Why Not Tonight
Page 60
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She cried harder, not only because she knew she’d lost Ronan but because of deeper, sadder pain. As Nick held her and tried to make her feel better, she realized that Ronan wasn’t the only Mitchell brother to gain a place in her heart. She’d fallen in love with all of them. Nick and Mathias, Pallas and Carol. Loving Ronan wasn’t just about him; it was about his family. Once again, she’d allowed herself to belong and to believe that she could be a part of something bigger than herself. Yes, they would still be her friends, but that wasn’t the same. She wanted them as her family.
“I w-wish it could have been different,” she whispered.
“Me, too.”
“I’m crying on your shirt.”
“Pallas is having a baby in a few months. I’m pretty sure after that a few tears are going to seem downright sanitary.”
She tried to laugh, but her throat was too tight. “Don’t be mad, but I hoped we’d be a family,” she admitted.
He touched her chin, forcing her to look at him. “We are,” he told her. “No matter what, we’ll be here for you. I’ve got your back and so does everyone else you know, Natalie. You’re not alone.”
“Thank you.” She knew in her head he was right—it was her heart that was going to take some convincing.
He studied her for a second. “You know what, kid? I have an idea about how to fix all this. I should have thought of it before.”
“Don’t. Whatever you’re thinking, don’t. You can’t shame Ronan into loving me. I wouldn’t want that.”
He kissed the top of her head. “No shame, I promise. Just trust me. It’s a really good plan.”
Natalie wanted to believe him, but she couldn’t. She’d run out of faith—at least for the moment.
* * *
RONAN’S WEEK ONLY went downhill. He missed Natalie more than he would have thought possible. Sure, he saw her at the gallery, because he couldn’t seem to stay home, where he wouldn’t see her. Every morning he told himself to just stay put and he would be fine and within the hour he was driving down the mountain.
He wasn’t sure why he bothered. He wasn’t working, couldn’t work. He couldn’t sleep or do anything but think about her and what she’d said. She was possibly the bravest person he’d ever met.
He knew what he wanted. Plain and simple, he wanted her. All of her—heart and soul. He wanted to be with her, love her, spend the rest of his life with her. He needed her, ached for her, dreamed about her the few hours that he slept. So he existed in a hellish world where he saw her, heard her voice and yet wasn’t with her.
The once-burned mixed-media piece sold in three days. He left a bottle of champagne on her desk, but couldn’t stand to speak to her. She was already hard at work on another piece like it. No doubt she would ask either Mathias or Nick to burn it for her. Not him. Never him.
He kept waiting for his brothers to call him on his shit, but they avoided him instead, acting as if nothing had happened, as if everything he’d ever wanted wasn’t crumbling around them. And so it went on until he couldn’t stand it anymore.
Nearly a week after Natalie’s heart-wrenching confession, a woman walked into the studio. She was tall and slim, with blond hair and green eyes. He’d never seen her before and would guess she was in her early forties, although she could have been older.
Natalie was in the office, so it was just him and his brothers. When no one else looked up at her, Ronan walked over.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
She smiled at him, the corners of her mouth trembling slightly. “Ronan Mitchell?” she asked, her voice shaking.
He nodded, hoping she wasn’t some buyer who wanted to have a personal experience with him. He wasn’t that kind of artist. He should direct her to the gallery and tell her—
He felt a prickling sensation start at the back of his neck, then work down his spine. She wasn’t a fan or a collector of art. At least, that wasn’t why she was here. He had no idea how he knew that, but he was as sure of it as he was of—
The woman cleared her throat. “This is much harder than I expected, although I don’t know why I would have thought it would be easy. It’s not, is it?” She gave a hollow laugh, then pressed her fingers to her mouth. “I swear, I’m not going to cry. I wouldn’t do that. It’s just so much to take in.”
She swallowed and held out her hand. “I promise, I’ll start making sense now. I’m Pippa Waddell and I’m your biological mother.”
The room went completely quiet. It was as if the ovens had shut off and his brothers stopped working and there was only stillness as her words echoed over and over again until they were all he could hear.
