A Moment of Truth: A Complete Bonus Set (A Matter of Trust #1-2)

by Q. T. Ruby

  Chapter Sixteen

  I arrive at Dan’s family’s house. It’s on a quaint, tree-lined street of row houses, each front door painted a different color. The bare branches of the small trees sway with the biting wind, and the mid-morning sun peeks through the gray clouds.

  Under normal circumstances, I’m sure I’d be enchanted by the view, but right now, my belly’s a twisting pit of anxiety. I have no idea what time these people wake up, and here I am about to barge in on them. They could even be at church. And as horribly awkward as this is, and as much as I hate to admit it, I know the Fairy Slutmothers are right—I need to know the whole story.

  I pay the cabbie and stand on the sidewalk with my lone suitcase, fortifying myself. I step up to the bright yellow door, smooth out my hair and knock, hands shaking. Please let someone be home because it’s so damn cold out here.

  The door swings open, and the woman standing there has to be one of Dan’s sisters. She’s a striking, long-haired blonde who’s got his same smile, which is aimed at me.

  “Hi. Um, I’m Claire Parelli, Dan’s—”

  “Oh, I know who you are. Come on in—it’s fucking freezing out there!” She grabs my arm and yanks me inside. I drag my small luggage in at the same time, trip, and nearly fall into the compact foyer. “I’m so glad you’re here! I’m Charlotte. Let me take your coat.” I begin to unbutton it as I glance around. There’s a staircase in front of me to the left and a small hallway on its right side with a doorway to a living room on the right, where people I can’t see are chattering away.

  “I’m sorry I’m late in coming, you know, in the middle of things and so early.” I hand her my coat and momentarily panic, having forgotten what I’m wearing. I glance down—I’m in dark jeans, boots, and an oversized sweater. Decent enough, although I really hope I don’t stink. I almost wish I could sniff my armpits just in case.

  “Don’t give it a second thought.” She takes my coat and hangs it inside a small closet in the foyer. I give my pits a quick sniff while she’s not looking. Phew. I’m not overly ripe. “I think we’ll all be glad you’re here. He’s been such a bitchy pain in the ass—well, the few moments we’ve seen him, anyway, since he’s holed up in his bedroom like when he was thirteen or fourteen and just so—”

  “Hello!” In walks an older woman. She’s light-haired and slender, and of course, gorgeous, too. “You must be Claire. I’m Danny’s mum.”

  Danny! I offer my hand. “Hi. It’s nice to meet you.” She takes my hand and pulls me into a tight hug.

  She lets go and studies me. “I’m Beatrice. So good to finally meet you. You know, he texted me a photo of you two, but it didn’t do you justice. You are just stunning.” My face flames. She turns to Charlotte. “Now I understand why he’s been so upset.”

  I’m taken aback. “Do you know what—”

  “What happened? None of the details, but we knew something happened,” his mom says. “When you didn’t come with him and with that look on his face, oh I just knew something was wrong.”

  “He was a prick, wasn’t he?” Charlotte asks. “Clearly, he didn’t use the stellar advice I gave him on how to treat you and—”

  A commotion from upstairs—a door slamming followed by the pounding of feet tearing across the floor above—distracts us all. We turn toward the staircase just as a pair of Christmas-stockinged feet bolt down the wooden steps two at a time and jump down the last couple to reach the bottom, landing with a hard thud. It’s Dan, and he’s in a maroon Christmas sweater and jeans, and as always, he takes my breath away. I want to hug him and my heart begins jumping with excitement, but a wall of sadness and dread separates me from him.

  “Hi,” he says, swallowing, his eyes wide. His cheeks redden, and he notices his mom and sister. “I guess you’ve met Claire.”

  “We did. Why don’t you get her something to drink?” his mom says. “I’m sure she’s thirsty from traveling all night, Danny.”

  He nods, rubs the back of his neck, and mumbles, “Yeah, traveled all night.” He seems dazed, confused almost. I’m not sure what to say or do.

  “Was your flight all right?” asks Beatrice.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  She takes my hand and leads me into the living room. “I’m just so happy you’re here. Let me introduce you to everyone.”

  First, there’s Dan’s other sister, Gabrielle, who is identical in every way to Charlotte except Gabrielle has shorter blond hair. “Pleasure to meet you,” she says with a wicked grin, shaking my hand and eyeing Dan at the same time. Then there’s Aunt Sarah and Uncle Brenden, his grandmother, and two cousins, Scott and Jack, who are ten and twelve. Then there’s Dan’s dad, Brian, who is an older and just as handsome version of Dan, except with streaks of gray hair on the sides. He’s striking.

  He shakes my hand. “Lovely to meet you, Claire. Danny’s told me a lot about you.”

  I glance behind me at Dan, who is still red-faced and looks like he might vomit. His eyes shift to his feet. “We’ll be right back,” Beatrice says, leading me into the kitchen. “You’re just in time to eat, too. I’m sure you’re starving. I just have a few things left to put out.”

  “It smells delicious,” I say, my stomach rumbling.

  “Thank you,” she says, proudly. “Danny, get her a drink, please.”

  “Right. Um, what would you like?” He rubs the back of his neck again. “We have coffee, tea, water, wine, orange juice and mimosas.” I feel as nervous as he’s acting. My stomach flutters. I really just want this conversation to happen, but it’s obvious we’ll need to wait until later, so until then I should drink. “A mimosa, please.”

