Forever: Beautiful Series, book two

by Anderson, Lilliana

  “Thought we might need this.”

  “Thanks,” I say, taking it from her and dropping it still folded on the bed.

  We stand together for an awkward moment before I sit in front of her and pull her towards me, sliding my hands up her legs and under the hem of her shirt. My intension is to hold her to me, to talk about what just happened. But, a grin creeps over my face as my hands continue up, never meeting any resistance from underwear. Her eyes sparkle mischievously, as her hands slide over my hair and down the side of my face affectionately.

  “You’re wearing too many clothes,” I say, as I lift her shirt over her head and pull her onto the bed with me.

  “Thank god you set me straight.”

  “Hmm,” I say, my hand sliding down the length of her body as her breathing changes. “Maybe we should try that again—properly this time?” I want to put the whole ‘no condom’ thing behind us.

  “I think that’s a wonderful idea,” she whispers. “But this time I get to be on top.”

  * * *

  “Do you want to tell me the story behind this tattoo?” I ask, running my hands down her back as we lie together afterward.

  “Not really,” she whispers, her body stiffening slightly as she speaks. Not wanting to push her any further, I move my hand from her back to caress her arm instead. Feeling even more curious but knowing that now isn’t the time to push it.

  A silence settles over us. It's not one of those uncomfortable ones that makes you feel like you’ve made a mistake after sleeping with someone. It’s one of those silences, filled with questions and answers that remain unspoken, but at some point will need to be said.

  “Do you have any plans this weekend?” she asks me suddenly.

  “Um, no, do you?”

  “I do actually,” she says carefully, sitting up to look at me. Her mass of dark hair falling over her shoulders as she leans forward to talk to me. I raise my eyebrows in question, trying to keep my focus on her face and not her body. “I’d like you to come with me actually. For moral support. I’m… I’m going to meet my father.”

  I sit up quickly, frowning in confusion. “Your father? But…”

  I thought her family was dead?

  Paige

  “I know. You thought he was dead,” I say, reaching down to the floor to pick up the shirt lying there. It’s not mine, but it will do. I don’t want to have this conversation naked.

  Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath, post-coitus probably isn’t the best time to be doing this, but I feel the need to open up to him. I need to give him something about me. I feel so guilty, like I’m leading him astray and tricking him into caring about me. He needs to know something about what he’s getting into.

  “I’m listening,” he says, his eyes boring into me.

  “My family isn’t dead, Elliot. They're all alive and well—as far as I know, anyway. They kicked me out when I was fifteen, and I’ve been lying and saying that they’re dead so people don’t question me.” I let it all out in a rush of breath, and then hold it, waiting for him to react.

  “They what?” he asks looking down at me, deep furrows between his brows.

  “They’re not dead,” I repeat.

  “No, no; I got that. I’m asking about the other part—they kicked you out?” His face screws up in disbelief. “At fifteen?”

  “Yes, Elliot. They kicked me out at fifteen.”

  “Who the fuck does that?” he mutters.

  While at the same time I say, “You’re not angry with me?”

  He knits his brow. “Angry with you? Why the hell would I be angry with you?”

  “Because I lied, Elliot. I made you think I was an orphan.”

  He puts his hands on my shoulders, holding me firmly as he peers into my face intently. “Your parents kicked you out of home when you were still a child. If my parents did that, I’d probably say they were dead too.”

  I blink rapidly as tears threaten to spill from my eyes. I can’t believe he's reacting this way. I expected him to yell at me, to tell me he needed time to think. What I didn’t expect was complete understanding.

  “I’ve been lying about my past for years now,” I admit. “When I got my life sorted out, I found it was easier to say they were dead. When I was honest, people looked at me strangely, wondering what I did to deserve it, and I didn’t want to answer their questions anymore. Especially when I didn’t do anything. They just didn’t like me.”

  His strong arms encircle me and drag me closer so I’m sitting on his lap. This huge relief fills me as he tilts my face upward to meet my eyes. “I would never send you away,” he whispers, bringing his lips to mine. As our mouths move together, my threatened tears slide quietly from my closed eyes as my emotions take over and my fears fall away, cracking my heart open just enough so hope blossoms inside of me. I find myself doing something that’s been so difficult for me before now—I’m letting him in, just a little.

  I pause our kissing and rest my forehead on his shoulder. Perhaps one day he’ll understand everything about me, but telling him my full story is a risk I can’t take yet. I can only afford to show him the first chapter. I want to tell him about my life before I was sent out on my own.

  Breathing deep as I close my eyes, I revel in the feel of his skin against my cheek as I keep my head tucked and speak quietly against his chest.

  “My Mother worked—probably still works—for one of the big multinational accounting firms in Sydney. When she was in her early thirties, she got sent here, to London, for some sort of business trip. When she came back, she found out she was pregnant with me.”

  “She had an affair?”

  I nod. “She tried to pass me off as one of them. But as I grew, people would comment on how my brother and sister look so different from me with their blond hair and fair skin. They would ask my mother, ‘where did she get those eyes?’, ‘where did she get that olive skin?’” I bite at my lip as I look off into the distance, re-living unsettling memories of a time I couldn’t understand. “I look nothing like my family, Elliot. And I got treated that way.”

