"More work?" I asked with a smile.
He climbed onto the bed and pulled me to him. "No more work. Just pleasure."
"Mmmm, I like that," I cooed as he kissed my neck, his tongue gliding gently over my skin and sending shivers over my body as we began to make love.
We laid there in each other's arms, and I looked up at him to see him staring vacantly off in the distance. "Hey, you look like you're a million miles away."
"Not that far. You're there too," he said quietly, but his eyes still looked so far away from our bed.
Running my finger over his tattoo, I traced the intricate design across his chest and over his shoulder, feeling a raised scar just above his heart. I'd never seen it before, but now it was as obvious as the tattoo.
"What's this from, Tristan?"
He looked down at where my finger touched and frowned. "That's where a piece of metal went through me."
"That close to your heart? What happened?" I asked, horrified at the thought that anything had come so close to killing him.
"I was in a plane crash with my brother and parents. I was impaled by a metal rod which pinned me to the seat. The doctors said it missed my heart and everything else by millimeters."
His voice was full of sadness, and I squeezed him tightly to me. I was afraid to hear any more, but he continued. "I sat in that seat, unable to move, as my family died around me. My twin brother was sitting behind me and was stabbed by the metal rod, but it hit him right in the heart."
"Oh, Tristan. I'm so sorry."
My words felt so inadequate, but he wasn't listening to them. He continued to talk, his voice low and sad. "My mother died instantly, thank God, but I watched as my father lingered in agony, crying out for someone to help us. I couldn't speak, couldn't let him know that I was still there right behind him so he wasn't alone. I don't know how long he lived, but by the time the crews arrived, he was gone too. I didn't know about Taylor until they finally got me out and days later told me the metal rod that had somehow missed my heart had found his."
"When was this?" I asked, thinking about that portrait of a happy family sitting in a dark trunk in the attic.
"It will be four years this December. That's how I ended up as the CEO of Stone Worldwide. I never wanted to be that. That was Taylor's dream. He wanted to take over when my father retired. He'd groomed him since high school. Remember when I told you I attended Wharton? So did my brother, except he graduated. He'd just finished his MBA when the accident happened."
His story broke my heart. I understood all too well what it felt like to lose someone you loved. My mother had died when I was just a little girl, and my father had been murdered just around the time Tristan's family had died. To watch them in agony and not be able to do anything to save them was more than I'd be able to stand.
Tears filled my eyes at the thought of him sitting there, helpless to save the people he loved, injured, and not knowing if he too was going to die. Gently stroking his cheek, I kissed him, wanting to take away the pain he held inside. "I had no idea, Tristan. I'm sorry."
He shrugged and pressed a smile onto his lips. "So I'm all alone, I guess."
I cradled his face in my hands, looking into his sad eyes. "You're never alone. I'm here, and the ones we love never really leave us. As long as they stay in our hearts, they're with us."
His smile softened. "That sounds like something my mother would say. My father and brother would never think that way."
"Are you more like your mother?" I asked, curious about the beautiful woman with the hint of sadness in her face I'd seen in that portrait.
He closed his eyes. "I don't know. I never felt like I was like my father or brother, so if I was like anyone it was my mother."
"I never really got to know my mother. She died when I was five, and from then on, it was just my father, my sister, and me."
Tristan's opened his eyes and turned to me, pushing my hair off my face to kiss my cheek. "I'm sorry about your mother. I guess I was lucky to have twenty-five years with mine."
"I lost my father right around the time you lost yours. Someone gunned him down one night while he was working on his latest exposé of some industrial problem or something. I don't remember. All I know is that one night he was gone, and I felt like I was alone. But then I remembered that he told me when my mother died that the people we love never leave us as long as we keep loving them. It's hard, but I think he was right. It's four years next month, but he's still with me."