“Do you think it’s easier to always be underestimated? Do you think it’s easier to always have people think that you are where you are, not because you’re a great fucking lawyer, but because your daddy arranged it for you? You don’t understand the constant scrutiny, people just waiting for you to fuck up and then gloat about Daddy not being able to fix things for you! Maybe being partner in the firm—or being a lawyer at all, for that matter—wasn’t what I wanted, Dad. Maybe I wanted to be an artist like Mom. Did that ever cross your mind?” She paced in her office as her dad stood next to her desk.

  “I wasn’t going to let the same thing happen to you that happened to your mother.”

  “What happened to my mother? She fell and hit her head in the bathroom!” she huffed, before continuing to pace.

  “She didn’t die by hitting her head, Jennifer,” he whispered so low she almost didn’t hear him. Her head whipped around and she strode to him.

  “What do you mean she didn’t die by hitting her head?” Her whole world felt as if it tilted on its axis.

  “She didn’t die in our bathroom from hitting her head.” He gulped, his throat working and Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “She killed herself.”

  Jen stumbled back like she’d been slapped.

  “Dad. What …what the hell are you talking about? She did not! She died because the floor was wet in the bathroom after I let the sink overflow in the morning before school. You said she fell and hit her head. You came and picked me up from school and told me she died.”

  “No, sweetheart. She didn’t. I came home early from work and I found her in the bathtub. She’d …” he took a couple of deep breaths, “she’d taken some pills and slit her wrists in the bathtub.” The man she’d never seen shed a tear broke down in front of her. The tears were flowing down his cheeks and he struggled to catch his breath.

  “Dad! Why didn’t you ever tell me? I blamed myself! I blamed myself every day for that. I thought that the wet floor made her fall and that’s why she died.” Tears were pouring down her face, and her breathing so erratic, she came close to passing out.

  “I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want you to think that your mother hadn’t loved you. She dealt with a lot and she couldn’t handle it. I didn’t know about the sink. I didn’t know that you blamed yourself all this time.” He walked to her and attempted to pull her into a hug. She shrugged him off and pushed him away.

  “Why did she do it? Why?” she cried, losing her grip on her sanity.

  “Your mother always battled depression and anxiety. Her art was an escape from all that. And when she painted with you, she was always so happy. She found out that one of the museums was hosting an art competition, and the top eight winners would earn an exclusive, merit-based fellowship. She rarely showed anybody else her work, but I finally talked her into entering. She was extremely nervous after she’d submitted her work, but I convinced her that she had a real chance to win. I was so sure, because she was so talented.” He gave her a helpless shrug. “She didn’t. She’d been so down during that time and I tried to bring her back up, support her. She hadn’t wanted me to intervene, even though I knew everybody on the museum board of directors responsible for choosing the winner. She made me promise I wouldn’t interfere.” He burst into tears, and attempted to choke them back as he continued.

  “She was heartbroken when she wasn’t accepted into the program. Her whole life and all of her ambitions were slowly dying and the loss devastated her. I didn’t know how to change that or to reach her. The only time she seemed at peace in those last days was when she was with you and you two were drawing or painting together.”

  “Dad! All these years, I’ve blamed myself. I blamed myself for making a mess in the bathroom. I thought it was my fault.” She couldn’t continue. Shaking, she sat down in her chair. It was like the floor tried to swallow her whole. The room spun and she had to steady herself.

  “I told you, I didn’t know you thought that, Jennifer. I hoped I wouldn’t ever have to tell you. If I had known you blamed yourself, I would have told you sooner.”

  “Why are you telling me now?” She looked at him, tears streaming down her face.

  He sighed. “I know I haven’t been the best father to you. I’ve done everything I could to try to make things easier for you. I never wanted you to have to experience the heartache that your mother did, especially when it came to art. That’s why I always pushed you from it. I thought that the law would be safer, less mercurial—a better life for you.”

  “Do I seem less mercurial right now?” she demanded, barely holding herself together. “I can’t believe you’ve lied to me about this my entire life. I can’t do this right now. I can’t be here right now. I’m leaving.” She shot up out of her chair, grabbed her bag, and ran past her father to her office door, flinging it open. She power walked to elevator and prayed that there wouldn’t be anyone inside when she got there. Chad stepped out of the elevator as she brushed past him to get in.

  “Congrats on the promotion,” he sneered.

  “Go fuck yourself, Chad,” she said as the doors closed.

  24

  Jen stalked the couple of blocks to The Bramble, still fuming at what happened at the firm. She couldn’t believe that her father had gone behind her back to arrange this screwed-up promotion. How would anyone take her seriously as a lawyer, let alone as a partner? Everyone would know that the great Lewis Taylor forced the hand of her firm to give her that position just to nab him.

  She’d worked really freaking hard on this move toward eventual partnership. Maybe Chad was right. Everything she’d worked for and the path she’d tried to forge on her own had gone up in flames when her dad made his little backroom deal. Now that she had the partnership, she didn’t even want it. It no longer held the promise of setting out on her own and proving herself. It sat in the sewer with the rest of her ambitions.

