The Ahern Brothers Collection - Claudia Burgoa Page 0,117
year, I’ve been avoiding even talking about her because it’s easier to just ignore the elephant in the room. I thought avoidance was the only way to mend myself.
My mind, my heart, and my soul were broken—they’re still a fucking mess. It’s tough to move on when part of me will always belong to her. Back then, I cried almost every day. I don’t think I’ve ever cried so much in my life. I hated myself for not knowing how to keep her beside me.
Today I don’t feel like drowning in tears, but my heart cracks from her rejection. Nothing can stop the wreckage. It’s like all the time I spent forgetting her never happened.
I enter the gallery and find Sterling almost immediately. Once we’re alone, I breathe one word, “Asshole.”
I wish I could punch him, but we’re not kids, and this is a public place.
“What’s your problem?” He fakes ignorance.
“You should’ve told me she was going to be here.”
“Abby?” He casts only the slightest of glances at me before focusing on the woman next to him. “Thank you for coming.”
And he walks away without sparing me another second.
“Yes, Abby,” I say, following behind him.
“Would you have come?” His voice is brisk, business-like.
“Of course, I would,” I say without missing his stupid grin. Fuck, he got me. I might’ve skipped the opening had I known.
“You wouldn’t have,” he corrects me.
“Look, I have no idea, but only because you didn’t give me that chance. I’m here to support you. If you had told me, I’d have been ready for her.”
“Are you going to buy the painting?” He stands right in front of it.
“You could gift it to me.”
Since when do I have to pay for his art? I never charge him when he needs a new computer, an upgrade on his software, or a ride on my plane. We’re brothers, friends, and we share everything, don’t we?
“That painting isn’t mine; it’s Abby’s,” he says with a note of doubt in his voice. “She’s raising funds for her baby.”
The word shifts my center of gravity. I lose my balance, and it feels like everything is falling apart.
“What baby?” That b word hits me like a punch to my gut.
Sterling moves his lips, but I can’t hear what he’s saying. I’m completely in shock. He laughs and pats me on the shoulder.
“The baby is a project she’s been working on. It’s costly, and she only has money to develop it. She’s trying to find ways to maintain it.”
“Can we help her?”
He chuckles. “There he is, her white knight ready to save the day.”
“It’s a question,” I say defensively. “Just like when I asked if you wanted my help when you announced the opening of this place.”
“Well, ask her, not me. It’s Abby’s project,” he emphasizes her name. “If you want the painting you’ll have to ask her and pay her. Same with her plans.”
“She doesn’t want to see me.” I hide the pain that squeezes my chest at the sound of my own words.
“That’s it? You’re giving up?” He lets out a puff of air and rolls his eyes. “It’s like our parents’ separation all over again. One fine day, they both left, and I was alone waiting for them to get their shit together.”
“Our parents never separated,” I refresh his memory.
“You were at Stanford, oblivious to what was going on at home. Mom was always threatening to leave, Dad promising that he’d start delegating work. She actually left for Arizona and Dad moved to New York for a while.”
“To visit Aunt Cindy,” I remind him.
“Nope, that’s what she told you.”
“Sorry, Slugger. I had no idea.”
“It’s in the past. That’s not my point. What I want to say is that I’d appreciate it if you’d fix your shit now instead of brooding for another three years.”
“I can’t make her love me.” A bittersweet crest of emotion fills my voice.
He arches an eyebrow, tilting his head toward me. “Ah, so you want her to love you back and not just be friends. At least you recognize the obvious.”
There’s no middle ground for us. We can’t just be friends after what we had. She’s the love of my life.
“Just don’t make this fucking complicated,” he snarls like he used to when our parents annoyed him. “I’m done being the adult in this relationship.”
“You’re the adult?” I hold my stomach as I laugh. “Mr. I Screwed The Landlord And She Screwed Me Back.”
“Fuck, that’s a big name. You sound just like Abby, and I like her