Work of Art ~ the Collection (53 page)

Max watches me run my fingers through my hair and says, “I hope so. Because if you let what happened with Jonathan keep you from being happy, from being able to trust yourself and others, then he’s damaged you twice, and you can’t give him that, Ava. You just can’t.”

“You’re right.” I drop my head and dig my fingers into my thighs. “And what about you? Do you feel like therapy is helping? That maybe one day you’ll be able to enjoy what you’ve achieved and be content?”

“I’m working on it. It’s taken me a long time to deal with my crap.” He pauses, and as he looks out over the vista, he shakes his head and lets out a long sigh.

“So much goes back to a messed up relationship in my past. It put me on a path of self-destruction, but I refuse to let it define me anymore.”

“Are you talking about Chloe?”

His head snaps back as he glances at me with wide eyes. “Yes, how’d you know about her?”

“Jess told me about your relationship with her during college and how she suddenly left.” I expect to see certain amount of pain from my comment, but he handles it without even flinching.

“Yeah, I don’t know if I can fully explain what I was like when I was with her . . . who I became. I was so obsessed, I lost all sense of myself, and it was like part of me died when she left.”

“Oh, Max,” I say softly.

He shakes his head. “When I finally picked myself up, I was determined to prove to her and the world that she walked away from someone so cool, so successful, that she would eventually come to her senses and come back to me. And once I’d achieved all the success and notoriety, not only did she not come back, but none of it meant anything.”

“And so all the women, the art groupies, were part of that?”

“Yeah, I had no interest in getting close to anyone again. I was so freaked out, knowing that if I found someone I actually cared for, I’d become crazy obsessed again. I doubted I could survive round two in that dark place. And so, I surrounded myself with the kind of women I couldn’t get close to.”

“And then . . . ?”

“And then I met you,” he states simply.

I look at him. He’s gazing at the vista with his strong arms folded across his chest. He sighs and leans forward, stretching his arms before resting his hands on his thighs.

“You know, the worst part is that you met me at my lowest point. You’ve seen me in ugly circumstances doing incredibly stupid things. So, now I know you may never trust me around other women . . . or trust that I mean what I say.” He looks down and takes a deep breath before looking back up at me.

I don’t speak for a long moment. “I want to trust you, Max, but I don’t even trust myself. I’m scared.” Overwhelmed, I take a deep breath and watch a bird that’s landed at the top of the ladder before returning his gaze.

“Hell, I’m scared too. For the longest time, I tried to stay away from you. I was so unglued because the feeling of being drawn to you was so intense, and I knew I could ruin both of us. I couldn’t do that. I care too much about you, Ava.”

I take a sharp breath. I wasn’t prepared for our day hiking to lead to such serious conversations. “I don’t want to cause you any pain, Max.”

“I know you don’t. And with everything we’ve gone through, and now that I’m back in therapy, I realize that it can be different with you . . . that I don’t have to repeat those old patterns. But just when I find my strength and confidence in us, you go through this thing with Jonathan, and now you’re down on yourself. I know it feels like things are messed up, Ava, but that doesn’t mean happiness isn’t still worth fighting for . . . because it is.”

He takes my hand, and my heart skips from the sudden connection, the warmth that envelopes me in his tender grasp.

“I’m going to wait for you, Ava, as long as it takes. I don’t want anyone else. I want you, and I’m going to prove it every day until you finally believe me and you want me too.”

I search his eyes, which are blazing with every ounce of life and want that a man can contain. I’m scared . . . not just scared, terrified. Max means everything to me. I’m way past the initial infatuation. This is the tower of a hard-won friendship built one layer at a time that holds me up and gives me hope. I can’t lose him. I can’t destroy what we’ve already fought for.

I search for the right words that will brace us until my wobbly legs find their strength to stand on their own and face him. But the sound of other hikers climbing the ladder to our little oasis bursts our bubble. When our hands pull apart, I feel as if I’ve lost a prize I’d only just won. We stand and prepare to descend the ladder as soon as it’s clear.

On the drive back to Santa Fe, we’re both quiet, and he turns on the radio to fill the emptiness. I relive our times together in my mind: every moment from meeting at the art show in New York to him opening his heart in Bandelier. And when I look back on it all, I note how much we’ve both changed, both together and individually. When we pull into the parking lot and he shuts off the engine, I take his hand and face him.