  She needed a drink and she needed it now. She flung open the door to The Bramble and made her way to the bar. Charlie had her drink ready before she even sat down on the stool. It was like he had one partially mixed and ready just for her. She downed it in two gulps, then she slammed the tumbler down.

  “Another round, Charlie, and keep them coming. Today’s going to be a doozy.” He slid another tumbler in front of her and she picked that one up, sipping it instead of chugging. From the corner of her eye, she saw Mark rushing toward her.

  “Jen, I didn’t expect you to be here so early.”

  “You won’t believe my morning.”

  “I’m sure, but whatever happened, the news I have will make your day one hundred percent better.” Her brow scrunched up at that.

  “What news is that? Did something happen with the settlement with Cheryl?”

  “No, even better!” He thrust a thick envelope at her. Unsure, but curious, she took it from his hand and unsealed it. Ripping it open, she pulled out the thick packet and started reading.

  Congratulations, Ms. Taylor. We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected for the McGuffin Fellowship …

  She stood frozen, unable to process what exactly she held in her hands. A fellowship? She hadn’t applied for a fellowship. All the pieces of the letter were starting to process. Three years. Three years in New York. Fully funded with a mentorship and studio space. Mark bounced on the balls of his feet and she gaped at him.

  “The fellowship is only given out once a year. They select one promising artist from different media and they get this fellowship. Your portfolio was selected for 2D art.”

  “What portfolio? How did they get to see any of my work?”

  “I got Keira to submit your nomination through her department chair at the university.”

  She froze, staring at him with her mouth hanging open.

  “You had her submit my work without my permission? How did you even get any of my work?” He had the decency to look sheepish.

  “I may have taken a couple of canvases from your place when I stayed over.”

  “You stole my art from my apartment?” she shouted.

  “Stole would be a harsh way of putting it. I borrowed it so that the committee could review it. You’ll get everything back in a week or so.”

  “That’s beside the point,” she said, fuming. “You took it without my permission and submitted it for a fellowship I didn’t even ask for.”

  “I knew you would never go for it. But I knew you needed to take a risk. You’re an amazing artist. You never would have put yourself up for the fellowship, so I did it for you.”

  “You had no right.” With everything that happened today, this was like the cherry on top. First with her father and then with Mark. What was it with the men in her life deciding that they knew what was best for her?

  “Why won’t you just admit that you’re a little scared and that’s why you don’t want to do it? But there’s no reason to be scared. Go for it!” Her hands clenched as she fought the urge to punch him in the mouth. He still had his stupid grin on his face.

  “I can’t believe you had her submit my work without my permission! What made you think that would be okay?” His smile faltered and her chest seized like someone sat on her chest. After the talk with her father about what actually happened to her mother, her art was no longer the beautiful connection to her mother it had always been. He motioned for her to follow him, as everyone in the bar stared at their little standoff. She followed him up to the office and he closed the door behind her.

  “I don’t understand. I thought you’d be happy. You always downplay your art because you don’t realize, or want to believe, that you’re really talented. I think that this proves how great of an artist you are and how great you can be. I have the evaluator’s comments here. Here, take it.” He held out a larger envelope, but Jen recoiled like it was a venomous snake.

  “I didn’t ask for this, Mark. It’s in New York. If I take this fellowship, I would have to move to New York for three years.”

  “I know, but it’s an amazing opportunity.”

  “That’s one way to get rid of me,” she said, fuming. “The lengths you’ll go to dodge commitment are pretty ingenious.”

  He groaned in frustration. “Are you seriously going to be so stubborn when it comes to this? This isn’t about me not wanting to be with you. This is your future. Take the damn envelope, Jen!” He thrust the letter at her as she backed up even more.

  “You think I’m stubborn? You went ahead and did this without me asking you to. It’s just like my father all over again. Everyone always seems to know what’s best for me in my life—everyone but me, apparently! If I wanted her to submit my work, I would have asked her to. Did you ever think about that?! Maybe I didn’t want to be an artist. Maybe that’s not what will make me happy!”

  “Being a lawyer sure doesn’t make you happy.”

  “Since when are you the authority on happiness, Mark? Does The Bramble make you happy? If so, why won’t you ask anyone for help so you can keep it? Your friend Liam has offered to help you with the bar as an investor. You’re just so damned stubborn and don’t want anyone’s help that you would rather lose this place rather than ask for help!”

  “It’s not the same thing and you know it!” he barked.

  “It’s not, Mark, because at least I’m willing to admit that I’m afraid of what could happen if I don’t take the leap. I’m standing at the edge of the cliff looking over and trying to decide what the hell I should do. You’re sitting in the car in the fucking parking lot.” She ripped the envelope out of his hand and stalked out of the office, slamming the door behind her. She ran down the stairs with tears streaming down her face. She hated angry tears. Wiping away at them, she gritted her teeth and stormed out of the bar.

