Don't Leave Me (My Secret Boyfriend Book 3)

by S Doyle

  “Ash.” I didn’t know whether to laugh or shout at her again for hiding all of that from me. She’d been thinking about running away since Switzerland?

  “I bought a fake passport—a good one. I set up a Swiss bank account under my new name. Another one in the States. Hocked any jewelry Arthur gave me and replaced a number of valuable works of art in the house with fakes. By the time I knew I had to leave, I had a nest egg of about half a million dollars.”

  My jaw dropped. Half a million dollars?

  “You clever little thief.”

  She smiled mischievously. “I was pretty good at it. Even my engagement ring, hocked and replaced with a convincing fake. I took satisfaction in it every time I made another wire transfer into my secret account. I thought once you graduated Princeton, I would use it then. Set us up so we didn’t need Arthur’s help at all. I hadn’t accounted for Evan.”

  “Tell me about it. That night you left,” I said, realizing I’d never asked. Maybe because I didn’t want to relive, what for her had been an escape, but for me, had been a living nightmare.

  “I was scared. So scared because I had to rush through the last of the details in only a few days. My goal had been to rehearse it a few times, make sure there was no chance at failure. Then suddenly, I was out of time and I had to just do it. I drove the car out to a fairly untraveled road on the way to his house in the Hamptons. In the off season, it’s nearly empty. I parked the car, and ran it until the gas tank was empty. Someone actually pulled up behind me. An older gentleman who insisted on taking me to the nearest gas station. I had to be really convincing I’d already called for an Uber that was on its way.”

  “He never came forward. There weren’t any witnesses who could pinpoint the time you broke down.”

  “Maybe he didn’t put the pieces together that I was the missing woman. I don’t know. Once he left, I cut my thumb and smeared blood over the seats, the dashboard, the steering wheel. Anything to make it look like an assault, a struggle. I had a bike in the trunk. I rode it to the nearest convenience store, and dropped my credit cards near a homeless man sitting outside the door. Hoping he might use them.”

  “That was the guy on camera,” I said, seeing it clearly. “It immediately made him a suspect, but the police could never find him.”

  “That was a lucky break. I’d already purchased and registered a car with my new identity. It was waiting for me in a parking lot of a grocery store just down the road from the convenience store. I wiped down the bike for any traces of fingerprints, dumped it in the grocery store dumpster, and drove away.”

  “How did you know my mother was dead?”

  “When I got to Florida, I started searching for Marie Campbells, much like you probably did. I had this idea if you came looking for her, you might find me instead. But I thought I should know at least where she was. Eventually, I came across her death certificate.”

  Which told me if I’d kept trying to identify dead Marie Campbells I would have found the certificate too. Thank God I focused my search on those who were still alive. If I’d stumbled upon my mother first, I would have moved on, and I never would have found Ash. The precariousness of it left me feeling shaky.

  The sun had gone down, the night was dark, and I could hear cicadas in the distance.

  “You’d been planning your escape since Switzerland, and you never told me,” I said, trying to deal with how crushing it felt to be excluded from something so vital. I’d always thought Ash was mine. All mine. I had to deal with it though, if I wanted to do the thing I said earlier. If I wanted to push myself back into her life, I had to let it all go.

  “It wasn’t real in Switzerland. It was just a thought that if things ever did get serious, building a nest egg could help. That having an escape hatch would give me some piece of mind. It didn’t become real until I married Evan. By then, you were already in prison.”

  “We always said, no secrets.”

  “I couldn’t tell you Arthur hit me,” she said. “That he hired people to track me down when I dared to stray. It was hard enough to convince you Evan was a threat, when he didn’t look threatening at all. Would you have even agreed to marry me if you hadn’t seen the physical evidence of his abuse?”

  I let my head fall back on my shoulders and looked to the stars for that answer.

  “Yes,” I said, knowing it to be true. If for no other reason than I had this ingrained sense, that, even though I’d broken up with her, even though I was the one to end things between us despite her saying the words first, she would always be mine.

  “I wanted the plan to work,” she said. “Our marriage. I wanted so bad for it to make everything stop. I just had no idea how far they would go. Once I knew I was pregnant, it changed everything.”

  I set my beer bottle down on the porch, and stood. “It’s late. I should leave.”

  Which, we both knew, meant I needed time to process everything she’d told me.

  Ash didn’t look at me. Or couldn’t look at me. I wasn’t sure which.

  She’d set down her wine and pulled her feet up onto the seat, resting her chin against her knees. She looked like a kid when she did that, and I thought how presumptuous I’d been when we were kids. I’d thought I knew everything about her, and, in so many ways, I didn’t know her fiercest traits.

  Her resilience. Her backbone. Her brains. Her fearlessness.

  “I keep telling you, Marc,” she said. “There is no way to undo what I did. I made you believe I was dead. I didn’t tell you about your son. Neither of those things are forgivable.”

  “I think that’s for me to decide. You’re alive, Ash. We’re both free. It’s time we stopped thinking about who we were and what we did to each other. Instead, we can think about what we want to become.”

  With that, I trotted off the porch and made my way home. I got into bed and reached for my phone.

