Page 107 of The Paradise Problem

I MAY NOT SEE her again, but she’ll still be everywhere I look; while I was away, her three paintings were delivered to my house. I avoid unpacking clothes that likely smell of Anna by meticulously hanging her paintings instead. Freesia 2 goes on a wall in my living room, a blast of cardinal, coral, and a yellow so electric it seems to vibrate. Dahlia 4 goes on the wall in my study: concentric rings of soothing puffs of pinkish-white petals with a shock of pink in the center set against a delicate green backdrop; individual petals look nearly conical, their tender centers hiding a thousand shadows that reveal the true magic of the painting. And Three Zinnias goes in my bedroom, on the wall opposite my bed. When I first see it, it takes my breath away—a meticulous close-up of three overlapping flowers I assume are zinnias, one a brilliant green, one a shocking tangerine, and one a scarlet so vivid it seems three-dimensional. The energy, the colors, and the sequence of them reminds me so acutely of the dress Anna wore to the wedding that for a few minutes I can only stare at the painting, barely able to breathe. The paintings I’d assumed were her hobby in college were good, but now I see those were simple tunes, “Chopsticks” played on the piano with novice fingers. These pieces are her symphony, the result of natural talent and years of honing her craft.

Truthfully, all three are amazing. I wish I had seen them before buying them, only so she would have seen the honesty in my expression when I told her I loved them, that I believe in her talent.

I’m drained, but I can’t sleep. Haven’t eaten all day, but I’m not hungry. Collapsing on the couch, I stare at Freesia 2 until my eyes lose focus and I have no more mental defenses left. Thoughts pummel me.

I have to agree to my father’s demands. I’ll have to let go of my faculty position. I’ll have to let go of Anna. My brain makes these depressing rounds over and over.

My phone buzzes on the couch beside me and I pick it up, staring at Jake’s profile photo. For a few rings, I consider letting it go. I’m pretty sure Blaire and the kids left early, but the others have just left the island for Singapore, which means Jake is with Dad. Maybe—just maybe—something has happened to get me out of this.

“Jake.”

“Hey.”

The second I hear the frustration in his single syllable, I know nothing has changed.

I press the heel of my free hand to my eye. “What’s up.”

“Was just calling to check on you. You and Anna get back safely?”

“Yeah. She left for her place straight from LAX. I caught a flight to San Jose. Just got home.”

He pauses. “You guys leave things in a good place?”

“Not particularly.”

“Dad wants to destroy her.”

“She’s your friend,” I remind him with a trace of sarcasm. “I’m sure you’ve been defending her.”

He’s quiet on the other end. “You know I don’t fucking bother getting into it with him, Liam. I know it isn’t your way, but we all do what we have to do. Don’t start with me right now.”

“Yeah, well,” I say with a sigh, “it doesn’t matter anyway. I’ll give him what he wants.”

My brother falls quiet again for a few seconds. “What does that mean?”

“It means I’ll come on board.”

“Does he know that?”

“I haven’t officially confirmed it yet.” I frown down at my watch, trying to do the time zone math. “Where are you?”

“Singapore. In the lounge. He and Mom went to get a drink. I’m sure he’ll call soon.”

I close my eyes. Talk to Dad, make him a deal; my freedom for theirs. “Okay. I’ll be here.”

Jake blows out a breath. “Liam. I really don’t want you to have to do this.”

“I know.”

Jake swears quietly. “So just say no.”

“I can’t.”

“You can, though. You’ve said no to him a hundred times. What’s he gonna do? Yell?”

I send a hand into my hair. “If I say no, it fucks us all, Jake.”

The line goes quiet, and then he carefully asks, “What does that mean?”

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