Chapter 10

The cab dropped her off at Cameron’s house. Miraculously she retained enough presence of mind to recall the physical address.

Tess paid the driver and mustered the energy to get out. Her body felt unnaturally heavy, as if her mood had transmuted and perfused her bones with titanium alloy. Her brain, on the other hand, was still trying to break down and process what she’d learned. She wished she could confide in someone. Anyone. But, against her better judgment, she promised that she would keep his secret.

Tess dragged her feet to the door. Before she could reach for the handle, it opened of its own accord. Her muscles seized at the sight of Cameron.

“I was just about to drive over to see you before I left.” He peered down at her. “Are you ok?”

Tess shook the shock. “No, yeah, I’m fine. Just tired. It’s been a long day.”

He frowned. “What happened to your jeans?”

“Uh, paint. I was cleaning up paint,” she fumbled. “Jade made a mess with one of her art projects.”

“No kidding.” He moved toward her.

She dodged back before he could touch her. Stained with more than just blood, it seemed wrong. Tess donned a brittle smile and pointed to her pants. “I don’t want to mess up your clothes.”

“I’ll live,” he said dryly and yanked her forward.

Her resistance crumbled to nil as his arms banded tight around her. Surrendering, she melted into his embrace. The familiarity of his toned sinew and fresh, blue-water scent restored some measure of normality. Nestled within the safety of his hold, illusion attempted to overlay reality.

But its resolution was grainy, a crumpled fade that didn’t quite measure up to the original.

His thumb rode her nape. “Are you sure you’re ok?”

She nodded. “I just need a nap.”

“I’ll pick up dinner for you.”

At the mention of food, her stomach gave a plaintive whine. The wrap she bought was probably still lying on Adonis’s floor. “Isn’t your family expecting you?”

Cameron smiled. “They can wait. My girlfriend needs to be fed.”

Appreciation warmed her. “You make me sound like livestock.”

His mouth skimmed the column of her neck. “Well, you’re mine to milk and feed and take care of.”

Tess laughed, feeling more like herself. “Way to make a girl feel special.” She reached for her wallet.

His hand covered hers. “I’ve got you. Consider it my treat for helping me study last night. Amongst other things,” he teased.

She flushed, the response thawing most of the lingering coldness that’d followed her from the hospital. “Fine. But next time we go dutch.”

“Ok, Miss Independent Woman. What’re you in the mood for?”

“How about that pizza place downtown?” It’d give her ample time to get Adonis’s stuff together.

“Sounds good.” He pecked her nose. “Be back in twenty.”

Guilt soured within her as he ducked into the Audi. She was the worst. Three weeks into the relationship and she was already harboring more secrets than she could keep track of.

Come on, Tess. Keep it together.

She waited until the Audi sped out of sight to head up to the attic. The room was as she’d left it several hours prior. Lights blazed and the heater raged on full blast, exacerbating the smell of iron and decaying veggies and deli meats swaddled in her wrap.

Her throat convulsed at the sight of dried blood streaked on the floor.

She’d get to that later.

Although she’d visited his room twice now, Tess had never gotten the chance to look around. It definitely wasn’t the average college student’s dorm room.

Boldness seemed to be a common denominator, from the rich, wine-red comforter and black, 100% Egyptian cotton sheets. Instead of tacking up buy one, get one free posters, he’d hung up framed artwork.

He didn’t strike her as the type to be involved in the art scene.

The painting hanging over the headboard snagged her attention, its familiarity both striking and insistent. The post Impressionist piece was simplistic in style and execution at first glance. It depicted an aerial view of a maze that doubled as a garden, its bright foliage ripe with health and fertility. But the longer she stared at her, the more the darker, denser colors at its center pulled her focus. If she didn’t blink, the maze seemed to cave into itself.

Her eyes fell to the neatly scrawled name in the corner.

Selene Argyros.

The name clicked.

She’d proofread a paper Jade wrote about the artist at the beginning of the term. Apparently Selene had taken the art world by storm in the 90s before dropping off the radar. The mystery surrounding her disappearance had made collectors rabid for her remaining pieces.

Tess would bet her left arm that this was an original.

Giving the painting one last thoughtful glance, Tess closed her investigation. She opened the closet and looked for an empty bag.

Her gaze landed on a steel trunk. Its presence was completely out of place amongst the detail of high-end luggage piled in the corner.

It seemed a little excessive for a porn stash.

One peek couldn’t hurt. Taking a knee, Tess unsnapped the silver hooks and carefully lifted the lid.

The space was partitioned into two sections. Model ships occupied the right. Everything had been constructed to the smallest detail, from the mock cables and cords connecting various parts of the ship’s framework to the tiny stairs leading to the captain’s quarters.

