My Way Back to You: New York Times Bestselling Author Read online

  My Way Back to You

  New York Times Bestselling Author

  Claire Contreras

  Copyright © 2018 by Claire Contreras

  Cover Design: By Hang Le

  Cover Photo: Kessler Photography & Film

  Editor: Ashley Williams

  Proofreader: Janice Owen

  ISBN: 978-0-9995844-3-9

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  The hardest part is coming to the realization that no one is really going to save you but yourself, that pain is your life’s most valuable teacher and that you will never find happiness until you are completely in love with yourself. That’s all.

  r.m. drake

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  Also by Claire Contreras

  Chapter One

  Tessa

  I pulled my trench coat shut and crossed my arms over myself in hopes that it would shield me against the cold wind as I neared the hotel. One of the perks of working for Prim was the conferences they sent me to. In the last seven months, I’d visited Spain, Milano, Venice, Rome, Cannes, and London. More places than I’d been to in my life before this, for sure. Every trip brought new information, new experiences, and I was gladly taking it all in. I hadn’t been designing as much as I thought I would, but I’d been learning more than I thought imaginable in such a short period of time. My boss, Yamina, said she was trying to groom me for success. Prim would open their U.S. branch soon, and they’d be looking for people to head the departments, which meant I had a real shot at big-time growth in the company. The idea both terrified and elated me.

  The bellhop greeted me with a smile as I walked inside. “Good morning, ma’am. Are you arriving for the conference?”

  “Good morning, yes, would you mind pointing me in the right direction?” I smiled as wide as my stingingly cold face allowed me.

  “Take the corridor to the left. You’ll see the registration tables there.”

  I’d been there seven months and my French was still pretty awful. They just spoke so fast and had this thing they did with the back of their throat when they pronounced words. It was lovely to listen to and difficult to imitate. I’d spent hours in the café by my apartment just listening to people around me talk. Thankfully, most people understood English and spoke it better than I could imagine myself speaking French. Much to my chagrin, my sister seemed to have no problem picking it up. Though, I had a slight suspicion it had something to do with an elusive man she’d met a few months ago. She’d broken up with Ben and started dating the new guy shortly after she moved to Paris to be closer to me.

  My phone vibrated in my pocket just as the woman at the registration table handed me my badge. I fished it out quickly and smiled at the sight of Cody’s name on the screen. Cody, the buyer from Barney’s I’d befriended and stayed in touch with, frequented these conferences as much as I did. The fashion industry was a small world and coming to these conferences made you see that. I answered the call before it was sent to voicemail.

  “Where are you?”

  “I just walked in.” I pushed forward through the crowd that had gathered around the tea and coffee table. “This place is a madhouse.”

  “I told you.”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t believe you.”

  He chuckled into the phone. “I see you. At three o’clock.”

  My eyes bounced to that direction. He was wearing a powder-blue suit that matched his eyes, and his blond hair brushed neatly to the side. I smiled, disconnected the call, and slid my phone back into my pocket as I reached him.

  “Look at you, vest and everything.” I reached up to kiss him on both cheeks.

  “Look at you embracing the European culture.”

  I laughed. “You too? Samson gave me a lot of crap about it last time he was here.”

  “Sam is the brother of you-know-who?”

  “Yes.” I smiled because he remembered not to mention Rowan’s name.

  “How’s he doing these days? Last time we spoke, you said he was going in for an MRI.”

  I swallowed thickly, trying to contain the emotion brought on by those simple questions, but a stupid tear broke rank and slipped down my cheek. Quickly, I wiped it away and then cleared my throat. “They found a mass in his brain and did a biopsy to confirm that it’s cancerous. He’s staying positive and says he’s fine, but I feel like I need to see him in person to determine that for myself. He will be in town this week to see a doctor here.”

  Sam had said it was nothing serious, as if that diagnosis were ever a joke, but he was dealing with it as best he could, and if that meant making light of things, then I’d follow his lead. He’d be staying with me for a few days while he saw the specialist. Apparently, the research in Europe was more advanced than what we had back home.

  “You’re a good friend.” Cody put a hand on my shoulder and stood in front of me to look me in the eye. I smiled shakily. “Let’s talk about something else. I wouldn’t want you to ruin the tough reputation you’ve built in the industry in such a short amount of time.”

  “You’re right.” I cracked a smile. “Do you think anyone noticed?”

  “I think you’re safe.” He grinned before placing his hand on my expansive belly. “Any names yet?”

