Chapter 28
STERLING
Every artist struggles to find their inspiration. Seriously, ask anyone and they’ll confirm that there’s a time in our lives where we seem to have a block. Creativity comes with lots of flaws while we try to find perfection.
In fact, we artists are flaws searching for the best part of us. I had that happen to me during my late twenties when I was living in France. Nothing seemed to work. Every piece I tried to create ended up in the trash.
It’s funny how things work because my landlord at the time picked up every piece of trash and sold it as an Ahern original. He made a lot of money and retired. That wise man taught me to enjoy what I had instead of looking for what I didn’t.
It’s crazy how our nature as humans is to search for what we call happiness. Which is an abstract term. What makes one happy doesn’t make the other happy. A great example is the holidays. There’re so many people who are miserable during this season because they don’t have what others do.
It’d be so different if we search for the real meaning of the season.
If we found the magic of what’s important again.
Money isn’t everything. Look at my parents, they were loaded.
My father worked himself to the ground. He actually died of a heart attack while at work.
He promised the world to Mom and never delivered.
Once Dad died, she tried to give herself what he didn’t. Unfortunately, her life was cut short too. They worked hard to find happiness and I don’t think they ever found it.
This is where my problem lies.
I’ve been living a fulfilled life. Everything I do brings me joy. I’m content. Happiness isn’t something on my radar. My legacy is my art. Five hundred years from now, I hope people recognize me as they do Auguste Rodin, Praxiteles, Donatello, Giacometti, and so many others.
It’s a big reach, but I want to be that famous. I am in fact as famous as them, but not sure if my fame will continue after I die or if it’ll die with me.
At least, that was my goal up until a couple of weeks ago.
As we leave the house in Steamboat behind, I don’t give two shits about my legacy. My worry and the root of my block lies next to me, in the passenger seat.
June fell asleep a few minutes after I pulled out of the driveway. She’s tired since we spent most of the morning skiing. I’m glad she’s asleep because I can’t deal with questions about my childhood and I don’t want to learn more about her.
Not when I’m afraid this might be it.
All night long, I kept thinking about how I’m going to convince her to stay with me at the penthouse.
Let’s send her parents to the house. I don’t want anyone near what I’m trying to build for us.
I can’t find the words or a good excuse.
It shouldn’t be a problem, except, I can’t explain why I don’t want this to end.
I have sixteen days left with June. Two without her family hovering around her.
The babies give me the perfect excuse to be close to her, but not with her.
If I can’t pull this miracle off, what’s left?
Phone calls every other day to make sure she’s okay.
Video calls to see the babies at least for eighteen years, I’ll have many excuses to go and see her wherever she lives.
I want fucking more. Birthdays, first Christmases, first steps, first words, and more than two babies. But can I?
Well, so much for expiration dates and never getting involved in my life.
My phone rings, I look at the dashboard. It’s Abby. I click ignore so she doesn’t wake up June, but it rings again, and this time June hears it. She stretches and yawns. Her eyes find me, and I glance quickly just to wink at her.
“You should answer,” she suggests.
“It’s Abby,” I say as if it explains it but the phone rings again and this time, June reaches for the dashboard and answers.
“Slugger, why are you ignoring me?”
“Oh, fuck, you didn’t just call me that, Abigail,” I protest.
June chuckles.
“What do you need?”
“We’re in town,” she offers. “Come over and have dinner with us.”
“I’m in Steamboat,” I excuse myself.
“We should be back in four hours,” June corrects me. “We can be there at six even if there’s traffic.”
Abby clears her throat. “Interesting, you have company?”
“Oh, no,” June says. “I’m just a friend.”
“Look, Abs, we’re not sure about the traffic and June might not be up to visiting anyone tonight. We had a long week and spent the past couple of days with her family. Mind if we visit you tomorrow?”
Abby stays quiet for a few breaths then she says, “Call me tomorrow to see what works best for you two. I am looking forward to meeting you, June.”
I finish the call before either one can say more. Any other day I could’ve used an excuse to get out of seeing Abby, but I think this is just perfect. An excuse to hang out in the same house for at least another day.
When we arrive in the city June says, “I hate wintertime. It’s not even five and the sun is down for the day. Can we see the house tomorrow?”
I nod, take her hand, and kiss it. “Do you want the guys to pick up takeout or should we try to cook?”
