"The best anyone has ever given me." Rosa's voice was breathless, her lips still tingling, and she couldn't stop staring at Drake. Couldn't stop being amazed that she'd actually found him. And that he'd found her. "I'm actually wondering if I should leave again now just so I can come back to that."
Drake's mouth was on hers again so fast that she didn't even have time to take her next breath. And it wasn't only her knees that went weak and her lips that tingled from his kiss. Every last cell in her body vibrated with want.
"That's what you get when you stay." She was still spinning, still trying to get her breath back, when he pulled her even closer and turned to his brother. "Were you being an ass again?"
"Don't worry," Alec said. "I apologized."
"And I accepted," she told Drake.
"We may even like each other now," Alec drawled.
"Baby steps," she teased with a laugh. "Seriously, though, we've agreed to get to know each other better before we make any more snap judgments."
She could see how relieved Drake was that she and his brother weren't at each other's throats. And how happy he was to tell her, "My father is back from his job site, and he's making dinner for all of us. He's surprised that we're all here, but I think he's pretty happy about it."
"Of course he is." Her heart swelled with hope that Drake and his father would soon grow closer. "I can't wait to meet him."
Now that she'd finally made the big decision to move forward with her life, rather than keep hiding, she had so much to do. Contact that lawyer who had come to her defense on that TV talk show so that she could begin her own personal proceedings against the creep who had taken and sold the pictures. Call the network to let them know she no longer planned to be on the show. And, of course, finally talk to her mom face to face about it all.
But after nearly a week in hiding, she could wait one more night to set the wheels of the next big changes in her life into motion.
Tonight, it was Drake's turn.
*
"My father--" Drake paused, obviously weighing his words carefully. Alec had gone inside ahead of them, and they were now standing alone on the steps just outside the door. "I've never brought a woman home before. None of us have, so this is a pretty big deal. And when I told him I was painting you--"
"He wasn't exactly thrilled about it?"
A muscle jumped in Drake's jaw. "I won't let him hurt you."
"He won't." She smiled to let him know she meant it. "Whether his reaction came from my reputation or his worries that you and I are repeating his history with your mother--I'm not going to fall apart. And I'm not going to run into hiding again either." She put her hand on his jaw, loving the scratch of stubble against her palm. "I'm done with that." She pressed a kiss to his lips--a promise of many more to come. "I have so much to tell you, but right now, let's enjoy dinner with your family."
Despite the questions in his eyes, he let her lead them in the door. "Mmm," Rosa said, pausing to inhale the delicious aroma of roasting tomatoes and peppers. "It smells great." At the same time, thinking of her mother and brothers making and sitting down to dinner without her made her chest ache.
A man with salt-and-pepper hair looked up from the island where he was chopping peppers. Drake's father. He didn't smile at her the way Suz and Harry had upon meeting her, but he didn't scowl like Alec had either. Instead, he simply stared. Stared in a way that reminded her of the way Drake sometimes looked at her--with a painter's eyes that saw far beyond those of the layman.
"Dad, this is Rosa. Rosa, this is my father, William."
She heard that note of warning in Drake's voice again, and though she loved him for wanting to protect her, she didn't need him to slay her dragons anymore. She squeezed his hand to let him know she was okay, then slipped hers free to go meet his father properly.
Drake's dad hadn't moved from the island, hadn't even put down the knife, but she didn't let that deter her. The first test of her fresh start had been walking into the yarn store with her head held high. The second had been standing her ground with Alec, and then agreeing to start fresh after he'd apologized. She refused to fail this third test, even if William Sullivan didn't look like he was planning to make things easier for her.
"It's so nice to meet you." When he still didn't reply, knowing Drake was about to pounce--and that each of his siblings was watching with no small measure of concern--she turned on the faucet at the kitchen sink, washed her hands, and made herself ask in an easy voice, "Are you making Enchiladas Suizas?" Again, she didn't wait for his reply before she slid another knife out of the wood block on the counter along with another cutting board and began to chop the onions. "My mom taught me how to make enchiladas when I was still so small that I needed to stand on a stool to reach the counter. It's been a while since I made them, so I hope you don't mind if my knife skills are a little rusty."
The only sound for a few long moments was the steady beat of the steel blade landing against the wood board. Everyone's gaze lay on her, but none was more intense than that of Drake's father. This moment, she knew, could go either way. Silently, she prayed for the good one, even with the tension currently thick enough to cut with the knife in her hand.
"I'd appreciate the help, Rosa." William looked up at Drake. "Margaritas are in the blender if you two want one. I could use a top-up." He turned back to Rosa. "And I want you to know that if I could run that asshole who took those pictures of you down the middle of my table saw, I would do it in a heartbeat."
Rosa's knife was the one falling still this time as she looked up from the onions to give Drake's father a huge smile. She now knew where Drake had learned his knight-in-shining-armor skills. "I'll let you know if I need to borrow it."
And just like that, the freeze-frame that had been holding everyone captive disappeared. Suz and Harry laughed over Oscar rolling over and begging to get his belly rubbed, Alec walked out of the kitchen to take a call, and Drake headed for the blender while Rosa barely held in a huge sigh of relief.
