The Christmas Secret

by Kristen Kelly

  ZAC MANAGED TO GET all the details of the trip to Jamaica from Charlotte over a text without her knowing it was for me. I vowed to get to know closet girl much, much better in the future.

  I felt like such a fool, because I was pretty sure that Charlotte was indeed at our wedding. How was it that when Abby and I were together, I hadn’t taken the time to know her closest friends? Maybe I was a bit egotistical, wrapped up in my own world of business mergers, stocks, bonds, and whatever I needed to keep on top of at Remington Enterprises. Maybe I needed to pay more attention...to everything...and everyone...that mattered.

  I’d taken the next flight out, which happened to be two days later than I wanted. I also had to take the last seat on the plane. It was filled with some hotshot’s fiftieth wedding party combined with a business conference for Partylite Gifts. Between the partygoers and women who seemed to have more energy than the sun, I’d never seen so many upbeat people on a plane in my life.

  The drinks kept coming. The guy next to me seemed pretty buzzed. So was I.

  “Wedding or candles?” the man said, leaning over. His hair was pulled back in a long ponytail and he was wearing a tie-dye shirt.

  “Huh?”

  “Wedding or candles,” he repeated. “That’s what they’re selling by the way. Candles.”

  “Oh. Oh yeah. I’ve heard of that company. Judging by their stocks, they do pretty good.”

  “So which is it?” asked tie-dye man.

  “Oh. Neither. Just taking a little R and R.”

  His cheeks were bright red, and I had the feeling he could pass out at any moment. “I’m here for the wedding, myself.” He let out a belch and I hung back from the sour stench.

  “Sorry.”

  For a minute, I wished I were one of the wedding guests. This had to be better, than hearing Abby reject me all over again. What was wrong with me? She’d already divorced me once. Was I that much of a glutton for punishment? Apparently so.

  I’d hoped the four Jack Daniels in my gullet would put me in a better mood, but so far, it hadn’t.

  Tie-die man leaned toward me, reeking of alcohol. “That’s my gramps over there and the little bimbo he has knocked up.”

  I tried not to laugh, because the guy he was referring to had to be at least ninety years old. The girl? Maybe twenty-five, with curly brown hair and eyelashes three inches long.

  “I thought this was a fiftieth wedding anniversary.”

  “It is. The anniversary of Gramp’s company’s and a wedding all in one.”

  I chuckled. “So mixing business and pleasure I see.”

  “Gramps likes to do everything up in style. This is his fourth kid.”

  “Not his first wedding then.”

  “Sure is. I guess he figured it was time to put a ring on it.”

  “Four kids?” I squinted, trying to assess if I’d been wrong about the girl’s or I should say woman’s age. She had so much makeup on, I couldn’t tell. Of course, what did I know about women? “How old is the bride?”

  “Thirty something. Not sure exactly. This makes her my Gramma and I’m only twenty-six.” For some reason he found that uproariously funny. Then, apologizing, he excused himself, and ran to the toilet.

  I was not amused. It was going to take a hell of a lot more alcohol, or perhaps a lobotomy to pull me out of the pits that I’d dug myself into.

  An announcement lit above my head, telling us we could safely unhook our seatbelts, reminding me of one of the few trips I took with Abby to Bermuda before both of our lives derailed. Mine had gone off track by being so wrapped up in work, I hadn’t seen her slipping away—and hers, well who knows when she stopped loving me.

  Did she love me now? I was about to find out.

  Tie-die man returned, squeezing his thick legs past mine and smelling of bourbon, while a pretty flight attendant with blonde hair and glasses took out a pamphlet and held it up.

  “Good morning ladies and gentlemen and welcome to Daniel Boone Airlines,” said a male voice which I assumed was the pilot.

  I looked at tie-die man and he looked at me, smirking.

  “There is no smoking on the plane. Unless you are like me and smoking hot.”

  That got a few giggles from certain female passengers and one of the ladies shot up from her seat only to be pulled back into it by the woman beside her. It didn’t take much to get these people going. Given all the alcohol on board.