  “Nope.”

  “You aren’t going to be one of those hippy moms who waits to name her baby until after she takes it home, are you?”

  I swatted his hand away playfully. “It’s a baby not an it, and no.” I laughed before hooking my arm around his and letting him lead me into the first room. “I just can’t think of any names. I feel like I need to look him in the eyes first.”

  “Hippy mom.”

  “Says the guy wearing the powder-blue suit.”

  “I’m a trend-setter, darling.”

  We got a few dirty looks as we walked into the room for being loud, which made us cling to each other tighter as we fought to stifle our laughter. We moved to the front of the room quickly, found two seats in the second row, and got comfortable.

  “This is more crowded than Milan,” Cody whispered.

  “It’s because this is the hi-tech one,” I whispered back. “They’re going to show us whatever groundbreaking technology they’re using to put the material together.”

  “I’m only here because it’s mandatory. I’ve already been to three of these presentations.” Cody pulled back
and looked at me, eyebrows pulled up. “So, what are they teaching you at Prim?”

  I laughed. “You ask me this every time we see each other.”

  “And you never answer my question.”

  “Because you’re making me think you’re some sort of spy,” I whispered. He chuckled softly and faced forward.

  The presentation began, and we watched in silence as they unveiled a white machine that looked like a sewing machine-loom hybrid. Of course, it wasn’t life-sized, but that didn’t seem to dampen the excitement of the inventor. Over the next hour, the man explained the different production stages of fabric and how this machine was able to streamline them to create a superior product. Admittedly, it wasn’t very interesting, but nothing presented as a PowerPoint ever was.

  Cody must have glanced at his watch five times. I fully expected him to walk out in the middle of the presentation like he’d done in Milan when we saw a similar one, but he managed to stay in his seat. When the presentation finished, we clapped and stood to make our way to the exit. As we did, he walked slightly in front of me, turning every so often to make sure I was okay. If the situation were different, it may have been weird, as if the gesture were too intimate. Since there was no way anyone would be interested in an enormously pregnant woman unless it was the man who’d made her that way, which he wasn’t, I knew he was just being a good friend.

  Chapter Two

  Rowan

  I spotted her the minute she walked into the room. She was impossible to miss, with a laugh that lit up the place. I had a feeling she’d be in this conference, but because Fashion Week was about to launch, I wasn’t sure I’d get a chance to see her. I had, and I regretted ever wanting to. There was a burn in the middle of my chest that remained as I watched her speak to a familiar-looking man. I couldn’t place him, but I knew him, and I hated him. I hated the protective way in which he held her as he pulled her through the crowd. I hated the way in which he looked at her while she spoke, as if the sun hung on each word she said. I hated the way it ripped me apart, and I hated that I was to blame for it all.

  My heart launched into my throat as they neared. I wondered if she’d see me then. She didn’t. She laughed again at something he said into her ear. I let my gaze slide down her and saw her bulging belly. It wasn’t big, but she was obviously pregnant. How far along? I couldn’t tell. My eyes snapped up to her face, to his. They both looked elated, his hand on her stomach as they spoke. Agony clawed at my throat. I managed to push it down and turn to the woman beside me.

  “How far along do you think she is?”

  The woman’s brows pulled in slightly. We’d just been talking about fabric and elasticity, so it wasn’t as if my out-of-left-field question was completely ludicrous to ask. She examined Tessa for a moment before shrugging. “It’s hard to tell. Maybe six months? I think I looked about that size at around six months.”

  “Thank you.”

  Six months? I typed furiously into the search engine on my phone, looking for photos of pregnant women and how far along they were. I compared her to before and after photos of women who were as skinny as she was. According to Google, she must have been maybe five months along. Thinner women showed faster was what the explanations on the message boards stated. Fucking message boards.

  How had she moved on so quickly?

  How had she moved on at all?

  I hadn’t.

  I’d finally pulled myself out of the drunken stupor I’d been in from the moment I let her go. I wasn’t proud of it in the least.

  It had been seven months and I was just now pulling myself together and working on what I set out to do—make Hawthorne Industries a household name. I had a plan. A plan that included buying back the company, filing for divorce, and going after my girl. The longer I stood there and watched her with her preppy, blond baby daddy, the more I doubted anything at all coming of my plan. What would I do? Waltz up there and take her from him, caveman style? Demand that she come with me when she was pregnant with his child? No. I’d lost her. My throat closed up at the realization.

