain on their relationship. In any case, I have no clue what happened to him, and I’ve always had these… these fantasies, I suppose you could call them. Of what it would have been like to have a father. Or what I would say to him if I found him. I don’t know if I would scream or cry or hug him and never let go. But, to be honest, I kind of think I might just look at him and feel nothing. It would be like looking at a stranger.”
Derek stood up and took my hand, comforting me. I shook my head.
“I’m not looking for any pity,” I said, shrugging. “I mean, I’m pretty used to it. I don’t even think about him that often. It doesn’t hurt like it used to. But being here, being with Walter, talking with him… it has given me a glimpse of what it’s like to have a father. And I love it. I love him.”
I turned away from Derek. “In any case. I understand, Derek, now that you’ve explained it. Because, if my father was around, there is nothing in this world I wouldn’t try to do to impress him, to make him proud of me—because I’ve spent so much of my life believing that I am the one who drove him away. You’ve got your father, and you’re doing everything you can for him. That makes a lot of sense to me. I wish I had the chance to do the same thing for my dad, but helping you is the next best thing.”
“I’m sorry about your father,” Derek said. “And I’m sorry I wasn’t straight with you. But this whole week, getting to know you, it has been incredible. It’s been so much more than fixing my relationship with my dad. It’s been about building the relationship I’ve started with you. You’re not just a pawn in a game I’m playing. You have become extremely important to me.”
I studied him, searching for any hint of a lie. Nothing. He meant every word.
I fell into his arms, embracing him as tightly as I could. He returned the gesture, squeezing me in his grip, making me feel safe again.
“I’m curious about something,” I said.
“About what, beautiful?”
“You said you had other dreams, besides running the investment firm. If you could have done anything, what would you have done?”
Derek blushed, shaking his head. “Oh, I don’t know.”
“Derek Rittsman,” I said, sitting up, “you definitely know. I can see it in your eyes. What did you want to be when you grew up?”
“It’s embarrassing,” he said, “and unrealistic.”
“So? I told you my dream, and you helped me. You bought me a camera. So now it’s my turn. I’ll help you.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Tell me!”
“Fine!” He threw up his arms. “A painter. I wanted to be a painter.”
Now, that took me by surprise. I laughed a bit. “Really?”
“Yeah. I actually went to art school.”
“And what happened?”
“Well, for one thing, my father wouldn’t speak to me. And for another, I flunked out. It was a rough few years.”
I grinned. “The things you find out about people. Wow. I never would have expected that. Do you still paint?”
He nodded sheepishly. “Every now and then.”
“Do you have any of your art here?”
“I see where you are headed with this, Amy. No. Absolutely not. I never, ever show any of my drawings or paintings to anyone. They’re off limits.”
“Please,” I cooed, kissing his cheek. “I want to see!”
His lips twitched. “You will laugh. It’s not good. I’m not good.�
�
“I doubt that you’re that bad. Come on.” I jumped up from his lap, tugging on his hand. “I’ll make it worth your while.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”
“Yes. Now, show me the art.”
“Well, it’s a room. An art room. I have a studio here.”
“What? And you’ve been hiding it from me?”
Derek chuckled. “If you want to look at it like that. There are a lot of rooms in this building.”
I rolled my eyes. “Excuses. Lead the way, Picasso.”
Chapter 16
Derek
I couldn’t believe I was about to show my art to Amy. I had never shown anyone this room—I’d even insisted that Aneta need not go in to clean it. Now here I was unlocking it, Amy giggling behind me. God, this woman, she could get me to do anything at the bat of an eye.
She had forgiven me, and that was more than I could ever ask for. She listened to me, understood me, and even empathized with me. I wasn’t used to being so emotionally open with someone.
“Remember, you promised you wouldn’t laugh,” I said, as I put my hand on the door knob. “And I warned you. I’m really quite a hack.”
“Yeah, yeah. Just let me in.”
Sighing, I opened the door. Amy practically skipped in, bouncing with excitement.
The room was chaotic. Canvases—some blank, some half-filled, and others complete were sitting here and there. There were paintbrushes, paint bottles, notebooks, pencils, and art tools strewn about, on tables, shelves, even on the floor. One wall consisted entirely of windows, rendering a fantastic view of the property, and giving the room ideal natural lighting.
“Jesus. I thought you were an organized person,” Amy remarked, stepping over a collapsed easel.
“In most parts of my life, I am. I guess this is where I… unleash everything.”
“Interesting.”
I watched nervously as Amy walked about the room, stopping at each and every one of the canvasses and studying it, as if she were the world’s most speculative art critic. Finally, she completed her tour around the room.
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