  “In the event this flight becomes a cruise, all you lucky people get your very own itsy bitsy teeny weenie minus the polka dots bikini.”

  The flight attendant held up a yellow, inflatable life vest. She put it over her head in demonstration. Her smile was infectious and I slumped back in my seat, relaxing.

  “Once you’re outside the aircraft, pull down sharply on the red tab to inflate the vest. For those of you who can’t put slot A into slot B, blow into that tube near your left shoulder and it will inflate.”

  The flight attendant demonstrated, blowing into the tube.

  “And don’t worry if you can’t find the hole, men. Your beautiful bikini comes with a water activated light, although if you’re under water I think your shot in the dark has definitely passed.”

  Now tie-die man was roaring, slapping me on the back and spurting bourbon all over my trousers. To tell you the truth, I laughed pretty hard too.

  “And if by chance yours doesn’t inflate, grab your neighbor and hold on for dear life.”

  The Flight attendant held up the brochure, unfolding it. Then she held up a portable oxygen mask, flexing the straps and pulling on the rubber tubing.

  “If we are losing cabin pressure, four oxygen masks will drop from the compartment over your head. Ignore those and grab your nearest flight attendant to get some air.”

  The grandpa that was getting hitched looked like he was going to have a heart attack—his face had gone redder than a tomato.

  “Just kidding. I’m so lonely.”

  More laughter.

  “Once you’ve stopped screaming, place the mask over your head and mouth and...”

  Everyone on the plane was laughing so hard I couldn’t hear the rest of the instructions. Myself? I was doubled over, almost peed in my pants. Actually, I think I did.

  About an hour later, the women from the conference started singing Love Will Find A Way at the top of their lungs.

  By now I was thoroughly soused and feeling no pain. I glanced over at Grandpa passed out on his young bride’s shoulder, drool hanging from his lip.

  I had an epiphany. If someone like him could convince someone like her to tie the knot, I certainly could win my wife back.

  It would be a piece of cake.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Abby

  Even though they billed the resort for lovers, Sandals was the perfect tropical getaway to forget about Chase, because it was all-inclusive. I didn’t want to think about anything. Not where or what to eat, not what I should wear—I planned on living in my bikini—or even how much to tip. I told myself this trip was for Charlotte. I wanted her to live a little, but it was just as much for me. I hadn’t been anywhere luxurious in four years, not since Chase took me to Bermuda. A thread of anger welled up inside me, but I pushed it down. Chase had been plenty of places with her. All of them business trips. Not that I was jealous. Well, I was, but for entirely different reasons than most people thought. Soaking in the tranquility tub on our private balcony melted any tension I had left.

  An hour later, we went to the beach. I was getting into the zone, enjoying the glorious sunshine, and forgetting all about my sneaky ex-husband.

  “You do know this place is for lovers, don’t you?” Charlotte was lying on her stomach, getting rather red by the minute. She shaded her eyes from the sun when she looked back over her shoulder at me. “Not that I’m complaining. I absolutely love it here. I just thought...”

  “That it would remind me of Chase?” I said, while slathering tanning oil up and down my legs. “He is the last pe
rson I am thinking about until you brought his name up.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Besides, I’m too relaxed to worry about him.”

  Keep telling yourself that and it just might come true.

  Charlotte shrugged and put her head down. “If you say so.”

  “It’s true,” I insisted. I stared after a couple about fifty feet away. The woman had her legs draped over the man’s in a hammock stretched between two palm trees on the edge of the crystal blue shoreline. Every so often, one of them leaned over and kissed the other.

  I was glad Charlotte was a few feet away from me—she was determined to get a tan—while I preferred to protect my tender skin under the safety of a cabana. I didn’t want her to see my eyes tearing up. Damn, I needed to snap out of this. I didn’t want to upset Charlotte. I wanted her to enjoy the best vacation of her life, not worry over me, but everywhere I looked, love was in the air.

  “You want to get massages later?” Charlotte asked.