“I can see by the look on your face this is a complete surprise,” she said before reaching for a chair by his desk. “I’m feeling a little light-headed. Do you mind if I sit down?”
He held the chair for her. As she sank down, Mathias went and got two glasses of water. Ronan took them and offered her one before sitting across from her. His brothers disappeared into the break room. He doubted they were out of earshot, but that was fine. He didn’t have any secrets from them.
She sipped the water. “Thank you. I took the red-eye last night and drove in from Los Angeles. I’m a little tired.” She tried to smile and failed.
He wanted to ask why she was here. How had she found him and why now, only he couldn’t seem to speak.
She set down her glass. “I met your father at a gallery in New York. I was young, barely nineteen, and totally art struck. I was an art history major.” She wrinkled her nose. “Yes, so very practical, but I couldn’t help it. I loved all forms of art, and when it came to your father, I was a devoted fan.”
She pressed a hand to her chest. “Meeting him was unexpected. He was so funny and charming, so handsome.” Color flared on her cheeks. “I knew he was older and married, but none of that seemed to matter. I thought of myself as so very worldly and believed I was ready for a man like him.”
She picked up her glass, then put it down again. “We started an affair. It was very torrid. Looking back, I realize I was completely out of my element. I was a silly girl from a small town who didn’t understand what she was doing. I didn’t think about the consequences of my actions or the pain they would cause others. All I knew was that for those brief months, Ceallach was my world.”
She paused as if expecting Ronan to say something. He nodded, because that was the best he could do. There was no way he could string together words that made sense. Just hearing what she was saying was difficult enough.
“I moved to Sacramento to be close to him.” She pressed her lips together. “I lied to my parents, who had no idea what was wrong with me. I didn’t tell anyone. I couldn’t. I knew our relationship was wrong, but I couldn’t seem to stop.” She looked at him, then away. “I’m the oldest of three girls. My dad was a plumber and my mother was a schoolteacher.”
“Normal,” he said quietly.
“Yes. Normal and boring and a thousand other things I didn’t appreciate. All I thought of was your father. He said I was his muse and I couldn’t imagine anything more wonderful.”
She would have seen a side of his father he wouldn’t recognize, he thought. She would know things he couldn’t imagine. It was as if she were talking about someone he’d never met.
“I w-wish it could have been different,” she whispered.
“Me, too.”
“I’m crying on your shirt.”
“Pallas is having a baby in a few months. I’m pretty sure after that a few tears are going to seem downright sanitary.”
She tried to laugh, but her throat was too tight. “Don’t be mad, but I hoped we’d be a family,” she admitted.
He touched her chin, forcing her to look at him. “We are,” he told her. “No matter what, we’ll be here for you. I’ve got your back and so does everyone else you know, Natalie. You’re not alone.”
“Thank you.” She knew in her head he was right—it was her heart that was going to take some convincing.
He studied her for a second. “You know what, kid? I have an idea about how to fix all this. I should have thought of it before.”
“Don’t. Whatever you’re thinking, don’t. You can’t shame Ronan into loving me. I wouldn’t want that.”
He kissed the top of her head. “No shame, I promise. Just trust me. It’s a really good plan.”
Natalie wanted to believe him, but she couldn’t. She’d run out of faith—at least for the moment.
* * *
RONAN’S WEEK ONLY went downhill. He missed Natalie more than he would have thought possible. Sure, he saw her at the gallery, because he couldn’t seem to stay home, where he wouldn’t see her. Every morning he told himself to just stay put and he would be fine and within the hour he was driving down the mountain.
He wasn’t sure why he bothered. He wasn’t working, couldn’t work. He couldn’t sleep or do anything but think about her and what she’d said. She was possibly the bravest person he’d ever met.
He knew what he wanted. Plain and simple, he wanted her. All of her—heart and soul. He wanted to be with her, love her, spend the rest of his life with her. He needed her, ached for her, dreamed about her the few hours that he slept. So he existed in a hellish world where he saw her, heard her voice and yet wasn’t with her.