  “My beautiful, Paige,” he whispers, his eyes sad and gentle as he runs a hand over my hair. “How could anyone treat you poorly?”

  His words cause a swell of emotion to clog my throat. “I spent a lot of time wondering if I was really Cinderella. They always gave my older brother and younger sister everything they wanted while my own possessions were meagre in comparison. They assigned me every chore, and if something went wrong, I was the first to be blamed for it.

  “As I got older, I noticed the way my parents looked at me. I always felt like I was such a disappointment. I wasn’t good at school like my siblings, nor was I good at sports. I was just me.

  “It didn’t matter what I did to try to fit in, I knew I wasn’t wanted, so I did what I could to stay out of the way. Then one day, I was walking up my driveway, and I noticed a bag with an envelope on top. I opened it, and along with two-hundred dollars was a note in my mother’s handwriting. It said ‘This isn’t your home anymore.’ Stupidly, I tried the door. They’d changed the locks.”

  “What?” he spits. “Who the hell does that?”

  Pressing my lips together, I shrug. “I went to a friend’s house and stayed there for as long as I could then couch hopped for a while... I never understood why I was so different, and I hated them for not loving me. But when I was sixteen, I ordered a copy of my birth certificate to get my license. That’s when I found out why. The man I believed was my father, wasn’t my father. My mother had an affair when she was in London. My real father lives here.”

  “She put his name on your birth certificate?”

  I nod.

  “But that means—”

  “That my dad always knew I wasn’t his? Yeah. I know. Explains why he could never stand the sight of me. I remember him yelling at her for hugging me when I was little. He wanted me as miserable as he was, and for whatever fucked-up reason, my mum went along with it.”
<
br />   Elliot is quiet for a moment, his expression deep in thought. I close my eyes tightly while I wait for his response, hoping he won’t ask for any more information. That’s all I can handle sharing.

  “So, this guy—your real father—you want to meet him?” Elliot asks finally, his voice soft as he speaks into my hair. He’s been gently stroking my back while he listened to me.

  “Yes. But I’m too nervous to go alone. Will you come with me?”

  “Of course,” he whispers, lifting my head so he can look into my eyes.

  “ I was so worried you’d say no.”

  “Understand me when I say this, Paige—I would do anything for you.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  That admission from him, spoken so softly, has so much power that it causes a physical reaction. It starts in my chest and swirls outwards until it intensifies to a point where I grab his face on either side and bring our mouths together. I hold him so tightly as I kiss him, my arms wrapping around his head and neck as we pull each other closer, not willing to let each other go for a frantic second. Lying back on the single bed, we wrap ourselves around each other, absorbed in a passion that keeps us joined for the rest of the night. For the first time in my life, I start to believe in the existence of true love.

  Fifteen

  Elliot

  Shane was good enough to let us use his car for the day so I can drive Paige out to Cambridge to meet her father. I’m still in shock that Paige’s mother would do something so horrible to her. She was just a kid. She didn’t ask her mother to have an affair. Why punish her for the actions of the adults around her?

  “Are you OK?” she asks, her hand resting on my leg as I drive.

  I glance at her momentarily, nodding to show her I’m fine before turning back to the road and my thoughts.

  “So, does this guy—your father—know you’re coming?” I ask eventually.

  “Yeah he does. I contacted him yesterday, and I spoke to him before I left Australia. He knows who I am, and he’s willing to meet me. But I’ve been too scared to do anything about it until now. I mean, what if he’s awful? I feel like this is my one and only chance to have a real family. What if he doesn’t want anything to do with me beyond just meeting me?” She shakes her head and slides her hands over her face and through her hair, sighing heavily as she drops them in her lap.

  Resting her head back into the seat, she sits and watches me as I drive, her stress and worry radiating off her. I reach over and grab her hand again and give it a reassuring squeeze, lending her as much of my strength as I can. Although, I have to admit I feel nervous about this too. If this guy’s name was on her birth certificate, it means he knew about her when she was born. Where the hell was he all this time? Where was he when her mother tossed her out of home? I’m just glad she asked me to come with her as emotional support. No matter how this turns out, she will need someone in her corner, keeping a close eye on her.

  “Thank you, Paige,” I tell her suddenly.

  “Thank you for what?” she asks, sounding surprised.

  “For trusting me. For wanting me to come today.”

  “Oh… OK,” she says, her voice small as she looks out the window at the passing scenery. I leave our hands connected to comfort her as we drive in silence, listening to the ‘Jebediah’ disc that is the only music Shane’s car plays since the CD player was jammed when he bought it.

  “It’s kind of pretty, isn’t it?” she asks, as we enter the town her father lives in. She’s focused on the world outside as it flits past us, so I don’t think she’s expecting an answer, instead I check the readout on the GPS. It says that we’re only ten minutes away from his home address.

  “What’s his name?” I ask, as we pull up outside his house. It’s a two-storey, light brown brick home with a chimney on top of a charcoal tiled roof. It has a large brick driveway leading to a single garage. A path flows from there to the house where there’s a bay window and a navy blue front door with white edging.