  She ordered a taxi on her phone, then paced around outside while she waited for it, completely unable to think straight. Why now? After everything that happened why was all of this happening now? Why had he decided that he knew what was best for her better than she did? Everything in her life had spiraled out of control. First, the partnership offer and now the fellowship, both pushed on her by people she loved. She needed to make a choice for herself. She needed to find out what made her happy and stop letting other people dictate to her what path she should follow.

  25

  Mark stared at the door long after Jen had left, trying to figure out how things had gone so wrong. He’d expected her to be a little pissed that he took her artwork without asking, but he’d thought that the excitement over the fellowship would outweigh that. And he hadn’t thought that she would see this as him trying to get rid of her.

  When Keira told him she’d been selected, he’d been ecstatic, but then the sinking feeling settled in when he realized that it was real now and if Jen accepted, she’d have to leave LA and move all the way across the country for the next three years. The thought of being away from her for that long was a stab through the heart, but he’d thought it was worth the sacrifice for her to be able to do something so amazing. Maybe that was the issue. He’d made up his mind about being able to make that sacrifice, but maybe she hadn’t. He hadn’t thought about how it would change her life, other than the positives. He hadn’t considered that maybe she didn’t want to leave everything and everyone in LA behind.

  Kicking himself, he realized what he would have to do. If he was willing to see Jen make some sacrifices, then he should think about it too. Maybe, if she saw what he would sacrifice, she would know how much this opportunity could mean for her and how much she meant for him.

  He picked up his phone and scrolled through his contacts. He should have made this decision long ago. It was his stubbornness and not wanting to admit that he needed help that had gotten him into this mess in the first place. He was always trying to do it all himself and he wasn’t going to do that anymore. He’d ask for help, even if he had to grovel. The receptionist picked up.

  “Yes, I would like to make an appointment with Mr. Drake. It is about an investment opportunity. We’ve met before, and he said that I should give him a ring to set up a meeting.”

  She checked Liam’s schedule, then asked him if 11 a.m. would work.

  “Sure, 11 a.m. works for me. I’ll be there.”

  His heart raced a mile a minute. There was no going back. He needed to do this and needed to prove to Jen that he was serious about being with her. He’d spent so much time being afraid of making the same mistakes he made with Cheryl that he made whole new ones with Jen. She didn’t deserve to be stuck in his relationship black hole and he would do whatever he needed to do to make sure that he could start things fresh with her. Even if it meant leaving The Bramble behind.

  26

  Jen brushed her hair and staring at herself, trying to process everything that happened. How had she ended up here? Her thoughts were interrupted by a call from the front desk.

  “Front desk, Ms. Taylor. I have a Mr. Taylor here. He says he’s your father.”

  “Yes, send him up.”

  “Right away.”

  She hung up the phone and glanced down at herself. Her clothes would have to do. There wasn’t any time to change into anything else. In the year she’d been in this apartment, her dad had never even dropped a hint that he wanted to stop by. She hadn’t realized he even knew where she lived. When he knocked on the door, she put her brush down and went to let him in.

  Her dad stood there, looking every bit of his sixty-five years old. She waved him in and closed the door behind him. He seemed shocked by all the art she had strewn all over the apartment.

  “You are definitely your mother’s daughter when it comes to organization,” he said, attempting a joke.

  “What are you doing here, Dad?” She crossed her arms over her chest, supremely uncomfortable in her own apartment. This was her refuge and her father had never been comfortable around her art.

  “I came to apologize.”

  That caught her attention. Her father was never one to show weakness and in his mind, apologizing was weakness.

  “I never should have let you know about your mother that way. I have always carried that weight with me and when you talked about not taking the partnership, I saw all my previous mistakes coming back to haunt me.”

  “I’m glad you told me, Dad, but I wish you hadn’t lied to me all this time. I could have handled it. But to throw me that curveball after the partners’ meeting? To drop that on me and try to use it to manipulate me into making the choice you wanted …?” She sighed and starting to clean up her painting materials. She wasn’t in the mood for painting now.

  “There’s one other piece to the story that I didn’t tell you.”

  She stopped cold in her tracks and the cup full of water and brushes sloshed over the edge at her abrupt movement. With paint-stained water dripping down her hand, she turned back to her father.

  “Not getting into the art program wasn’t the only reason your mom took her own life.” He wiped away a tear and sat on the arm of her couch. Following his lead, she sat on one of the chairs. He looked down at his hands as he wrung them.

  “The rest of the reason she gave for ending it all was because she was afraid to let me down.” Glancing up at her with tears in his eyes, Jen saw his absolute devastation. “She said she could never measure up to the aspirations I seemed to have for her life. For her art, for her as a mother. That it was all too much and crashed down around her.” He choked back a sob.

  “I always pushed that part of things out of my mind. Tried to convince myself that it was another of her overreactions. That day in your office, I saw that it wasn’t the art that killed your mother. It was me. It was my rigid standards and fucking impossible expectations that made her think that killing herself was the only way to escape them. To escape me.”

  She put the cup down on the table and strode over to her dad. She crouched down and tried to catch his gaze, but he stared down at his hands.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17