“What are you in the mood for?”
“Only hungry for you, baby. You’ll have to be in charge of dinner.”
She grabs my phone and starts tapping it. “Done, we’re having Mexican food from a place Em loves. They should be delivering it when we arrive.”
“You didn’t ask Beck?”
“Nope, you’re not the only person with people,” she says, winking at me. “Now drive because after we’re done eating, I want dessert.”
My dick gets hard. It better be me. Swollen cock, tight balls. The pressure is killing me.
Fuck, will I ever be able to touch her again?
“What is that?” I ask, hopeful. Maybe it’s her pussy and I can eat it for an appetizer.
“Just ordered flan and churros,” she says. “I’m eating for three, after all.”
“Sounds delicious,” I tell her, happy that she’s coming to the penthouse with me.
How do I convince her to stay with me forever?
“You had a girl in your car yesterday,” Abby says as she enters my studio.
“Give me my keys back,” I order.
She wiggles them and shakes her head and starts roaming through the studio looking at my work. Then, stops at the table and scrunches her nose. “Please tell me I’m not looking at your girlfriend, naked.”
“Stay away from my studio,” I grunt.
“She’s pretty.” Abby ignores me. “I didn’t have to see her tattoo.”
“Actually, she doesn’t have a tattoo. It’s on her list and—” I stop myself. “Never mind. What do you need?”
“How long have we known each other?”
“Decades, what do you want?” I ask annoyed because fuck her and her need to know everything that’s happening in my life and fix what’s not broken.
She paces a couple of times and then stops in front of me.
“You let me talk to her and we’re having dinner tonight.”
I shake my head. “No, I haven’t agreed to that.”
“June did.”
“How?” I ask and cross my arms.
“Beck gave me her phone number.” She grins knowing she has the upper hand. “Two weeks, huh.”
My bodyguard is a dead man and June better have a good reason to be talking to Abigail. Being polite doesn’t count.
“Get it over with, Abby. Circling around shit isn’t your style. What do you need me to tell you so you can be on your way?”
“She sounds smart. Nothing like the girls you’ve been with,” she explains. “Not that I ever got to talk to them. Still. This one is different. I can feel it. So, I want to know how I can help because I don’t want you to—”
“Fuck it up?” I ask and try not to glare at her. “Not to worry about it, it’s nothing serious. You know me, Abs. I’m a loner.”
She shakes her head. “Seriously, who fucked you up?”
Abby has been asking that question for years. She swears I’m a catch but since someone broke me, I just can’t see more than a quick fuck and the next rush of adrenaline.
“So, we’re going to your house tonight?” I change the subject.
“No, actually June invited us to the house.”
Her words feel like a slap in the face because, fuck, she moved out without even telling me. I knew she was going to leave because neither one of us has an excuse to stay together but still.
It stings.
“Abby, leave,” I say.
“Sterling,” she sighs. I ignore her.
Instead of working with clay, I go to the changing room and get ready to work with metal. I can’t deal with anything else. I have to destroy.
Abigail remains standing in the same place. Her face saddened as usual. She’s pitying me.
“I won’t see you tonight, will I?” she says.
“Goodbye, Abs.”
I storm to my workshop in the next room, slamming the door shut.
I swallow the anger and put the hammer down as my arms shake of exhaustion. I close my eyes trying to get ahold of my emotions. I’ve been doing this for hours and the tightening feeling continues clogging my throat. My anger comes like an impossible build up of steam, burning on the way out.
Why did Abby’s visit leave me this angry?
Because June left the penthouse. That’s it. That’s my breaking point.
She left me.
When I open my eyes, I realize it’s not anger. It’s sadness. It’s a hollowness that holds shards of glass between my soul and body. That’s pain. Pain of losing June.
Fuck, have I made a mistake?
When it comes to my future, I always thought I was in charge and I had everything figured out. It’s not. Thinking I had everything I needed was the biggest lie of all. Until now, I was empty. It’s fucking scary when you realize there’s something missing in your life.
I finally recognize that my life is a sham.
Art is my trade but not what completes me.
I’m lonely. I don’t live in the moment. I hide behind my creations.
There’s an empty space in my heart. And what a fucking twist of fate when I realize that the only thing I need to fulfill my life is my family—the one June and I are creating.