The once-burned mixed-media piece sold in three days. He left a bottle of champagne on her desk, but couldn’t stand to speak to her. She was already hard at work on another piece like it. No doubt she would ask either Mathias or Nick to burn it for her. Not him. Never him.
He kept waiting for his brothers to call him on his shit, but they avoided him instead, acting as if nothing had happened, as if everything he’d ever wanted wasn’t crumbling around them. And so it went on until he couldn’t stand it anymore.
Nearly a week after Natalie’s heart-wrenching confession, a woman walked into the studio. She was tall and slim, with blond hair and green eyes. He’d never seen her before and would guess she was in her early forties, although she could have been older.
Natalie was in the office, so it was just him and his brothers. When no one else looked up at her, Ronan walked over.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
She smiled at him, the corners of her mouth trembling slightly. “Ronan Mitchell?” she asked, her voice shaking.
He nodded, hoping she wasn’t some buyer who wanted to have a personal experience with him. He wasn’t that kind of artist. He should direct her to the gallery and tell her—
He felt a prickling sensation start at the back of his neck, then work down his spine. She wasn’t a fan or a collector of art. At least, that wasn’t why she was here. He had no idea how he knew that, but he was as sure of it as he was of—
The woman cleared her throat. “This is much harder than I expected, although I don’t know why I would have thought it would be easy. It’s not, is it?” She gave a hollow laugh, then pressed her fingers to her mouth. “I swear, I’m not going to cry. I wouldn’t do that. It’s just so much to take in.”
She swallowed and held out her hand. “I promise, I’ll start making sense now. I’m Pippa Waddell and I’m your biological mother.”
The room went completely quiet. It was as if the ovens had shut off and his brothers stopped working and there was only stillness as her words echoed over and over again until they were all he could hear.
“I can see by the look on your face this is a complete surprise,” she said before reaching for a chair by his desk. “I’m feeling a little light-headed. Do you mind if I sit down?”
He held the chair for her. As she sank down, Mathias went and got two glasses of water. Ronan took them and offered her one before sitting across from her. His brothers disappeared into the break room. He doubted they were out of earshot, but that was fine. He didn’t have any secrets from them.
She sipped the water. “Thank you. I took the red-eye last night and drove in from Los Angeles. I’m a little tired.” She tried to smile and failed.
He wanted to ask why she was here. How had she found him and why now, only he couldn’t seem to speak.
She set down her glass. “I met your father at a gallery in New York. I was young, barely nineteen, and totally art struck. I was an art history major.” She wrinkled her nose. “Yes, so very practical, but I couldn’t help it. I loved all forms of art, and when it came to your father, I was a devoted fan.”
She pressed a hand to her chest. “Meeting him was unexpected. He was so funny and charming, so handsome.” Color flared on her cheeks. “I knew he was older and married, but none of that seemed to matter. I thought of myself as so very worldly and believed I was ready for a man like him.”
She picked up her glass, then put it down again. “We started an affair. It was very torrid. Looking back, I realize I was completely out of my element. I was a silly girl from a small town who didn’t understand what she was doing. I didn’t think about the consequences of my actions or the pain they would cause others. All I knew was that for those brief months, Ceallach was my world.”
She paused as if expecting Ronan to say something. He nodded, because that was the best he could do. There was no way he could string together words that made sense. Just hearing what she was saying was difficult enough.
“I moved to Sacramento to be close to him.” She pressed her lips together. “I lied to my parents, who had no idea what was wrong with me. I didn’t tell anyone. I couldn’t. I knew our relationship was wrong, but I couldn’t seem to stop.” She looked at him, then away. “I’m the oldest of three girls. My dad was a plumber and my mother was a schoolteacher.”
“Normal,” he said quietly.
“Yes. Normal and boring and a thousand other things I didn’t appreciate. All I thought of was your father. He said I was his muse and I couldn’t imagine anything more wonderful.”
She would have seen a side of his father he wouldn’t recognize, he thought. She would know things he couldn’t imagine. It was as if she were talking about someone he’d never met.