“Max, I really want to get over everything that’s happened, and I want to be good . . . and I’m going to get there. But until I do, I don’t want to lose you.”

He looks sad, yet hopeful. “You aren’t going to lose me, angel. Like I told you, I’m going to wait for you, okay?”

“Okay.” I smile and we step outside.

“Why don’t you rest for a bit? Dylan wants to meet for dinner here at seven, and I think Jess and Brian are joining us too.”

I give him a hug before I go inside.

I’m distracted at dinner, fidgeting and staring out the big picture window. Everyone else is animated and chatty about the day, but all I want to do is hide in my room. I need to snap out of it, but I’m overwhelmed with emotions teetering between heartfelt desire ignited from Max’s confession and paralyzing fear that I’m going to ruin everything.

After the bill’s paid, we amble to the lobby, and I use the restroom before trekking over to my bungalow. I say goodnight to everyone and promise to meet up for breakfast in the morning.

My reflection in the bathroom mirror startles me. The battle wounds over the last few weeks seem to have etched themselves across my features. I splash cold water repeatedly across my face, hoping to wash it all away.

When I’m done patting my skin dry, I come out and smile to find that Max has waited. As I walk to him, I hear my name called from the opposite direction.

“Ava!”

Hell no.
I don’t even turn around, but I can hear him move quickly toward me.

“Ava, please wait.” There’s an unsettling nervous edge to his tone.

Shock turns to fury on Max’s face.

No, fuck no.
I’m instantly angry. The flames turn my eyes hot red. I came to Santa Fe to get away from even the thought of Jonathan, and he stands before me, acting as if he owns a piece of me. My rage is so big I want to emotionally set him on fire and watch him burn. My voice is dangerously dark and heavy.

“Jonathan . . . what the hell are you doing here?”

Chapter Twelve / The Masterpiece

I am seeking. I am striving. I am in it with all my heart.

~ Vincent van Gogh

“A
va!” he calls out. His expression looks frantic.

I’m startled at the sight of him. He looks like hell, as if he hasn’t slept for days.

“I want to know what you’re doing here, Jonathan? How’d you find me?”

“I need to talk to you, but you won’t take my calls. I had to find you. I’m not leaving until you give me a chance to make you understand.”

Hell, why is he doing this
? “I don’t have anything to say to you. You need to leave me alone.”

Max marches toward us.
This won’t be good.

“Ava, please, give me ten minutes to explain everything, and if you still don’t want to talk after that, I promise I won’t contact you anymore.”

Max steps right in front of me, as if Jonathan’s presence is a flimsy stand-in for someone significant. His testosterone-edged gesture draws a line in the sand. Only inches away, he faces me and says, “Come on, Ava. Let’s go.” With his clenched fists and steely expression, he looks so tightly wound I’m amazed he hasn’t taken Jonathan down already.

“Ten minutes, Ava, just ten minutes,” Jonathan chants from behind Max. I’m impressed with his bravery in the face of a dangerously angry Max. Desperate want can cause the most sighted man to be blind.

Max glares over his shoulder and, in a venom-tinged voice, growls, “Since we’re in a nice hotel, I’d prefer not to beat the crap out of you, old man, but I will if I have to.”

“Ava, please.” He leans sideways to look at me. His begging weakens my resolve. Maybe one last conversation with Jonathan is the only way to finally put this all behind me. I rein in my fury.

Surely there can be no winners here. But I’ve had a part in creating this problem. Now I need to step up and take care of it.

I raise my chin, rest my hands on Max’s forearms and say, “I need to do this, Max. It’s the only way to move forward. Please understand, okay?”

His mouth drops open and his eyes narrow. He looks devastated, and I almost lose my resolve. “I don’t want you to be alone with him, Ava.” Fear flashes in his eyes.

“I’ll talk to him right here in the lodge. It’ll be okay.”

His stare is long and hard. He fishes in his pocket, pulls out one of the keycards to his room and hands it to me before stepping aside.

“If you need me, you know where I’ll be.” His eyes have a haunted look.