  “I guess,” I said, and then realizing how pathetic I sounded, added, “Yeah, that would be fun,” a little too enthusiastically.

  Charlotte frowned. “You miss him, don’t you? After everything he did, you still miss him?”

  “What? No! Are you kidding? He’s manipulative, overbearing, and, and...He’s nothing but a big fat liar, and I’d appreciate it if you don’t ever bring his name up again.”

  Her brows rose.

  “I divorced his ass. Remember? That means we’re done. We’re done, Charlotte. We’re done!”

  “Why does it sound like you’re trying to convince yourself, not me?”

  I blew out a breath. “Whatever. Can you please just drop it? I’m going inside to make a phone call and if you don’t want to turn into a lobster, you’ll be right behind me before too long.” I grabbed the mai tai I was drinking, the bag with my towel and flip-flops in it, and started across the sand.

  As I walked along the white Caribbean beach, I soaked in my surroundings.

  It was so warm.

  Tranquil.

  The perfect place to think.

  This really was paradise. Billed as the destination dreams were made from, with five star dining, tropical gardens, premium accommodations, and our own private pool. Some rooms even came with a real, English butler. Charlotte thought that was a great idea, but I thought it a bit much. We did not need a butler. What were we the Kardashians?

  After I entered the lobby to the hotel, I peered into the banquet room. Some sort of celebration would take place here. People were rushing all around me. I saw tables being set up, bouquets of flowers being carried in, elaborate shimmering silk cloth hung from the ceiling and pillars were twined with lights. It was absolutely dazzling.

  “Excuse me.” I snatched the sleeve of a bald-headed gentleman in a white uniform as he tried to whisk by me. “What’s all this?”

  Instead of answering my question, he jutted his chin toward a nearby poster on an easel that read: Congratulations on the Wedding of Mr. and Mrs. Mason Brown. Everyone is welcome.

  “Not the CEO of Motorola Solutions?” I asked, surprised.

  “The one and only, lady.” He wrestled his arm free and yelled, “Hey! Hey, you. Careful with that ice sculpture. Your job is on the line, kid.”

  I managed to move on without knocking anyone over, and slipped inside the elevator just as the doors were about to close. I gave an old lady beside me a half smile when my phone pinged inside my purse. I glanced down, frowned, and then shut off the ringer trying to keep my bad mood to myself. The lady gave me a knowing smile. She had white hair and entirely too much makeup.

  “On your honeymoon, sweetie?”

  “Um, no.”

  “Awe, too bad, well maybe you’ll meet someone here although on second though... Anyway, you’ll have a good time regardless.”

  “Maybe.” I took a step away from her, hoping she got the hint I wasn’t feeling chatty.

  She didn’t.

  “I see they’re getting ready for that rich guy’s wedding downstairs.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Maybe it will be yours some day.”

  “Maybe.”

  When the doors slid open on the fifteen floor, I couldn’t get off the elevator or away from that nosy woman fast enough.

  I took a deep breath and leaned against the wall, trying to slow the tears that threatened to fall.

  No matter how much I denied it, Chase was everywhere. Seemed everything and anything reminded me of him.

  Those wedding flowers? I swear they were the same shade of blue as forget-me-knots.

  The ice sculpture? Carved like a swan. Just like the ones in Chase’s pool the night of my birthday party.

  Chase had made an effort to be sweet to me that night, and the whole mystery man thing—definitely romantic, but was that enough to base a relationship? We’d already gone the route of the happily ever after and failed miserably.

  Girl, get a grip. You’re here to move on, not to get snared again in that web called Chase Remington.

  When I got in my hotel room, I fell into the huge, four-poster bed.

  I looked up, noting how miserable my face appeared. “I have to be strong,” I told myself. “I’m a strong woman. The strongest as a matter of fact. I had the balls to divorce the most sought after man in the business world. I can do this. I will do this. And I swear if it kills me I’m going to have the best fucking time any divorcee ever had in her life. Just as soon as I figure out how to hate the man.”

  I took out my phone and called my mom.

