Life happens when you’re busy making other plans, a quote I know all too well. I planned everything for Harper. She was mine to look out for. A kid sister, whom I adored and ultimately failed.

I can sit here for hours, hell, maybe weeks, months, a lifetime even, and think about all the ways I failed her. All the what ifs.

All the unanswered questions of a life gone wrong. Why did she do it?

Was I the reason?

Did I drive her to slice her wrists open?

Fifteen is when she went from the sweet, funny kid sister who confided everything in me to a closed off teenager. Her first depression. I didn't know how to help her. It's the first time I felt helpless. The image of her body, floating in the crimson water haunts me. Eyes open. The blood. So much blood. Everywhere.

My baby sister was dead. And there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. All I could think about was did it hurt? I didn't want it to hurt. Did she try to stop it?

I cursed God first. Then I cursed her. Last, I cursed me.

It was my fault.

My sister, who loved daisies on a summer day, who drank orange juice with almost every meal, felt her only option was to take her own life. Her place in the world is empty now. And I feel it, every fucking day.

I wish I would have sensed her despair. Knew she was hurting as badly as she was. I wish I could have shown her life does go on.

Things do get better.

Look at Houston. He’s moving on. Living his life after tragedy struck.

Hell, even me. I found love—a love I never thought I could.

Yet, I’m in it. And I want to stay in it. Stay tethered to the one person who makes me whole again.

She makes my pain bearable.

I return to New York from Chicago, late. I’m exhausted. My body aches.

Returning to the Plaza only brings back memories of the way her eyes met mine with such distaste and hatred right before the elevator doors closed.

That was the last time I saw her.

I crash into bed, having the worst fucking night’s sleep ever. Dreams of Harper dripping scarlet splashes from her wrists onto a canvas. Dreams of Katy smiling and painting, reassuring me it wasn't my fault.

In the morning, I know what I need to do.

Win her trust back.

She really is the one.

* * *

I call her. She doesn’t answer. I email her and get the same response—nothing. I don’t really expect her to want to see me. Maybe a small part of me does.

Not willing to give up, I text her to meet me at the gallery and pray she agrees.

I wait for hours.

But, she never comes.

Right before I pack up to leave, I catch a glimpse of her standing in front of the frosted glass window. I rush to open the door.

My breath hitches when she enters. “Hi.”

She dips her head, unable to meet my eyes, and it stings a little. “Hi,” she whispers.

It's awkward. Her eyes dart to me and then she moves around the gallery, slowly, taking in the renovations. It wasn't easy, and lots of palms were greased, but in less than a week the shell of a warehouse is now a full gallery, complete with her paintings.

“I hope you don’t mind me doing this,” I say, watching her take in all of her art work hanging on the walls. Every single piece.

“It’s amazing.” Her eyes gleam with unshed tears, and I want more than anything to hold her.

“It’s all for you. Even if you never do anything with it, I just wanted you to have it.” I dangle the keys out to her, and she takes a second to accept them.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“You don't have to say anything.”

Her eyes avoid mine. “Houston said I should hear you out.”

“Houston’s a smart man.”

“What do you really do? Why did you come to New York?” she asks with sad eyes.

I take a deep breath. “I’m a corporate raider.”

She cuts in, “So, you wanted to buy out Masters? Is that why you were at the charity event the night we met? Is that why you couldn’t give me a real name?”

I shake my head. “Yes, I gave a fake name, because I knew your board would know who I was. But, I never planned on buying Masters. That wasn’t my goal.”

“What was your goal? I’m so stupid. To believe you would be my fake fiancé for nothing.”

“No, I’m sorry. Yes, even in my own mind I treated it like a company I was buying, but that’s not the whole story.”

“So, what’s the whole story?” She crosses her arms.

I tell her everything. I open up my heart to her, retelling her the story I told Houston.

She cries when I mention her nephew, and we cry together over the tragedy of it all.

“I miss her,” I say. “I didn't know who you were. I never meant to hurt you. You have to believe that.”

And then, Katy does something unexpected—she pulls me into her arms, clinging onto me as tight as she can. She cries into my shirt, and I grab onto her for dear life.

“It was an awful thing to have happen. I’m sorry for everyone,” she cries.

I pull back, staring into her tear-stained eyes. “You have no need to be sorry. So much of what happened was my fault. I should have never confronted her.” I shake my head.

She cups my face in her tiny hands. “You can’t blame yourself. It sounds like your sister needed help and was good at hiding it.”

“She did. But as her big brother I should have seen it.”

“Where were your parents?”

I sit down in a nearby chair, and Katy takes a seat next to me. “I felt like I raised her. Our parents were always gone. Europe one week. South Caribbean the next. We had staff to look after us, but I was the only one there for her.”

“I’m sure she was a great girl.”

“She was.” Memories flood my mind. “She feared the dark for a long time, and I would sing her to sleep when she was little,” I say.

She smiles. “I didn’t know you could sing.”

I run a hand through my hair. “I can’t.”

“What happened with the boyfriend?”

I meet her eyes. “Craig Kendall was the boyfriend.”

She pales. “What? So, that’s why you were at the charity event? That’s why you agreed to be my fiancé?”

“Yeah.” I rub a hand along my neck, easing the tension.

“What happened?”

“She was twenty when she met him. I didn't like it. Obviously, I checked him out. She started pulling away, wasn’t going to her classes. That morning was the first time he hurt her. He was already engaged to Gabi and told my sister it was over. He beat the crap out of her.”

“What did you do?”

“Well, there wasn’t much I could do. After the accident, I went to jail. Had to get bailed out, and once all the wheels started turning on the charges, I was so busy trying to protect her that I lost sight of her.”

“When did she do it?”

“Commit suicide? Not long after. I can’t get the image out of my head.” Stupid tears sting my eyes as I try not to cry, as I try not to envision her body floating in the water.

“Did she leave a note?”

“Yeah, it was all bullshit about how she couldn’t live with the guilt of what she’d done. How she hadn’t been happy in a while. I could have helped her.”

“You had no way of knowing. You can’t think about it like that. Had you known you would have done everything you could.”

I cry. “Everything. I would gladly give my life for her.”

“I know you would.” She wraps her arms around me. “You’re not a bad guy. Why didn't you tell me?”

“I lost sight of what was important. I wanted revenge so badly, I didn't want to fuck anything up when it was so close. I really did plan on telling you.” I look up at her. “I shouldn’t have lied to you about my name. I agreed to be your fiancé to keep tabs on him, waiting for the perfect moment to fuck up his world. He set everything in motion when he put his fist in her face. When he married, and took over Masters, I knew it was time to expose him.”

“How?”

“Well, I had a plan…”