She wasn't much of a drinker, but it had been one heck of a day, so when Drake handed her the filled-to-the-brim margarita, she welcomed the cool bite of the lime, the warmth of the tequila. But while the alcohol went straight into her bloodstream, it was the kiss Drake gave her after her first sip that ran a million times hotter through her veins.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Drake had rarely seen his father this relaxed. This animated. Same went for his brothers and Suzanne. Primarily because Rosa had a way of drawing people out of themselves.
Where Drake had always been more inclined to sit back and watch, she jumped in with questions and sincere interest in every answer given, every story told. It was, he realized, the way she'd always been with him at the cabin. Even when she'd been afraid to get close to anyone, she hadn't been able to stop herself from asking him about his father and the paintings, hadn't been able to keep from caring about the man who had found her on his cliffs.
She'd always glowed bright, even on that first day when the rain had been pouring down on her as she sobbed. Tonight, however, she radiated so much light that Drake could barely contain his need to paint her. Along with the paintings out in the back of the SUV, he'd brought a stash of paints and a couple of blank canvases.
Something had happened this afternoon while she was out walking with Oscar. She'd always been strong in his eyes, but before now it had been a struggle to get her to see it. Whereas tonight, she'd come back roaring like a lioness. One who finally seemed to know her own strength. As soon as dinner was over, he needed to talk to her alone to find out what had transformed her so deeply, inside and out.
And so he could tell her, again, just how much he loved her. More now than ever as she laughed with his family over enchiladas and margaritas, Oscar snoring softly beneath the big dining table.
"Okay, let me make sure I have this straight," she was saying. "The four of you were hanging from the rafters like monkeys when you were building this house, and that was right
when the inspector walked in?"
"I was doing a handstand, actually," Suz said with more than a little pride.
Rosa turned to his father. "What did you do?"
"I told Brian we were training for our family circus and got up there with them. And then I grounded them until they were teenagers."
Laughter burst from her. "I shouldn't be surprised. My brothers and I were just as nuts when we were kids."
"You think you can beat the rafters?" Alec challenged.
"As soon as we could walk, my parents had us on water skis. One day, I found that old Go-Go's video--you know the one where they're waterskiing in pyramid formation? Even though I was only eight, I told my five-and six-year-old brothers we had to do it, and we couldn't tell my parents anything until we'd perfected the trick. We convinced one of my friend's older brothers to take us out, and when I climbed up on their shoulders, it was like flying."
"I'm impressed," Harry said. "The four of us talked about trying a waterskiing pyramid, but we always chickened out."
"Good call." Her mouth quirked up in an adorable half smile. "When we got back to the dock, I've never seen my parents so mad. We were also pretty much grounded for the rest of our lives--although they bragged about it plenty when they thought we couldn't hear them."
"As a parent, you want your kids to be fearless," Drake's father said. "You want them to believe that they can do absolutely anything. But then when they push the limits, all you can think about is how destroyed you'd be if anything ever happened to them."
He put his fork down, the entire tenor of dinner having shifted as soon as he'd said destroyed.
"I know I haven't said this nearly enough, but I'm so damned proud of all of you."
"We know you are, Dad," Suz said immediately, obviously intent on smoothing over the situation the way she had her whole life.
But where had smoothing things over, where had brushing things under the rug, ever gotten them, apart from an awkward, distant relationship with their father? Earlier, Rosa had told Drake she was done running and hiding. They could all take a lesson from her.
Right here, right now.
"No." Drake looked his father straight in the eye. "We don't know it."
"Drake." Harry didn't often sound threatening. But when he did, he was big enough and good enough with his fists that you knew to take it seriously. "We don't need to do this tonight."
Drake had always believed Rosa was strong enough to risk speaking up, and resilient enough to weather making a huge change. He knew his sister and brothers were too.
The only person at the table he didn't know nearly well enough was his father. But he wanted so badly to get to know him, wanted more than anything else to bridge the gap between them before the distance grew so big that no one dared. Tonight, with Rosa by his side. Even if it meant the possibility of upsetting every member of his immediate family.
"You know why we were hanging from the rafters that day?" Thirty years of the frustration and pain that Drake had always been so careful to shove away finally rose, hot and fierce. "To try to get your attention. To try to get you to see that even though you'd lost your wife, there were four kids waiting for you." Rosa slid her hand into his beneath the table, and he let her warmth, her strength, fuel him. "We needed you. But all you've ever seemed to need are the paintings."
"That's not true." His father's deep voice vibrated with emotion.
"Then tell me," Drake said in a voice that he deliberately softened, "tell all of us something that is true."
"I didn't know what to do." His father had never sounded more defeated. "I never knew what to do, not with your mother and not with any of you after she was gone." He looked at each of his kids. "I still don't know, couldn't think of any other way to get you here than to say you had thirty days to take the paintings, or I would get rid of them." He ran a hand over his eyes, held it there as though he couldn't bear to see their expressions. "I didn't think any of you would come otherwise."
Drake needed his father to know, "I didn't come for the paintings. I came for answers."
Alec had been silent throughout the heated exchange, but now he said, "So did I."
