Work of Art

by Monica Alexander

  “But it was my mistake to make, and if Harper and I didn’t make it, then that was on us. It wasn’t a family decision. I’d already made the choice to raise my baby with Harper, and you and Mom and Dad took that option away from me!”

  “Ryan,” she whined, but I knew she was out of ammunition. And I was pretty sure she was finally seeing the light, but I wasn’t done.

  “Lisa, I know it was hard for you when Maddie was first born. She was colicky, and you didn’t get a lot of sleep, and I’m sorry, but James is an ass. I know he’s your husband, but he kind of sucks at it, and he wasn’t exactly supportive back then. But that doesn’t mean it would have been that way for Harper and me. I loved her so much. You can’t think that what you did is right.”

  She shook her head, her shoulders dropping. “I know. I know that now, and I realize how emotional I was that day, and there have been so many times over the years that I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t. How was I supposed to tell you that I’d kept such a huge secret from you? And after a while, it just seemed like too much time had passed. I knew you’d hate me if you ever found out.”

  Yeah, that was pretty spot on.

  “You should have told me,” I said firmly. “Come on, Lisa, you have kids. You know how it is. How would you feel if no one told you that Maddie was yours, and then you found out a decade later that she died of a heart condition when she was three and you never even knew she was sick because your family kept her existence a secret from you? Huh? And you never got to hold her and tell her you loved her, because your family thought that was best. How fucked up is that, Lisa?”

  She gasped in a breath and covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes going wide at my revelation.

  “That’s right,” I confirmed. “My son, who I never wanted to give up, died when he was a little boy, and I never got the chance to know him. So fuck you and fuck Mom and Dad for being selfish. You’re right, I do hate you. I’m done. Don’t call me, don’t talk to me, and don’t even look in my direction. You are no longer my family.”

  I walked away before she could respond, storming toward the men’s room so I could get my shit together and go back to the party. But I was fuming. I wasn’t sure how I’d feel when I confronted my family about what they’d done, but a part of me thought I’d feel relief. But I didn’t. I felt worse, because now I knew their betrayal had been legitimate, and I fucking hated every last one of them for ripping away something that was mine.

  “Ryan?” Trish called into the men’s room after I’d been in there for five minutes.

  “Yeah,” I said, having calmed down tremendously, but I still wasn’t ready to rejoin the party.

  “Everyone’s sitting down. They’re about to serve the salads.”

  “Okay. I’ll be right there.”

  “Are you okay?” she asked, concern lacing her tone. She probably thought I had cold feet.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” I said, adding false cheer to my voice, because I didn’t want her to worry.

  I took a deep breath and emerged from the bathroom with a forced smile on my face. She smiled up at me.

  “Hi,” she said softly.

  “Hi,” I said, leaning down to kiss her and feeling comfort in just having her there with me. I looped my arms around her waist and looked down at her. “So how are you feeling about tomorrow?”

  She smiled nervously. “Anxious. Excited. Afraid I’ll trip as I’m walking up the aisle.”

  I laughed, and it felt awkward but good to do so. All I had to do was exercise mind over matter, and I’d be able to get through the weekend. And then I never had to see my parents or my sister again. And I needed to tell John what they’d done, because quite frankly, if they did something that heinous to me, they could do it to him too.

  “You won’t trip,” I assured Trish, looking down into her sparkling blue eyes.

  She smiled at me, and I knew she was putting her future happiness in my hands. I could see the excitement and loyalty and love she felt for me written all over her face, and I wanted nothing more in that moment than to make her happy. I just hoped I wouldn’t let her down.

  * * *

  Four hours later, dinner ended, Trish kissed me goodbye, told me she’d see me at the altar, and I was able to escape back up to my room. I wanted to have a drink and go to bed. But before I could get there, I was ambushed by two very drunk people who dragged me into their room and unceremoniously shoved me down onto their couch.

  Harper fell next to me, her long hair sweeping over her shoulder and her strawberry scented shampoo assaulting me.

