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My Way Back to You: New York Times Bestselling Author Page 5
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Page 5
“This is a surprise,” I said. It was a lie, but she didn’t need to know that.
“For both of us, I can assure you.” Those almond-shaped eyes cataloged my features. “You have a beard.”
My lips twitched. “Thanks for noticing.”
“Kind of impossible not to.”
Something bloomed inside me, ran through my blood like wildfire. A sense of belonging I couldn’t seem to find anywhere else, and I didn’t bother to try to suppress it.
Not this time.
I knew about the kid, but the boyfriend didn’t seem like a sure thing. I reminded myself that this was strictly business. I needed her in my corner for the sock company I wanted to open. I straightened, pushed off the frame, and walked past her, my hand up as if to lead the way.
“Let’s meet in the conference room.”
I didn’t want her inside my office. I didn’t need the scent of her perfume lingering or any of that magic weaseling her way into me long after she was gone. On my way over, I composed myself. This project was important; this project was for both Sam and me. Inside the conference room, everything was set up. I idled around the seat at the head of the table, my normal seat. It felt presumptuous to take the spot with Tessa here. A part of me wanted to offer it to her. I shook the thought away. Kid. Boyfriend. I took a seat across from where she stood. She was talking quietly to Chloe, who was swiping that digital clipboard as Sam took a seat to my right. Tessa kicked off the meeting by describing the four projects we were providing fabrics for. She went on to explain some ideas they’d come up with. What she knew was the fabrics that would work, and that was enough for me since it was the only thing I needed to know. Unfortunately, the fabric that stood out most was one of the ones the Colombian women had and refused to sell me. I wouldn’t bring that up yet. I’d work on it in private, and when I knew it was something I could bring to the table, I’d offer it. In the meantime, we’d have to go in a different direction. I could tell she knew what she wanted to do for the Spring Collection and the hotel, but the car seemed to be eating at her.
“Do you have a concept for it?” I asked once Tessa was finished speaking.
“No.” Her jaw clenched when she said it.
I bit back a smile. She was mad about this. I stood and walked over to her, not missing the way she took a step back and her eyes widened the way they always did when she thought I was going to do something crazy. My heart did a little skip. She was standing directly in front of the blueprint of the interior of the hotel and didn’t move when I stood beside her and my arm brushed against hers. I wondered if she felt the spark.
There was no way she didn’t feel the spark.
I splayed my hand on the paper and scanned it as if I had anything to do with the actual design or concept, which I didn’t.
“It’s a nice space to work with.”
“It is,” she agreed with a little shaky laugh that made me smile. She reached her hand out and Chloe handed her clipboard over. It was nice to see she still had the gift of not saying a word and having people know exactly what she needed. She clicked a tab and pulled up a picture of the first project she reviewed with us, the car.
“How do you like working with Ryan?”
Her gaze snapped to mine. “You know him.”
“You can say that.”
I’d met Ryan while my father was still the head of Hawthorne and our business relationship had only gotten stronger after I took over. He was always very professional and had exceptional instincts when it came to business. The man also had a different woman at his side every time I saw him. I wasn’t sure that I liked knowing he was working closely with Tessa. Kid. I reminded myself. Possible boyfriend. I fought an annoyed groan and looked at her left hand. She had no ring on it, so either the boyfriend had become an ex or he still hadn’t asked her to marry him, in which case, he was a fucking moron. Hypocrisy at its best. I knew it, but I owned it.
“I haven’t met him yet,” she said. “He’s been on vacation all week.”
“Did you get here this week?”
“No.” She blinked away from me. Briefly looked at the clipboard in her hand and then back up at me. “I started working this week. We all did.”
Sam cleared his throat from the other side of the room. I glanced up at him. He raised an eyebrow as if to ask me what the fuck I was doing.
The project.
Right.
“You’ll have to let me know what your concept is so we can narrow down fabrics, unless you already have exactly what you want in mind. Colors, materials, etcetera.”
Tessa handed Chloe back the clipboard and picked up her phone to look at the time. In the two-seconds she had it lit up, I caught sight of a little boy smiling at the camera. He had the bluest blue eyes I’d ever seen. My heart slammed hard in my chest. She had a boy. I glanced away quickly.
“I have to go,” she said quickly.
“We haven’t even discussed fabrics,” I argued.
She exhaled, bringing her hands up and rubbing her temple with the tips of her fingers. When she dropped them again, she looked at Chloe. “I need you to—”
“I got it.” Chloe stood and grabbed her things before giving my brother a quick hug. Watching them together was almost painful. It reminded me of what I didn’t have and seemed to crave these days. Who would have ever imagined that?
“Thank you,” Tessa called out as Chloe walked out of the room. Chloe flashed her a smile.
“I should stay, right?” Seth asked.
“No. Go back to Prim and work with Tommy to finish the designs.” Tessa exhaled and looked over at me. “Do you have fabrics here? Swatches of colors? Anything?”
“Yes, to both.”
“I’ll need to see them.” She looked back at Seth. “I’ll see you Monday. Meeting at ten. Don’t forget. Once that’s done, we’ll meet and discuss. Hopefully by then, one of us will have come up with something.”
