“I was angry and hurt. First Dad, then Mom and you.” He loosens his tie and pops the top button of his shirt. “I felt betrayed. Broken. Lost.” He shrugs, picking at the label on the bottle. “I did for a long time.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I know what it’s like to feel those things.”
He drums his fingers on his knee, while piercing me with an earnest look. “She didn’t cheat on you, Vander.”
“I know.”
His brows climb to his hairline. “If you know, why haven’t you done anything about it?”
“I’m doing something now.” I’m not getting into anything with him until I’ve shared everything with Kendall.
He blinks repeatedly while drilling me with a look. “Are you saying you’re in Portland for Mom?”
I nod. “Not a day has gone by where I haven’t missed her. Where I haven’t woken up thinking of her. My soul aches for her, West. I know it’s been eight years, but I couldn’t come for her until that bastard was behind bars.”
He nods while sipping his beer. “She’s coming tonight.”
My eyes widen. “She knows about my showing?”
“You weren’t the only one keeping tabs or the only one pining. She has never forgotten you either, Van.”
My heart soars at that revelation. I was planning on visiting her tomorrow, but I should’ve known fate would play a part. “Why are you here?”
Setting his half-empty beer bottle down, he leans forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “I don’t want to see her hurt, any more than she has been. I wanted to let you know she was coming so you’d agree to speak with her. I thought I’d have to persuade you, but I clearly got some things wrong.”
“You thought I hated her and her devotion was one-sided.”
“Can you blame me?”
I shake my head before tipping it back and swallowing more beer. “Why is she coming to see me?”
He drains the rest of his beer and stands. “That’s for Mom to tell you.”
I rise to my feet. “It was good to see you, West, and you don’t need to worry. I want to see Kendall. I need to talk to her too. I’m not here to hurt her. It’s the opposite.”
Air expels from his mouth and the tension on his face eases a little. “Good. Just keep an open mind, and let her explain everything, yeah?”
His cryptic comment has me intrigued, and now I can’t wait for Kendall to show up.
“Van.” West turns around when he reaches my door. “Not that you need it, but you have my permission. I won’t stand in your way if Mom is who you want. I never would have. My main frustration back then was how you both kept it a secret. That hurt so damn much.”
“You should know she hated that. She agonized over it and carried so much guilt. I did too.”
He bobs his head. “I know. We talked about it a few years later when I finally took my head out from my ass.”
“You were my best friend, and I hated sneaking around behind your back, but she is the love of my life. Her needs came first. Before mine. Before yours. I won’t apologize for prioritizing her.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way. I just want her to be happy. I want her to be treated right. I know we don’t know each other anymore, but I know you’re a good man.”
“I’d like to rectify that.” I walk toward him. “I’m planning to stick around town.” It all depends on how things with Kendall go.
“I’d like that, but you need to talk to her first.”
“I’d do anything for her, and I want the same things you do. I promise you I’ll treat her like a queen, which is what she deserves.”
“She does, and see that you do, Vander, because if you hurt her, you’ll have me to answer to.”
49
KENDALL
“I think I’m going to be sick.” I slam to a halt at the side of the building where Vander’s Blue Morpho Gallery resides. It’s the official opening of his Portland gallery, and I was praying the court case against Gregory Henley would have concluded before this night because I really wanted to attend.
It’s been eight long years, and I’ve been on a countdown to this night from the moment I fled Colorado for Oregon.
Thankfully, things went my way, and the bastard is now rotting behind bars. He took a few gangsters down with him, so I don’t think there is anyone left on the outside to do his bidding for him anymore. For the first time in years, I am safe and free to see Vander.
“It’s okay, chica,” June says, propping me up. “You can do this. You’ve been waiting so long to make things right.” She turns to me with tears in her eyes. “Tonight is the night you reclaim your life. It’s time.”
I pull her into a hug. “Thank you for doing this with me.” She holds me tight, rubbing her hand up and down my back to soothe the tremors wracking my body. I ease back, taking my friend’s hands in mine. “I don’t just mean offering me support tonight. I mean everything you have done. You are a true friend. Carly too.”
I took June into my confidence before I left Colorado Springs because I was worried about her working in the same building as that snake. She quit on the spot, and four months after I moved to Portland with Ridge and Stella, newlyweds June and Carly took the plunge and joined us.
“I love you, Ken.” She squeezes my hands. “But no more deflecting. It’s time to get your man.”
I’m sure the pretty young woman at the door can tell I’m terrified because I can’t stop shaking and my palms are sweaty as I take the booklet from her. That’s the only way I can explain the strange look she’s giving me. “Today’s showing is an exclusive first look at Vander Henley’s new Rebirth collection,” she explains, as June and I trade a knowing look. “Beginning next week, the gallery will exhibit a curated selection of artwork from new and upcoming talent.” Her gaze rakes up and down my body, and I’m starting to feel uncomfortable.
It can’t be what I’m wearing because I went all out to look my absolute best. Stella did my makeup, and I had my hair blow-dried and styled into soft waves at the salon on my way home from work. I’m wearing my soft, gray three-quarter-length wool coat over a blush-pink dress with tiny crisscrossing spaghetti straps, a fitted bodice, and a skater-style skirt. It hangs just below my knees. Silver and black stilettos and a black-pink-and-gray-striped purse complete the outfit. I know I look good, so her haughty expression must be for some other reason.
Perhaps I don’t look wealthy enough to afford one of Vander’s paintings, which is probably true at the minute. Our bakery business is thriving, and we make a comfortable living, but it doesn’t extend to buying expensive artwork to hang on the walls of my new five-bedroom home. I used up most all of my savings to move us to Southwest Hills, and the rest will be needed to pay for Ridge’s college education now that my ex-husband is broke and not in a position to cover it. I could sue, because it was a condition of our divorce, but I won’t bother. As long as I can afford to send our youngest to college, it doesn’t really matter who pays. I put Curtis Hawthorne behind me a long time ago, and I want him to remain permanently in the past.