  “Daniel Ashdown,” she tells me, her voice vacant as she sits, staring toward the house. I can feel her nerves in the pit of my stomach through the connection of our hands. After a while, she has made no attempt to move. I watch her quietly as she continues to look at the house, her eyes wide and fearful. Suddenly, her breath catches and she speaks. “Drive away, Elliot. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

  “Paige… Paige, look at me.” I wait until she drags her eyes from the house and fixes them on mine. Reaching out, I hold her face in my hands, moving my thumbs against her cheeks to calm her. “You are probably one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. I know you can do this. You haven’t told me a lot about your life, but from the snippets you’ve given me, it’s been a shit storm. Not many people could go through what you have and come out the other side of it as a functioning human being. Meeting your biological father will be easy in comparison.”

  “How do you know I did?”

  “Become a functioning human being?” I ask, watching her head as she attempts to nod in response. “Because I know you in my heart, Paige. You’re a fighter.”

  Paige

  How does he see me with such purity when I've told him I've done horrible things? Is it because I’ve spared him the gory details of everything except my beginning? Would he still see me the same if he knew my end? He couldn’t. Oh god, I wish I could keep him. I don’t think I've ever had a man be this kind to me. It aches inside and I can’t decide if the feeling is good or bad—it just aches.

  The ache inside me intensifies, and I feel like I need to confess everything before we get too deep. I open my mouth, but movement outside the car draws my attention away from his beautiful face.

  A man with short dark hair sprinkled with greys and eyes a duller version of mine is peering into the car. Elliot turns to where I'm looking and clicks the button to lower his window.

  “Are you Paige?” he asks in a voice I recognise from our brief phone calls. I’m speechless at the sight of him, my nerves boiling up and rolling around in turmoil through my stomach, I can do little more than nod my head. “Won’t you come in? We’ve been expecting you.”

  I look briefly at Elliot, whose face is etched with concern for me, and get out of the car. In this moment, I feel like I’m apart from myself, drifting along behind the man who is my biological father. Elliot’s arm comes around me, and I suddenly feel grounded and so grateful that he accompanied me. I feel a strength around him that no matter how hard I try, I just don’t have on my own.

  Daniel—my father—leads us inside his home, taking our coats and hanging them up on a stand in his entryway.

  “I’m Daniel,” he says, holding his hand out to Elliot, who quickly takes it in greeting.

  “Sorry mate, I’m Elliot. I’m here for Paige,” he states simply.

  “Of course you are. I trust you had a pleasant drive?” Daniel enquires politely.

  “We did, thank you,” Elliot answers for us both. I’m still yet to find my voice.

  Silence descends on us for a moment as we all stand in the entryway looking at each other, feeling unsure what to say.

  “Paige,” Daniel says turning towards me and taking my hands in his. I panic slightly when he touches me and flick my eyes to Elliot, who is watching calmly. He gives me a look that tells me it’s OK, and I take comfort from that, letting out my breath and focusing once again on Daniel. “This is a wonderful day for me, finally meeting you. I had hoped you would eventually track me down. Come, we have much to talk about and there’s someone else waiting to see you.”

  “Really? Who?” I ask, imagining I may have another relative in the UK. Perhaps I have half siblings, an uncle, an aunt?

  Daniel beckons for us to follow, leading us further inside, the light touch of Elliot’s hand on the small of my back keeping me strong as I move along the hall to pass through the set of double doors where Daniel is waiting.

  Just inside the doorway, I freeze as my eyes land
on a woman, so much older and smaller than I remember. Shock and disbelief take over as my eyes widen, watching as she rises from the couch to greet us.

  Elliot

  Paige’s body stiffens by my side. I don’t know what’s just happened but there’s a woman here that she doesn’t look comfortable seeing.

  “Paige,” the woman says. Sorrow is written all over her face and comes out in the sound of her voice.

  “Take me home, Elliot, please take me home.” Paige’s face turns toward me, grief stricken as she grabs at my arm and tries to pull me to the door.

  “What’s going on?” I ask, worried. I want to give her what she’s asking for, but I know what it took her to come here. I don’t want her to leave without getting any answers.

  “Please, Paige, stay,” the woman implores her. “I just want to talk, nothing more.”

  Paige stands unmoving, still turned toward me, gripping at my arm. Her eyes are closed and her voice waivers, her body quivering against me as she speaks. “Why are you here?”

  “Because I live here, Paige. I divorced your father, not long after I… after you left, and I came back here,” the woman, who I’m now guessing is Paige’s mother says.

  Paige shakes her head frantically. Her eyes closed as if she’s trying to force her feelings out of her head. I circle my arms firmly around her, trying to give her as much strength as I can.

  “I felt so guilty for what I did. I tried, Paige, I tried to find you. But no one knew where you were, you just disappeared.” Her mother’s tone is low as she approaches us.

  Paige’s body suddenly snaps to life as she turns to face her mother. “I had nowhere to go, mother! Nowhere. You have no idea what I went through; what you forced me to become. I will never forgive you for what you did. Never!” She’s yelling, her body shaking and her face bright red with anger. I touch my hand to her shoulder, and she spins back into me, throwing her body against mine.