Seth stood, did a little salute, and walked out.
“And then there were three,” Sam said, smiling.
Tessa smiled. I felt myself smile as well. It felt both foreign and familiar, and not for the first time since she walked into the building, I wondered how I’d ever let this woman go. If I were to rewind, I wouldn’t take any of it back, especially not after seeing how all of this had affected the unbreakable Camryn. If it had been Tessa in her place, I would have alienated her. Not purposely, but it would have happened. She had a demanding career and I’d wanted more out of mine. Things would never have worked between us and I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if I’d purposely pushed her away. Looking at how guarded she seemed around me, I guess I ended up doing it anyway.
We sat and focused on the fabrics, textures, and different colors. She seemed to hate everything I showed her. When Tessa pulled the third fabric book toward her, Sam stood and stretched.
“I need to get going. If the furniture company doesn’t get the fabrics delivered by Saturday, this guy’s gonna have our heads.” His gaze turned to Tessa. “You good? Do you need me to—”
“Nope. It’s taken care of. Thanks.”
They were finishing each other’s sentences and even though I knew it was stupid to let it bother me, it did. They’d stayed in touch these years while I’d disappeared and I knew he had a relationship with her son even if he never actually talked about the little boy. He’d also never spoken to me about the kid’s dad. I’d found out enough information about the guy to appease my curiosity and retracted before I went any further. It wouldn’t have been fair to either of us. But now that she was here? I’d have to keep myself in check. I wouldn’t be the Mariah in this situation, pulling her away from her boyfriend.
Chapter Ten
Tessa
I felt jittery around him. I couldn’t help it. The combination of nerves and guilt made up one hell of a concoction swishing inside me, making me feel tipsy with emotion. I glanced up and found him watching me closely.
“Have you looked
at the sketches of the socks?”
“Briefly,” I said. “I’ve been a little more focused on the bigger contracts.” I met his gaze. “No offense.”
“None taken.”
“Why socks?”
“Well, we all wear them, for one,” he said, a hint of a smile tugging his lips. “Besides that, I wanted to have something that’s mine.”
“Hawthorne Industries isn’t yours?” I raised an eyebrow.
“Something that I started, that I built.”
I felt myself nod in understanding. “What’s RHS Designs?”
“Rowan, Hawthorne, Samson,” he said.
“Oh. Wow. Sam didn’t tell me about that.”
“It’s fairly new. I wanted to rebrand.” He turned around and leaned against the conference table. He was standing right by me. If I moved my hand a little too far to the left, it would touch his. I reckon he knew that, probably did it on purpose and relished the sense of imbalance I felt at his nearness. He inched closer still. I set my pencil down, leaned back in my seat, and crossed my arms. When I looked over to him, my heartbeat doubled when our gazes met, which I hated.
“What’s your deal?”
“What deal?” He crossed his arms, cocked his head, and stared at me.
“Why are you looking at me like that? Sitting so close?”
“I can’t look at you?”
“Not like that.”
“I only know how to look at you one way.”
I swallowed the question, afraid to ask what way he meant even though I already knew. He was making me imagine things that scared me all over again. “I can’t do my job if you keep at it.”
“I’m not doing anything.” His eyes glittered. I could tell he was holding back a smile.
“Rowan, I know you,” I said. “Did you forget? I know you better than most.”
“You know me better than all.”
There went my galloping heart again, running off with ideas. I tried to school my features as best as I could. I should tell him about Miles, but I didn’t know what to say, how to start. “Hey, by the way, we have a son. Sorry it took me almost four years to tell you,” wasn’t nearly good enough.
No. I couldn’t just blurt it out. I’d take this weekend to think and tell him on Monday. I took a deep breath, let it out, and smiled.
“Let’s get back to work.”
He stared at me for a moment longer before giving a nod and launching into an explanation about the socks.
“You don’t even have a cute logo for these?” I asked.
“Not yet.”
“But—” I blinked from him to the sock sketches and back to him. “Who sketched these?”
“Sam.”
I looked at the socks again. They weren’t bad, per se, they just weren’t clean. He’d done them on the computer instead of by hand. Call me a purist, but I wasn’t a fan of computer programs drawing for me. “Really?”
“Can you help me?”
“You hired us, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but I don’t want Seth or someone else in your department. I want you.”
The words curled inside me, my body clearly taking that as a double entendre, which it surely wasn’t, but this was Rowan and every single thing that slipped out of those full lips had a purpose. I must have stayed quiet too long, because he bumped his chair to mine.“Tessa,” he whispered.
“No.” I kept my eyes fixed on the sketch in front of me. “We aren’t doing this again, Rowan. We aren’t. We work, we talk about work, and that’s it.”
He shifted and finally took the seat next to mine. “Have you forgiven me? Just answer me that.”
“I’m over it. That’s the only thing you need to know right now.”
Our conversation was cut short by Samson coming back into the conference room. He looked at us. “You guys are still here?”
“Yeah.” I pushed the side button on my phone and looked at the time. I was going to miss dinner. “Shit.” I stood, gathering my things. “I have to go. Are you free tomorrow morning?” I looked at Rowan. He nodded, eyes unwavering on mine. Those eyes always got me, damn it. I left before I could say anything. Samson caught up to me.