  I spent the next hour watching them, and when it was over, I idled and watched them interact with others. I could walk up to her and say hi. She’d be socially forced to tell me about the relationship and the baby. I’d do the math. Figure out how long it’s been since she decided to move on. It would be unfair, though, which was why I couldn’t do it. My brother was arriving soon, anyway. I was sure he knew about it and hadn’t told me because he didn’t want to hurt me.

  It wouldn’t be fair to walk into her life when I couldn’t offer her anything. Besides, I still had almost three years left in my deal with the devil.

  I looked up at her one last time, she was nodding at something the woman in front of her was saying. The guy was still at her side, but he was on his phone. Who was he? It didn’t matter. The day I let her go, I forfeited the right to question anything about her life. It was the reason I’d thrown my phone into the lake one evening when I was itching to call her and find out how she was doing. It was also why I changed my phone number. A part of me had thought that I would be able to coast through our time apart, knowing she’d be busy trying to create a name for herself in the industry. I hadn’t expected this though. This was exactly why people said life was a bitch, because she forced you to look at things you fucked up square in the face and deal with them. Life was about making mistakes and having the culmination of those mistakes rubbed in your face continuously. It was where our fight or flight responses kicked in—would you fly or would you fight?

  I decided on the former and forced myself to leave the conference.

  Chapter Three

  Tessa

  Eight months later . . .

  “I think it’s cute that you don’t think Cody likes you as more than a friend.”

  “He knows he’s just a friend.”

  I glanced over. No matter what I said, Sam, along with everyone else, automatically paired us together. I’d made it a point to keep Cody at arm’s length out of fear that he really did see me as more than a friend. The last thing I wanted or needed was a relationship of any kind. I had a demanding job and a demanding child. That was all I needed.

  “A friend who got you pregnant,” he stated, rubbing a hand over his short hair and drawing my attention to the scar on the side of his head. It still hurt to think about how he got it. I blinked away from him and looked at the road ahead.

  “How are you feeling?” I changed the subject. I loved him too much to have him carry the burden of my truths.

  “Good. Tired, but good. I’m hoping with the tests and treatments they want to do to me here I can put this all behind me once and for all. How’s the Miles?”

  “Good.” I smiled, thinking about my little blue-eyed boy and his soothing scent. “So good.”

  “I can’t wait to see him.” His smile was so similar to his brother’s that it broke my heart a little. He’d only seen the baby on the phone so he hadn’t gotten the full effect of Miles’s cuteness.

  “He’s going to love you.”

  “You think?”

  “I know so. You’ll be his second favorite uncle.” I pursed my lips. “Maybe his first. Freddie doesn’t call or FaceTime nearly as often as you do.”

  He laughed. “Well, I’m glad I’m in the running for the top spot.”

  “Are you nervous about the treatments?”

  I hated asking him the question because I knew it was probably the one thing everyone asked him non-stop, but it was impossible to ignore. Not with his buzz cut or the scar he was sporting, evidence of what he’d gone through to get rid of the tumor.

  “I’m hopeful,” he said. “They say I’m out of the woods. I just want to make sure I stay that way.”

  I smiled. “I like that.”

  “Perks of catching things early and being proactive.”

  “I’m so glad you did.”

  “Me too.”

  I swallowed. “How’s your family?”

  �
��Good. Dad’s happy. Mom’s working on it. Ro’s working hard.”

  Even hearing his nickname made my chest ache. It wasn’t that I hadn’t moved past our breakup, because I had. It was that every single day with Miles was a reminder of what I was keeping from him, of what he should be part of but I couldn’t allow. I also didn’t have it in me to complain about the fact that Rowan always seemed to be doing well while I was constantly teetering on the edge of a complete breakdown.

  It would be a cold, cold day in hell when I complained to a man who’d just been through brain surgery, though. Absolutely not. It didn’t matter that, some days, motherhood was overwhelming because it had no set hours. It didn’t matter how frustrated I got or the number of trips I’d had to pass up on because of it, because when I held Miles in my arms nothing else seemed to matter.

  “I wouldn’t tell you something that would hurt your feelings,” he said, seemingly reading the hurt expression on my face.

  “The mere acknowledgment of him hurts.”

  He pressed his lips together. We arrived at my apartment building and parked along the street. Celia and Grandma Joan moved to Paris while I was still pregnant, and we’d upgraded from a one bedroom to a three bedroom. It wasn’t a huge place, but it was cozy and the view was to die for.