  “Hi Ry,” she giggled. “How are you? Did you have a nice night?”

  God, I loved when she called me Ry.

  “Sure, it was great.”

  “Oh, you are no fun. Bartender, get this man a shot!” she called out to Brandon who appeared with a bottle of tequila.

  “Head back, Ryan,” he commanded, and I tilted my head back and opened my mouth, hoping I might be able to get numb with enough alcohol. Then I might not feel anything, and that would be preferable to the hell I was going through at the moment.

  I swallowed the cold liquid he poured down my throat, and while it was still burning my esophagus, I said, “Again.”

  “Yea!” Harper cheered. “Let’s get the groom drunk.”

  “Yes, let’s,” I said, opening my mouth for Brandon to pour another shot down my throat.

  “I knew you were fun. I knew it,” Harper said, poking me hard in the shoulder. I noticed she’d changed into cutoff denim shorts and a gray hoodie, and it made her look years younger.

  “You look like my high school girlfriend,” I told her, as the alcohol started to seep into my bloodstream on top of the few glasses of wine I’d had at dinner.

  And all of a sudden, all I could do was breathe out slowly and try to find some sort of center, because she had me going all off-kilter. My eyes glanced at the stars trailing down her neck and disappearing somewhere beneath her hoodie, and I all I wanted to do was reach out my hand and touch them, follow the trail, and see where it took me. And that was so wrong on so many levels.

  “Well that’s because I was,” she said jovially as she took the tequila bottle off of the coffee table and took a swig. “Lime me!”

  Instantly, Brandon was standing in front of her with a wedge of lime between his teeth, and I watched in surprise and a crap load of jealousy as she kissed it out of his mouth. All I could think was, they’d better not sleep together tonight.

  “Damn, that girl kisses good,” he said, and I glared at him. I was well-aware of how well she kissed.

  Then Harper snuggled up against me, wrapped her arms around my waist, and laid her head on my chest.

  “I’m going to miss you, Ry,” she said, as she danced her fingers up my chest, and fuck if I didn’t start to get hard from just that simplest of gestures. “And we’ve only just become friends again. Talk about crappy timing. When you go off on your honeymoon, who will Brandon and I hang out with?”

  “I’m sure Julian will hang out with you guys,” I suggested, consciously avoiding her other statements. She was right. The timing completely sucked.

  “I like that guy,” Brandon said. “Dude, are you sporting wood?”

  I realized his eyes were on my gray dress pants and followed his gaze to the bulge apparent to anyone in the room.

  Harper, still wrapped around me and still causing me to sport said wood, followed his gaze and giggled. “Ryan, that’s really funny.”

  I pushed her off of me, hating to do it, but it was the only way I could make it go away. Then I reached down and readjusted myself as best I could.

  “It’s cool,” Brandon chimed in then. “My boy hasn’t had sex in almost three months, so he’s like a fourteen year-old boy – horny as shit with no one to fuck.”

  “It’s been longer for me,” Harper said sweetly, “but I also don’t have a fiancé. Why aren’t you having sex, Ryan?”

  I sighed and shook my head. “We’re waitin
g until our wedding night, so it can be more special,” I deadpanned, well-aware of how bitter I sounded.

  And to top it all off, Brandon and Harper were laughing at me. Fucking great.

  It was then that I picked up the bottle of tequila and took a big swig. It was my last night as a free man, and I was dealing with some shit. Screw mind over matter. I was getting hammered.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Harper

  I woke up the morning of Ryan’s wedding wedged in between him and Brandon, with a mouthful of cotton and a headache that made my brain feel like it was splitting in two, and my first thought was that I’d had a threesome with the two guys sharing my bed. But then I realized I was fully clothed, and aside from the morning wood pressed against my lower back, I was pretty sure I hadn’t seen any action the night before.

  But good Lord had we been drunk.