  Me: Just so I’m clear, you still owe me one kiss.

  I put the phone down on the table because I knew there would be no reply. What could she say?

  After all, a bet was a bet.

  12

  A few days later

  Marc

  My phone ringing woke me from a dream. In a state of semi-sleep, I answered it.

  “Hello?”

  “Marc, I’m so sorry, I know how early it is, but I’m in a bind and I thought maybe you could help.”

  I blinked. “Ash? That’s not possible. You’re dead.”

  Because she had been, in my dream. She was dead and gone and I was still in prison because they’d decided they were never going to let me out. I didn’t care. I’d been dreaming. Then my phone rang, and now Ashleigh was talking to me.

  “Marc! Wake up!”

  Suddenly, I was awake. Pulling the phone away from my ear, I could see it was just after five in the morning. I sat up and tried to rub the sleep from my eyes. These past few days, I’d been out of town doing some surveillance work. I’d texted Ash before I left so she wouldn’t think I’d bailed on her, and I’d texted her last night to let her know I was back in town.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled. “Bad dream. What’s wrong? Is it Danny?”

  “Sort of. Sandra just called to tell me she’s sick and can’t watch Danny. Normally, I would let Candy handle the morning, but I’ve got two big orders that have to be filled today, and she’s not going to be able to do it all.”

  I was still a little groggy. “Do you need me to bake something?”

  “No,” she said, clearly exacerbated with me. “I was hoping you could watch Danny. Just for a few hours while I fill the orders and get Candy set up.”

  “You mean on my own? Without you there?”

  “Never mind. I’ll just take him with me, and Candy can watch him—”

  “No,” I barked, over her words. “I can do it. I just wasn’t thinking. Give me a few minutes to put some clothes on and I’ll be right over.”

  I set the world record for teeth brushing and mild grooming before I was dresse
d and making my way down her street. She’d reached out to me. She wanted me to watch the kid on my own.

  Jesus, what if I did something wrong? What if he got hurt or sick on my watch? She’d never trust me again. What the hell did I know about watching a kid? I’d held him, like, two times. Read him a couple books. Put him in a highchair and fed him chicken nuggets and broccoli tots.

  This did not seem like enough experience to watch him full time.

  But, Ash had called me. Because she trusted me. So, this was important.

  I knocked on the door and she opened it with a crying baby in her arms. She was rocking him on her hip and attempting to push something in his mouth.

  “This is not going to work,” she said, as soon as I stepped inside. “He’s teething and being fussy about it.”

  “So? I can handle fussy.” I had no idea if I could handle fussy. But in that moment, I realized it didn’t matter what I thought I could or could not handle. Danny was my son. Mine. If I was going to be any kind of father to him, it meant I had to be there for him when he was being sweet and funny, as well as when he was hurting and letting everyone know it.

  I took him from her arms and settled him on my hip. He was still crying and rubbing his snotty nose on my T-shirt sleeve, but I didn’t care. I reached for the plastic thing she had in her hand. It was frozen and now it made sense why she was encouraging him to gnaw on it, but when I held it up to him, he pushed it away with both hands.

  “I got this,” I told her, feeling way more confident than I had just a few minutes ago.

  “You’re sure?” she asked. I could hear the trepidation in her voice.

  “You called me, remember?”

  She nodded. “I did. I guess if you’re going to be in his life that means taking the good with the bad. So, I don’t feel guilty I’m leaving you with a crying baby. I left instructions on the kitchen table. Call me if you think it’s too much. I can always come back or send Candy to get him.”

  I looked down at the kid, who was now looking up at me like he only just realized he was being held by a virtual stranger. I made a funny face, and, while that didn’t make him laugh, it seemed to relax him.

  Oh, that’s right. You’re the guy who makes the funny faces at me. My mom knows you, so you must be okay.

  “Go,” I insisted. “Do your baking thing. We’ll be waiting for you when you get back.”

  She hesitated for only a second more, then she was leaning towards me, kissing his fat cheek and saying goodbye.

  I did not get a kiss on the cheek. I planned to point that out next time we did this. It only seemed fair.

  I watched her reverse the car out of the driveway. Watched as she paused for a second to wave at us. Then she drove away, leaving me with my son and an angry set of gums.

  Later that day

  Marc

  I thought I should be nominated for Father of the year. I’d finally gotten Danny to gnaw on his cold, plastic toy, which seemed to alleviate some of his pain. I’d given him a bottle of water with a few ice cubes in it, as so directed by Ash in her note.

  A note that had listed twenty-seven instructions I needed to follow, or possibly follow, depending on the circumstance. That seemed like a lot for a few hours of work.

  I’d made him breakfast, changed a dirty diaper—gagging only once—watched him play for a time, held him when he got cranky again, gave him more food and a bottle of milk, and, now, I’d just put him down for a nap. I stared at the monitor that showed him in his crib. Sound asleep, butt in the air.

  Success. Ash had texted every hour and I’d been happy to text back that all was well. Maybe his diaper was a little loose. Maybe he didn’t eat as much breakfast or lunch as he should have. But we were cool. And Danny seemed to get used to me when I was holding him.