“You didn’t tell him.” It wasn’t a question. I pushed the elevator button.
“Not yet. Give me this weekend, Sam. I can’t just spring that on him. I have so much shit resting on my shoulders right now.”
“I’ll give you the weekend,” he said. “I won’t keep it from him any longer than that.”
“You really didn’t know? Every time you looked at Miles, you really didn’t have a clue?” I knew I’d struck a nerve at the way his eyes widened slightly. I stepped into the elevator. “That’s what I thought. You’ve kept it for over three years.”
“I didn’t know.”
“He looks exactly like him,” I said. “Maybe you didn’t want to believe it or see it, but you must have suspected.”
He pursed his lips. “I didn’t know.”
“We’ll go with that, but don’t you dare tell him. I’m not kidding. I have my reasons for not telling him yet.”
“Because you’re holding a grudge.”
“Please, Sam. I’m not a child,” I said, jabbing the button so that the doors wouldn’t close between us. “This is much more than a grudge and you know it.”
I went home. Thankfully, Celia had already taken care of bath time and had Miles in his astronaut pajamas. His dark hair had already been brushed to the side and he had a goofy smile on his face when I walked in.
“Mommy!”
“Hey, baby, I’m so sorry I’m late,” I said, crouching and wrapping my arms around him so I could inhale the scent of his jasmine baby wash. I thought about my meeting with Rowan and the way Sam was insisting I tell him everything. Without so much as a hint of warning, emotion surged inside me, and I started to weep against him. He was my baby, my everything. He’d been with me when I was pregnant and scared and when I didn’t know what the hell I was doing once he was born. I’d woken up every hour, on the hour, to feed him. I was the one who had lain awake with him on my chest when he got his first fever. Sure, I had help from my sister and grandmother, but he was my son. What was I supposed to do when Rowan demanded weekends with him? Just let him go? My sister sighed heavily from the kitchen.
“I’ll be right back.”
I glanced up at her and nodded, smiling. “Thank you.”
“Always, babe.”
Once she walked out, I looked at Miles. “Did you have a good day at daycare today?”
He nodded, smiling. “Made a tree with no leaves for fall.”
“That sounds fun. What else?”
“Drew a rocket.”
“That’s exciting.” I smiled and lifted him higher in my arms. “Was it blue?”
“Blue and white.”
“Ooohh, blue and white. Impressive.”
I carried him to the bathroom and set him down in front of the sink. He went over to the toilet. I smiled as he went about his business, aiming into the toilet as if there were imaginary Cheerios there. That was how I potty trained him—Cheerios in the toilet. He flushed and came over to the sink, stepping onto the little stool. I thought about Samson as I watched Miles wash his hands. He had looked so utterly betrayed he when I admitted that Rowan was Miles’s father. Deep down, I knew he’d always suspected it, but like a true friend, he hadn’t pushed me, and like an awful friend, I hadn’t come clean about it. Looking back, I’d had plenty of opportunities, but Sam had been sick and I’d been busy with work and Miles. It wasn’t as if all of us were sitting around lounging while I was keeping this lie and it wasn’t as if Sam was the only person I’d kept the truth from. The only people who knew were Celia and Grandma Joan. Everyone else was in the dark. It was easier that way.
Miles dried his hands and lifted his arms up for me to carry him again, the way he often did when it was his bedtime and I hadn’t seen him all day. His tiny arms wrapped tightly around my neck as I carried him in
to his room, only loosening when I settled him into bed.
“Story?” he asked over a yawn. I pushed his hair back.
“Not today, baby. You’re tired. I’m tired. We’ll read two stories tomorrow.”
“Kay,” he whispered, his eyes drifting shut. I kissed both his cheeks and whispered good night.
My sister was walking back in when I stepped into the kitchen area.
“Are you okay?” she asked, her brows pulling in.
The wave of emotion I’d been holding in suddenly came crashing down. I shook my head rapidly, trying to hold in the tears and failing. “I’m not.”
I recounted everything that happened. She hugged me tighter with each word I spoke and held my head against her chest as I cried afterward.
“Just take the weekend to think about it,” she said. “Maybe it’s time.”
“I have to go back to his office tomorrow.”
“So, you go back there, act natural, get through Friday, and start over on Monday. Maybe this is a blessing in disguise. Stop worrying.”
I vowed to try.
It was casual Friday and I took full advantage of it, wearing jeans, a nice black-and-white blouse with a pretty ribbon in the neck, and black converse. I looped my messenger bag over my shoulder. The subway ride was eventful, as most subway rides were if you were actually paying attention, which I was because I’d stuffed my phone in my bag first and I had no interest in rubbing elbows with the person beside me to get it out. Not that I had much room for elbow rubbing to begin with. I was glad when my stop arrived.
I’d spent the entire night tossing and turning and rehearsing how I would tell him we had a son together. Then I spent my morning rehearsing how I would tell Miles about his father. It wasn’t that Miles had never asked, but I’d always left things unanswered. I’d just shifted the conversation to the many wonderful father figures he had—Freddie, Samson, and my dad.