  I was fairly sure there had been some swimming in the hotel pool at around three in the morning, followed by pizza eating on the deck and more tequila drinking, and that had all been after a rousing game of Never Have I Ever that got a little out of control, but it hadn’t been as bad as the three of us doing impromptu karaoke in our room to People Like Us by Kelly Clarkson after Ryan declared it the misfit’s national anthem and crowned the three of us misfits.

  And I’d kissed Brandon multiple times when attempting to get lime wedges out of his mouth.

  But I hadn’t kissed Ryan, although I was pretty sure it wouldn’t have been hard to do. He kept glaring at us in almost a jealous sort of way every time Brandon limed me. But Ryan had been fantastically drunk, and so much fun when he wasn’t glaring at us, so I wouldn’t hold it against him. He’d completely cut loose, and I had a feeling he didn’t do that often, so I was willing to cut him some slack.

  “Mmm,” Ryan said, as he stirred in front of me, and I slowly moved the arm that was draped over his chest so he wouldn’t know it had been there.

  Then Brandon’s arm snaked around my waist and pulled me back against his chest, as he started kissing my neck.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, practically jumping a mile in the process.

  “Ow, shit! What the fuck was that?” Ryan growled, and I realized I’d clipped him in the head with my elbow.

  “Sorry,” I said, reaching out to rub the spot I’d smacked, but he pulled away from me.

  “Oh, shit,” Brandon said sleepily. “You are not who I expected to be in my bed. Sorry, Harper.”

  “What the hell happened last night?” Ryan cursed, rubbing the back of his head.

  I sat up and appraised the two of them. “You and Brandon hooked up, and I watched, and maybe I masturbated a little. It was really hot.”

  “Damn,” Brandon said, his eyes still closed. “Is that why my ass hurts. We promised we’d never do that again, Ry. What was the big idea?”

  “What?” Ryan asked, his face draining of all color as he sat up straight in bed, and Brandon reached blindly for him. “Get the fuck off me, man.”

  “That’s not what you were saying last night,” Brandon teased him.

  “I think Ryan wanted to get his homoerotic tendencies out of his system one last time before tying the knot,” I suggested, fighting like hell to hold back my giggles.

  “Man, I’m gonna miss the way you scream out my name while making love to me,” Brandon said with a straight face, and I nearly lost it.

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” Ryan asked, jumping up from the bed and standing a good five feet away, his eyes darting back and forth between us. “We did not hook up last night or ever.”

  He was trying his hardest to sound in control, but I could hear the doubt and knew he couldn’t remember anything from the night before.

  “Sure we did. Remember that night in Cancun?”

  “No,” Ryan said vehemently. Then he looked to me for validation that he wasn’t crazy, but I just shrugged since I hadn’t been with them in Cancun, so he sunk down on the sofa. “Please tell me I was not so drunk last night that I cheated on my fiancé with a dude.”

  At that, and at seeing the despair written all over his face, I couldn’t hold back any longer.

  “We are totally screwing with you,” I told him, and he looked so relieved in that moment that I picked up my camera from the coffee table and shot a few pictures of him. We’d taken countless pictures the night before, and I was honestly afraid to look back at them and see something I’d forgotten about. I’d give it time and then look when I needed a good laugh.

  “You guys suck,” Ryan said, getting up and pulling his pants on.

  I snapped some more shots of him, and he glared at me.

  From where he was still half-asleep on the bed, Brandon held out his arm to fist-bump me, and I returned it as Ryan tried to locate his shirt. And I tried not to stare. I’d gotten an eyeful the day before when he’d woken up at my apartment shirtless, and I’d stared at him until he’d woken up, relishing in his masculine, chiseled chest but knowing I couldn’t touch.

  “Where are you going?” I asked, as he shoved his cell phone in his back pocket and headed for the door.

  He leaned his forehead against the door and turned enough so he could look at me. “Back to bed. I need to look presentable in five hours, and right now I feel like I got run over by a truck.”