  There was a knock on the front door, and I frowned. Checking my watch, I saw it was just after noon. In my last text, I told Ash she was good to finish her normal day, so I wasn’t expecting her for another few hours.

  Opening the front door, I saw it was Sandra. She smiled when she saw me. A very healthy smile.

  “You don’t look sick,” I said, as I opened the door wider and took a step back.

  “Miraculous recovery,” she offered, poking her nose around every corner.

  “He’s napping,” I said. “And teething, so don’t wake him up.”

  She laughed softly. She inspected the kitchen, which I’d cleaned up after both meals. The living room, which I hadn’t. What was the point of picking up toys when he was only going to play with them later after he woke up?

  “Did I pass?” I asked her, when she finally came back into the living room, having done a silent, quick peek on him in the nursery.

  “I wanted to see if she trusted you enough to call you,” Sandra said, taking a seat on the couch.

  “I’m here.”

  “Yes, but are you staying?”

  “Yep,” I answered, quickly. No matter what happened between me and Ash, I wasn’t leaving my son. I’d had no father growing up as a young boy. As a teenager, I wouldn’t let George fill that role, because I didn’t want to trust another adult only to get burned.

  So, I could only go by what I’d always wanted a dad to be.

  There. Always there.

  I didn’t need to be the best. I didn’t need to know everything. I didn’t even need to teach him how to hit a ball with a bat, because it was something I could never do, which is why I played soccer. I just needed to be there for him.

  Sandra eyed me as if she was assessing my character, then, after a time, she nodded.

  “I sense the concept is strange to you,” she said.

  “What concept?”

  “Family.”

  I shook my head. “Not strange. Just not as familiar to me as it is for others. But I’m learning.”

  “I see now she trusts you. But you know relationships can only work if the trust goes in the other direction, too.”

  I looked at her. “You married?”

  She laughed. “Hell, no. I didn’t trust that bastard for a hot second, and I was right. He cheated on me, so I divorced his ass. It’s why I can see other relationships so clearly from the outside.”

  I laughed and sat across from her.

  “Tell me what happened. Why are you just getting to know your son, who is already a year old?”

  I thought of the crazy truth and the simple truth. “I was in prison for fifteen months for doing something rash. Now, I’m here to make up for that.”

  I waited for her reaction. Waited to see the look of disgust and mistrust cross her face. Instead, she leaned forward. “What did you did you? The truth. No games.”

  “I took some money I thought was mine in order to get Ashleigh, sorry Marie, out of trouble. The court said it wasn’t my money to take. That’s all. Nothing else.”

  She leaned back and nodded. Judging me. Weighing my crimes. Considering if I was being forthright with her. “If I ask Marie, she’ll tell me the same story?”

  “She’ll tell you it was her fault. It wasn’t.” As soon as I said it, I knew it was true. She would take the blame for that herself. I had to convince her to let it go.

  “It makes so much sense now,” Sandra said. “The grief in her eyes. Anytime she wasn’t looking at Danny, there was always so much heartache in her, I thought my own would break from it. She was missing you.”

  Everything. I missed all of you, Marc.

  “You need to fix this,” Sandra said, as she stood to leave. “You need to make it so the two of you can find happiness together.”

  “I’m trying.”

  She frowned. “Try harder.”

  “I’m open to suggestions,” I said, getting up and following her to the front door.

  Again, she gave me that assessing look, only this time it went a little further down until, finally, it landed on my crotch.

  “You know how to use that thing? Then try that.”

  I blinked, because it took a second
for her meaning to penetrate. Then I laughed. A full-out laugh. Something a couple months ago wouldn’t have been possible. Sandra lifted her hand in a wave as she walked away, and, two hours later, Ash came home to find me on the floor playing with Danny.

  For my efforts, I was invited to stay for dinner.

  Later that night

  Ashleigh

  I was nervous, and I didn’t know why. The day couldn’t have gone any better. I filled the orders on time and had a busy day of customers. I was mostly worry-free knowing that Marc was watching Danny. Checking in hourly had helped to alleviate any fears that cropped up.

  Danny was adjusting easily to having Marc in his life, and the idea of having him close by for when things, like life, happened, seemed too good to be true.

  Which was probably why I was nervous.

  That, or I thought he was going to claim his prize tonight and kiss me.

  Would it feel different? Would my new perspective as an independent person who had let go of Marc, change our chemistry somehow? Would it be like kissing a stranger, instead of kissing the boy, the man, I’d known forever?

  I had so many questions, I was tempted to tell him to just do it already and get it over with.

  Sitting on the front porch, another glass of wine in my hand, I was listening to the monitor as Marc was putting Danny down for bed.

  “Are we buds now?”

  Marc’s question came through the static of the monitor.

  “Because if you were my buddy, you’d make this easy on me so I can go spend time with your mom.”

  I smiled and listened to Danny whine a bit.

  “I promise. I have only good intentions. Mostly.”

  Rolling my eyes, I took a sip of wine and turned off the monitor. No doubt Marc knew I was listening.

  Ten minutes later, he joined me on the porch with a beer in hand. I turned the monitor on again, and we settled into comfortable silence.

  “How did it feel spending the whole day with him?”