The amount of patience and methodical detail that’d gone into its assembly was nothing short of phenomenal.

It must have taken months to assemble.

Out of all the things Tess had expected to find, this certainly wasn’t one of them.

Her eyes drifted to the trunk’s left side. Wooden tablets rested in neat stacks along with a curious assortment of tools and materials. She pushed the archaic-looking utensils aside and withdrew one of the slabs.

The image engraved onto the tightly grained wood stole her breath.

The detailing was flawless.

Rendered in earthy, shaded tones, a lone tree perched on the edge of a mountain overlooking a desolate valley, its silhouette cast against a warm sky at dusk. He’d captured the essence of nature at its most vulnerable. Warm and organic, it looked real enough that she could reach out and test the worn bark. It was introspective and heart-achingly melancholic.

Adonis, the wood-burning, model ship-making artist.

“You’re not so bad ass after all,” she murmured.

________________

Feet propped on her desk, Tess chewed pensively on her pen cap. Beyond her window, the city was a hive of activity. Forty floors above the street level and she could still sense its lifeblood, its energy, beating around her in a scrim of particulate matter trying its damnedest to worm beneath her skin and tempt her into revelry.

Instead of answering its call, hitting up her favorite bodega for the pho sandwich she’d been salivating for, or, more importantly, gaining a head start on upcoming assignments, Tess spent the majority of Thanksgiving conducting research.

Of course it had nothing remotely to do with her classes.

She had completed her last midterm yesterday. It’d taken her longer to psych herself up to return to the hospital than it had to take any of her exams. Eventually, she grew a pair and hitched a ride to the hospital.

Her anxiety had been for naught.

His room was empty when she arrived. Tess briefly pondered the idea of sticking around for his return. In the end, she dropped off the bag and caught a bus back to the city.

She wasn’t that hard pressed for his gratitude.

Now that she was home, Tess couldn’t shake off what happened. After hours of poring over online medical journals, forums, and blogs, she discovered that bipolar disorder was more complicated than she initially presumed. Primarily hereditary, the different categories and psychotic diagnoses that could accompany it blew her mind: the euphoric highs, crushing lows, and a chaotic range of emotions in between.

Coupled with what she found in his room, it made her reevaluate everything she knew about him.

Or thought she knew.

No, it didn’t excuse his behavior or nullify the crap he put her through, but it gave room for concession. She read how it could tear apart families and put friendships through the wringer. Was that why he treated everyone as if they were disposable? Cameron seemed to be the exception, which was why she didn’t understand why he wanted to keep his hospitalization a secret. After everything Cameron had done, did Adonis really think he’d abandon him in the midst of a crisis?

“Who’s bipolar?”

Tess swiveled around. Her mother raised the book in question. “What? No one. It’s for a paper.” She shot out of the chair and wrested it from her hand.

Maia looked her as if she were the crazed one. Tess chose not to expatiate on the topic. Although she never met Adonis, it seemed too personal a subject to casually discuss with someone. Even her own mother.

“I used to work in a drug rehabilitation center, so if you have questions, just ask.”

“You worked as a part-time custodian. I doubt any information you have will be useful.” Shame pinged through her at Maia’s hurt expression. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You know you did,” Maia said, her voice flat, her green eyes flatter. “You’ve made it more than clear how you feel about my failures. Heaven forbid you ever make a mistake in your life.”

Tess winced. If only she knew.

“Dinner will be ready in five,” she snipped out before vacating the room.

So much for starting the holiday off on the right foot.

She clipped on her earrings and tracked down her mother to the dining room. Tess did a double take. Glass candleholders dressed either end of the snowy white, lace tablecloth. Crystal stemware and heavy sterling silverware flanked bone fine china. Linen cloth origami cranes decorated each plate. A colorful bouquet of deeply hued roses and dahlias nested at the table’s center.

It was obvious her mother had put a lot of thought and effort into the display.

Maia emerged from the kitchen with a tray of rolls.

Tess tendered the olive branch. “Do you need help with anything?”

“No,” Maia said shortly.

Well, so much for that avenue.

Her brother darted out of the way as she charged past. “Whoa Ma, where’s the fire?”

“Finish setting the table.”

Tony watched as their mother ascended the free-floating staircase. “What’d you do?”

Tess bristled. “Why does it always have to be me?”

“Because it always is. She was in a good mood before she went to get you.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

He scratched his head. “When are you going to stop punishing her?”

“Are you seriously coming at me with that right now?”

“Cut her some slack. Yeah, she won’t be winning any mother-of-the-year awards, but we’re not too bad off. So get over it already.”

Tess felt the needle gauging her what-the-fuck-o-meter maxing out. Her brother, who up until now had been her staunchest advocator, was chastising her? Since when did he become the voice of reason?