  She answered in two rings. “Oh thank goodness it’s you. Abby, where are you?”

  “I’m...I’m in Jamaica. Why do you sound worried?” Mom and I did not talk often. I usually had nothing to say and she was always telling me how to live my life.

  “Chase called me, dear. He was very worried when you didn’t show up to work all week.”

  Figures. Damn, control freak.

  “He shouldn’t be worrying you like that. Besides, I’m fine.”

  “Are you?”

  “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Not like you to blow off work, sweetheart. Not like you at all. Jamaica, huh?”

  “Blow off work. Is that what he told you? Anyway, I took a leave of absence.”

  “Of course, honey. I’m sure Chase knew that but he seemed terribly worried on the phone.”

  “Did he now? Well, since when do you care about how Chase feels?”

  “Oh honey, I may have not been all that supportive when the two of you married, but it was your decision and to tell you the truth, for a man to be that concerned when his wife leaves...”

  “Ex.”

  “What?”

  “I’m his ex-wife, Mom.”

  “Whatever honey. Anyway, I’m just glad you’re all right. Having a good time I assume?”

  “I am.”

  “That’s all I want for you, baby. Just be happy, okay?”

  I was so taken off guard by Mom’s sentimental speech, I didn’t know what to say for several minutes. Confused too. I was sure she would tell me to toughen up and that I’d finally made the right decision concerning him because she never liked Chase anyway. So what was with the concerned mother-in-law routine? I didn’t get it. So much for tough love.

  “So what did you call me for, sweetie?”

  “Just to hear your voice,” I said.

  “Ah.”

  The rest of the conversation revolved around telling me about her reading group, the awful weather in Nebraska this time of year, and how my father was attending a sleep clinic for his snoring. When I’d finally decided to end the call, I felt drained. Whether that was from boredom or not sleeping, I couldn’t be certain.

  I turned on the radio and screamed when I heard yet another stupid love song. Turned on the TV and it just happened to be tuned into a porno station. Groaning, I shut everything off, crawled under a blanket, and fell asleep in a chair.

  Still wearing my bikini
.

  Chapter Twenty

  Chase

  I was standing in the lobby, watching them prepare for that rich guy’s wedding, feeling hopeless and dejected. I would have liked to give Abby the wedding of her dreams, but she was pregnant at the time, so we’d eloped to Vegas. Not her choice to be honest, but it was better than being as big as a house at her wedding—her words not mine—or not being married at all when the baby came. Turned out, she had a miscarriage two weeks after the wedding, which naturally threw her into depression. Like an idiot, I hadn’t known how vulnerable she was at the time. I couldn’t handle it, so I did what I always did, I dove off the deep end into work. Little by little, that was when things began to slip between us.

  I took a deep breath looking past the multi-colored walls, the caged birds in the lobby, the tiled floor littered with sand. What the hell was I doing here when there was work to be done?

  Fighting for your wife, you idiot.

  I needed this second chance with her, but I had no idea what to do. Not yet anyway. Besides, how would I find her? The resort was huge, with twenty-five floors, a hundred and fifty bungalows. Not to mention that if I did find her room, it didn’t mean she would be there. What I needed was some sort of sign to fall into my lap.

  That’s when someone tapped me on the shoulder.

  “Hey!” said tie-die man. “Fancy meeting you here. You know I don’t think we were ever introduced.” He held out his hand, the fingers like sausage links. “I’m Daniel. Daniel Brown.”

  “Not the...”

  “Afraid so.. Heir to the Motorola fortune some day, or at least that’s what they tell me.”

  “So your grand father is...”

  “Mason Brown. Yup. He be the one.”

  I shook his hand. “Chase Remington of Remington Enterprises.”

  “No kidding? Cool, cool. Gramps will be impressed. That is, if he ever gets out of the infirmary.”

  “Infirmary?”

  “Heart attack. And right in the middle of...”

  “No!” I gasped.

  “Yup. Too much for that ancient. My guess is she’s trying to displace those rumors about being after his money. She won’t get a dime if they aren’t married ya know.”