  “That’s cause you did, bro,” Brandon mumbled from the bed. “And Jose Cuervo was driving.”

  Brandon chuckled at his own joke.

  “Ignore him,” I said, as Ryan left the room, telling us he’d see us at the church.

  I crawled back in bed with Brandon and fell asleep until we had to get up to get dressed for the ceremony.

  * * *

  Walking into that church was harder than I’d ever imagined it to be, because up until that point, I hadn’t really wrapped my head around the fact that Ryan was getting married. Over the past few weeks I’d rediscovered so much of my past, and in doing so, rediscovered him. But now it was all changing.

  Even during the rehearsal dinner as he’d sat with his fiancé, and held her hand, and told everyone how lucky he was to be marrying her, I hadn’t actually believed him. I hadn’t actually pictured that he’d walk down the aisle, say his vows, and be married.

  But he was getting married, to a girl who was very sweet, but she didn’t make his eyes sparkle, she didn’t challenge him, and I was pretty sure she held him back from being who he truly wanted to be. And because of that, never again would we have a night like we’d had the night before or the night before that. It was too late for us.

  The words to a Taylor Swift song that Julian made me listen to resonated in my mind, and I laughed internally at the idea of standing up and telling the entire congregation that Ryan was marrying the wrong girl, because I knew I would never do it. I wasn’t that kind of girl.

  And even though I felt something very real for him, he obviously had his reasons for going through with this wedding, and I couldn’t stop him. I wouldn’t do that. I’d sit quietly and be happy for him, because that was what you did for people you loved.

  Brandon held my hand as we walked through the doors. The church was practically empty because it was an hour before the ceremony, so I sat in the back and read the program that had been given to me on the way in, and Brandon went to look for Ryan somewhere in the back of the church.

  Forty minutes until the start of the ceremony.

  I picked up my camera and scrolled through the pictures I’d taken at the rehearsal the night before, realizing I’d inadvertently taken many more of Ryan than I ever should have. There were ones of his eyes, his face, his smile, and full body shots of him listening to the minister or joking with Brandon and his brother. And after those pictures were the ones from the night before that I didn’t remember taking, some I hadn’t taken since I’d been in them, and some that I refused to look at for more than a few seconds because they were of Ryan and me.

  I turned my camera off, set it down and then quickly picked it back up. I realize
d then that I was on the verge of losing a guy for the second time that I still held onto some pretty strong feelings for, and for some reason, I needed to be back in those moments when we’d been connected, because sitting alone in that church, waiting for Ryan to say ‘I do’ to someone who wasn’t me was practically eating me alive.

  I stopped on a shot of Ryan and me together on the couch in my hotel room. He was talking, and I was listening and smiling, and Brandon had snapped it at the right moment to capture such amazing expressions in our eyes. I could see so much written on his face that I both loved and hated to see it. He had feelings for me. That was apparent. I’d been capturing stills of people long enough to know how to read what they were thinking, and Ryan Carson had been thinking things that were definitely not appropriate for someone who was going to walk down the aisle the next day.

  Thirty minutes until the start of the ceremony.

  I put my camera away and started to watch as people began to enter the church and were shown to their seats. I looked at my watch. Then I smoothed the fabric of my pink dress as it flared over my thighs, the bright pink crinoline beneath it peeking out just enough to make it sexy. I pulled my cream-colored cardigan tighter around me. It was cold in the church, or maybe it was just me.

  Twenty minutes until the start of the ceremony.

  “Hi,” a voice said a few minutes later, and I looked up to see Ryan standing there in his tux looking incredibly handsome.

  “Well, you look very nice,” I told him, taking the high ground.

  “I feel like shit,” he said, a grin creeping up on his face. “I may vomit all over the altar if I’m not careful.”

  “Just don’t vomit on your bride, and you’ll be good.”

  He smiled, but it looked strained.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, as I looked up to see a few couples walk into the church. Brandon, who was serving as a seating usher, showed them to the front of the church and winked at me as he walked past.