“Tony! Get up here and clean up your room!” her mother yelled from the top floor.

“Ma, come on! It’s just a dinner.”

“Now!”

He shot Tess a reproachful look, as if his sloppiness was a consequent of her actions, before rushing off to complete the task.

As much as it set her teeth on edge, he was right. Maybe if she spent her energy trying to repair burned bridges instead of stomping on the ashes, she wouldn’t have to plan how to avoid her mother over breaks.

After a few last minute preparations, everyone settled down at the table.

“Before we begin,” Ray said, “I’d just like to say how grateful I am to have all of you in my life. I love you more than words can express.”

Maia covered his hand with hers, her expression gentle. “We love you too.”

Where did this ‘we’ word come from?

Eyes resting softly on his wife, Ray hoisted his glass. “To family. May we always stick together, for better or worse.”

Tess resisted the temptation to roll her eyes, but participated in the toast. The cider left an acrid aftertaste on her tongue. Not for the first time she wished there was alcohol in the penthouse. It was one of Ray’s few rules. Alcoholic beverages were prohibited in his household. He claimed that he didn’t condone underage drinking, but they all knew the real reason.

As if that would stop their mother from hitting up the corner store if she fell off the wagon.

Maia giggled as Ray fed her a forkful of his homemade stuffing. Tess shot her brother an exasperated look, but he was too busy scrolling through his phone.

She wondered if it’d be rude if she excused herself to get her own. “This is delicious, Ray,” Tess announced generously. “I think you missed your calling.”

He started, caught off guard by her civility. For some reason, it pinched a nerve. “It’s nothing. Just a hobby.”

“What do you all want to do for Christmas?” Maia asked. “I’m thinking we take a trip to Rockefeller Center and see the tree.”

“Ma, we’re not tourists,” Tony griped in between mouthfuls of fried turkey.

“Doesn’t matter. I want us to start a tradition of our own.” Her mother deferred to Ray. “How does the 23^rd sound?”

Fidgeting, Ray adjusted his tie. “I won’t be able to make it. I’m having dinner with one of my associates and his wife. We can go another time.”

The nervous tic made Tess’s eyes narrow. “Is this dinner a double date?”

He didn’t look at her. “No, just a meeting between coworkers. We’ll just be talking shop.”

The lie stunk to high heaven and back. “So why can’t you bring your wife?” she parried, unwilling to drop the subject.

“Tess, give it a rest,” Maia instructed sharply.

“No, I’m curious.” She sat back and draped her napkin beside her plate. “Is it because your wife isn’t good enough? Are you afraid she won’t be able to keep up with the conversation? Or is she purely ornamental?”

Maia’s chair squealed as it scraped the hardwood floor. “Tess, may I have a word with you?” Her tone brooked no argument.

She sullenly scooted back from the table and joined her mother in the kitchen.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Maia hissed.

“Standing up for you since you can’t do it for yourself.”

“Don’t give me that crap. This is about you making a fool of your stepfather and humiliating me.” She massaged her temples. “This is just like you.”

“Like me how? Calling your husband out because he’s obviously ashamed of you?”

“Stop it! Just stop,” she said, lowering her voice.

“So this is what I get for trying to help,” Tess said sourly.

“This isn’t you helping. It’s you taking your insecurities out on us. Yes, insecurities,” she reiterated at her shocked expression. “I know you like to think otherwise, but I do know my own daughter. You can be overbearing, selfish, and impulsive when you want something. You push until there’s no more room to give.”

Fury whipped through Tess. “I do it for you.”

“No, you do it for yourself. And when you don’t get your way, you sabotage. This is you sabotaging and I need you to stop. I’m happy. I love Ray and neither of us is going anywhere. If you can’t handle that, maybe you should move out.”

“Maybe I will.” Blood roaring, Tess charged out of the kitchen. She ignored whoever called her name, grabbed her keys and phone from her room, and slammed out of the penthouse. Blowing past the confused doorman, she stormed down the sidewalk. Anger armored her against the penetrating cold and biting crosswind.

Tears stung the backs of her eyes.

She couldn’t believe her mother wanted her gone for coming to her defense. Wasn’t that what family was supposed to do?

Somewhere along her scavenging climb to the top, Maia had apparently forgotten the meaning of the word. Her mother made it more than clear that the only thing she cared about was making hubbie happy, even if it meant discarding her own flesh and blood.

Tess may be headstrong and a saboteur, but she would never allow someone to use her as a doormat. She was worth more than that.

Too bad the only thing her mother was good for was spreading her legs.

Her conscience flogged her for the cruel thought.

Whatever. She didn’t care.

Tess would always land on her feet.

With or without the aid of her purported family.

Дата добавления: 2015-10-16