Suz took a deep breath before adding, "Me too."
Harry had always been the hardest to read of the four of them, the one who held his thoughts and opinions the closest. But though he hadn't wanted to unlatch the cage, now that the wild animals were running free, he obviously realized there was no point in trying to get them back inside. Especially when, at his core, he was just as wild as the rest of them. "That's why I'm here too."
Though William Sullivan's hand was strong enough to easily lift a steel beam, it shook as it dropped away from his face. "I know I owe all of you answers. But I don't know where to start. I never have."
"At the beginning." Harry's entire adult life had been devoted to studying history, so it made sense that he would be the one to direct the timeline. "Start with the day you met our mother."
"You know that already," their father said, "how we met at a party my brother Ethan threw in the city. Lynn was the most beautiful woman I'd ever set eyes on--and the most challenging too."
"What do you mean, challenging?" Suz asked.
"Your mother almost seemed to float, as if her feet never quite touched the ground. And she was obviously overwhelmed by the people, the noise. So I asked her if she wanted to leave, to find someplace quiet." Drake could see that his father was lost in memories. "I took her hand and vowed to keep her safe. She seemed relieved. She told me she needed help to stay grounded. We fell in love that night as we searched for someplace quiet to go to get to know each other better, and I painted her for the first time the following morning. We were married soon after, and then we had you, Alec. She loved you. Loved all of you so much."
"Then why did she leave?" Drake needed to know the truth, once and for all, even if it hurt. "Was it because four kids were too many?"
The way his father's eyes went wide with shock at the question was already an answer. One that filled Drake with long overdue relief.
"The four of you were the reason she tried to stay. But--" Their father ran his hand over his eyes again, as though he wished he could hide. "It was my fault. I drove her away. With my paintings."
"How could your paintings have driven her away?" Suz asked. "You worshipped her in them."
"I more than worshipped her. Just as you said earlier when you didn't know I was in the house, I was obsessed. And that only made things worse."
Drake watched his father at war with himself, as if he wasn't sure that he should continue. "Whatever you've got to tell us, we can take it."
"I know you can. The only one I'm not sure about is myself."
"We're family," Suz reminded him in a voice drenched with tears that were clearly about to fall. "We're supposed to be here for each other. For you."
Harry nodded. "Keep going, Dad."
Only Alec didn't look completely on board with finally hearing the truth about the end of their parents' marriage. His face was stony, his eyes hard.
Regret heavy in his voice, their father finally continued. "After we were married, I found out things about Lynn's past. About how she'd often closed into herself as a teenager and tried to shut out the rest of the world, and then she did it even more as a young woman in her twenties. Noise, crowds, speed--she couldn't take any of it. But whenever she was pregnant, whenever she had a baby in her arms, she seemed at peace. Content. As close to grounded as she could be." He grimaced. "At least, until my paintings of her started to find an audience all over the world. When one of my paintings made the cover of Time, it was similar to having something go viral today on the Internet. And she hated the spotlight." He shook his head. "Hated isn't the right word for it. It was more that she worried that everyone walking down the street was looking at her. She became more and more paranoid that people were saying things about her. She stopped wanting to go out. Stopped wanting to see anyone, even family, because she swore they were
all judging her. Shaming her."
"I know that feeling," Rosa said, the first thing she'd said since Drake's family had begun this difficult discussion. "I know how much easier it seems to run and hide from the world, rather than to face it."
"She wasn't strong like you are, Rosa," William said. "She could never have weathered what you're dealing with right now. Five minutes in the kitchen with you was all it took to see that you aren't going to let anyone back you into a corner and keep you there. When Drake told me he was painting a woman who didn't want anyone to see the paintings, I couldn't believe it. Couldn't stand the thought of his stepping into my shoes, desperately trying to hold on to a woman who was always meant to float away. Repeating history. But I now know that isn't going to happen, because you have a resilience that my wife never did." Grief was etched into every line on his face. "I thought that if I painted Lynn enough times, I'd finally find her hidden vein of tenacity. The fearlessness that is in each of our children. Only to realize too late that all my paintings ever did was drive her farther away. Higher up into the sky. Until one day, she simply disappeared. I'll never be able to forgive myself for driving her away."
A dark and ominously heavy cloud threatened to descend over them. But Drake was tired of his family being shrouded in darkness. As his father had said earlier, thirty years was long enough.
"It wasn't your fault."
Everyone but Rosa started in their chairs. She simply kept holding on to his hand while he fought to finally heal the wounds that had torn his family apart for his entire life.
"It is," his father insisted. "I just told you the truth. A truth I've been so ashamed of for so long. And I understand if all of you hate me."
"I hate that she left. I hate that she wasn't strong enough to withstand fame, the heat of the spotlight. I hate that she couldn't figure out a way to get some help so that she could stick around and see her kids grow up. But I don't hate you, Dad. I've never hated you, even when you were gone all the time and it would have been so much easier if I did."
"Are you saying--" Hope lit his father's eyes, so much hope that Drake's chest clenched tight to realize just how badly his father needed to know his kids loved him. "You actually forgive me?"