I hate myself for what this is doing to him.

He turns to Jonathan. “If you cross the line, I swear I’ll come for you, Alistair.” He gives me one last look before he walks away, and I feel as if my heart’s leaving with him.

Jonathan firmly takes my elbow and leads me to a table in the corner of the bar. I sink into the chair, fold my arms over my chest, and wait.

“So are you with Max now? Ava, surely you know better, considering his reputation.” He licks his dry lips nervously, and his eyes dart sideways.

My stare becomes steely. “That’s rich. You, of all people, warning me about Max. If that’s how you want to spend your ten minutes . . . be my guest.”

His eyes widen, and he takes a deep breath and looks me in the eye. “Ava, I’m sorry I deceived you. I’d give anything to go back and redo what’s happened, but I can’t. All I can ask is that you to try to understand the hell I’ve been living . . . and how it led to so many bad decisions . . . so many things I regret.” He hangs his head and clenches and unclenches his hands.

“You’re young, Ava, and you don’t know what it is to be stuck in a broken marriage where all hope of real happiness is gone, and how that can drive a man mad, and lead him to desperate acts.”

Is this supposed to make me feel better? Because it isn’t working.
I give him a blank stare.

“Several years ago, my wife almost died from cancer, and the effects of her treatments left her not just infertile, but with absolutely no libido. This was expected. However, once she recovered and began regaining her strength, I thought that part of our relationship would recover too, but she still had no interest. At first, I tried to deal with it, since I loved her and had every intention of staying loyal to her.”

I know where this is going and my stomach turns.

“After a while, a man’s needs play tricks on his mind. As I got worn down, I convinced myself that, as long as I was attentive and took care of my wife’s emotional needs, some outside satisfaction would allow me to stay in an affectionless marriage. But once I went down that road, things got out of hand.”

He takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes. He looks weary.

“I did try to get Heather to go to a specialist. I thought there were hormones or something she could take to make things better, but by then, she didn’t seem to care anymore. She became like a shut in, filling her life with friends visiting, reading, and being obsessive about online shopping and collecting art. When the opportunity came up to open the West Coast office of
Art+trA,
she actually encouraged me to take it—I think it was so I’d stop pressuring her about our lack of physical intimacy. I’d still travel to New York when she needed me. I could take her to the occasional event when she had the energy to attend. She liked the prestige of my position in the art world and my family background.

“When you came into my life, Ava, I was already a man living two lives—the doting husband in New York, and the lothario pursuing women to act out my every fantasy in Los Angeles. When we met, I was instantly attracted to you, and I should’ve been careful, since we’d be working together.”

His sad eyes search mine, as if he’s expecting a sympathetic or compassionate response from me. The idea of that only makes me feel angrier.

“You know, that’s the greatest irony . . . The very act of us working together brought me closer to you. I got to be in the presence of an alluring, sexual creature, and a young woman of extreme intelligence and depth. I gradually realized you were my ideal woman . . . the woman I’d always waited for and would never be able to resist.”

Ideal woman?
I had no idea his feelings ran this deep. He’s lost his way in Fantasyland and needs to get off the Mad Tea Party ride so he can see straight.

“I think Heather knew I was falling in love with you before I did. She may have tolerated my infidelity as long as no one knew, but my feelings for you threatened our sham of a marriage. What would people think? My wife comes from extreme wealth and has every resource at her command. So, she stepped in and drew the line.”

Yes, she did
, I think, as my eyes grow wide. What did he expect?

“But, it’s different this time. I can’t just walk away from you. You’ve brought out emotions in me I didn’t think I’d ever feel again. I want you to be mine, Ava. I want to take care of you and wake up next to you in our bed. I want to show you the world,” he declares, with a soft smile.

“I told Heather I want a divorce. Ava, you’re the woman I’m meant to be with.”

I’m horrified. “No! Why would you do that? You can’t leave your wife because of me.”

“Look, I know you’re angry . . . you’re furious with me right now, and you have every right. But if you’d give us a chance, I think you’d see how perfect we are for each other. We’ve already proven we have incredible sexual chemistry; we share so many passions in our work and interests, and I think in time, you’ll come to love me too. I’ll be devoted to you . . . We can have a great life together.”