The Ahern Brothers Collection - Claudia Burgoa Page 0,112

simple. That problems could be solved quickly and easily. Finding both my freedom and my footing has been a long and complicated journey.

It began when I hit rock bottom. Sterling kicked me out of the company. The board supported him. A bad choice since they were dismissed the very next day. After I lost Abby, I lost myself. The guilt for not being there to protect her fucked me up. I threw myself into other projects and numbed my memories of Abby with alcohol.

It took me a long time to realize I wasn’t directly responsible for her being beaten that night or for the abuse she suffered as a child. Contacting HIB saved her life. I didn’t act as fast as I’d wanted, but my actions helped. Our secrets are what broke us, and in the end, we both realized that we knew less about each other than we’d presumed.

Three years have passed since we stopped occupying the same space. I run a hand through my hair, taking a long sip of air. The pain from not having her close hasn’t disappeared yet. My lungs keep gasping for air, but I still feel like I’m choking. After our first kiss, Abby became my oxygen, and since she left, I’ve been trying to learn how to breathe without her. But it’s so fucking hard.

I miss her voice, our friendship, and the way I felt when she was around. I miss her body pressed against mine, kissing her whenever I got the chance. For a couple of weeks, we were together. It was a short-lived affair where everything was too perfect, almost staged. I treated what we had just like any other relationship—carelessly—and it broke into a million pieces. Looking at this painting, I remember those special times when she’d open up to me and I saw the real Abby. She claimed that I had no idea who she was, but my heart saw through to the real girl behind the happy mask.

Sterling shouldn’t be selling this piece; it’s too special. The silhouette of the woman watching the sunset is Abby. She’s leaning against the railing of her room in Tahoe—our haven—and the place where I swear I can still feel her presence. Just like I do right now. It’s like she’s only a few steps away from me.

If only.

I had no idea I missed her this much. Maybe it’s the tone of the painting. It’s muted, the style reminiscent of Monet—one of Abby’s favorite artists. Each stroke has a smudged quality that renders the image watery, like a reflection in a rippled puddle.

“I must have this painting.” a feminine voice says behind me.

“Sorry, ma’am,” I apologize, turning around and taking a step back when I see who is next to the lady. My heart slowly moves inside my chest, stretching, as if waking up after a long nap.

“This painting has been sold,” I lie. My voice is firm.

My eyes divert to her. She stares at me wide eyed while holding her breath. My pulse accelerates. I take a lungful of air, and my chest loosens up. Her presence brightens the entire room. My God, she’s even more beautiful than I remember her. She looks stunning in a short, red dress that accentuates her curves.

Abby, I whisper.

She looks different, like a grown-up version of the girl I met almost ten years ago. Abby wears just enough makeup to highlight her beauty. Her gorgeous brown eyes appear bigger with her hair pulled back into a fancy bun. My gaze is drawn to her smiling lips. Never in my entire life have I wanted to kiss a stranger.

Today, I’m dying for just a touch of those full lips.

She looks familiar, yet so different from the young girl I once knew.

Why is she here?

Sterling never mentioned they’d stayed in touch. Maybe she’s visiting and decided to drop by and check out his art. Abby was fond of my brother and always supported him, even when we didn’t understand the symbolism in his work.

“It has a price tag next to it,” the woman says, tapping the sticker twice.

Then huffs, looking around. “If necessary, I’ll offer more than the asking price.” This lady is adamant about having it.

The woman has no idea who she’s dealing with. There’s no fucking way I’m letting her buy it. I’ll pay triple if I have to, but this painting is mine. Neither Abby nor I respond. Our gazes lock; the air around us has changed. The world stills. Everyone around us