  “Of course,” he says, fumbling and clanking the glass at one counter to fix it. When he brings it to me, he keeps a hold of the glass and a hold on my eyes.

  He’s about to say something when his mother says, “Okay, you two lovebirds, time to eat.” My face flames again as I turn to see his mom, holding a platter of fresh fruit and smiling brightly at us. She walks out of the room, calling everyone in the house into another room I haven’t seen yet. Dan holds me back from following her.

  “I . . . um . . .” He stops, and I can tell he’s debating what to say, but after a moment, he sighs. “Merry Christmas, Claire.” He releases the glass.

  “Merry Christmas, Dan.”

  “Danny!” his mom calls from the other room.

  “We should get in there,” I say.

  He nods, looks at my hand, and glances up, gauging me as he reaches for my fingers. I let him take hold. My heart’s mixed up. “This way,” he says, leading me through a doorway from the kitchen. We enter the dining room that’s beautifully decorated with holly, mistletoe, wreaths, twinkling lights, and candles strewn about. He holds out a seat for me. His sister Charlotte scoots next to me quickly, giggling, gobbling up the seat Dan wanted. Dan’s dad is to my right. Dan huffs and sits across from me, next to his other sister, Gabrielle.

  Plates of eggs, bacon, toast, fruit, and items I’ve never seen or tried before but smell delicious are passed around. I only wish I had more of an appetite.

  During the meal, Dan and I occasionally catch eyes, but we both look away. It’s just too much to have him right here with all of these questions mounting in my head. I try to be as polite and cordial as possible, but I know I’m overly quiet. I’m just not me.

  As we eat, everyone speaks so kindly to me, and it strikes me how different it is than when Dan came to my parents’ house—the grilling, the awkward silences, the underlying challenges—and frankly, it was shitty and embarrassing. I find myself growing quieter as my mind huddles around this very idea. How can I feel like a native here in a foreign country with people I’ve only just met, yet with my own family I feel so foreign?

  No more than a few seconds pass after the meal is over when Dan says, “Would you l
ike to go for a walk?”

  “Would you, please? You two have been eyeballing each other this whole time. Just go and get the conversation over with already. Jeez,” Charlotte says, winking at me.

  His mother laughs. “Oh, I remember that one year when you and I hardly said two words to one another,” she says to his dad.

  He dabs at his lips, smiling. “Oh yes. One of the first years we spent Christmas together, I had the brilliant idea of getting her new oven mitts—”

  “Can you believe that? Oven mitts,” she says, scoffing.

  “Well, you had been going on about how your old ones were so tattered you kept burning yourself. So here I am, thinking she’ll love them, and she starts swatting me with them instead! I ran all over the house and escaped after I fled through the front door, which she promptly locked behind me, and I had no shoes on and there was snow on the ground. Then I’m outside banging on the door and pleading to be let in. She left me out there for hours!”

  “Hours? Not hours. Minutes, maybe. Probably seconds.”

  “It was long enough that my toes were nearly purple by the time she did relent and let me in. Horrible. I’ve still not forgiven you,” he says with a wink and a smile.

  “You haven’t forgiven me? Well, I still haven’t forgiven you!” She smiles slyly.

  We all laugh.

  Charlotte interrupts. “You’re all a little too flirty for my liking. You’ll give me nightmares. I think I need more to drink.”

  “Well, enough of us. Go do your talking while I get this place cleaned up,” his mother says, standing. She points to Dan’s dad. “And you’re helping!”

  Dan and I leave the table and grab our coats. We button up and head outside, which has turned grayer since I arrived. We walk down the street, side by side, but there’s a chasm of awkwardness between us. “Looks like it might snow,” he says.

  “You’ll be noticed here on the sidewalk. Shouldn’t we hide or something?”

  “Fuck that. I’m tired of fucking hiding.”

  Whoa. I nod again, unsure of how to respond, let alone start this conversation that I flew all this way to have. I probably should have planned something to say rather than just worrying about what would be said. My heart’s sure pounding hard.

  “I’m surprised you came,” he says.

  “Should I not have?” I stop walking, panicking inside.

  He stops, too, and looks at me. “No, no. I’m glad you did.” He continues walking.

  I keep up, but a few moments later, I can’t take the uncertainty anymore. I stop again and face him. “Just tell me—how long have you been cheating on me with Sophie? I should have known that’s why she was all over you on those shows.”

  “What shows?” His brows are knitted together.

  “During promotion. You asked me to watch, remember? I had to stop, by the way, because she was crawling all over you every time I watched.”

  He shakes his head as if he’s confused, but how can he be? “You’ve got this all wrong, Claire. I’m not cheating on you. I didn’t sleep with her during promo.”

  “So she’s lying?”

  He exhales deeply. His jaw tightens and shakes his head before he speaks. “The truth is I slept with her one night, last spring after you broke up with me.” He rubs the back of his neck and his cheeks burn bright red. “I know you were going through your own thing then, and I get it, or I got it, but it still hurt like fucking hell. I didn’t think I’d see you again. You came into my life like a tornado—blowing everything up—in a very good way, but then you left, and frankly, it fucking sucked, Claire. So when we had our cast party, I got wasted like I did every fucking night back then, and she came onto me. I was lonely and sad, and even though Colin tried to stop me, I had nothing to lose, because I thought I’d already lost the one thing I loved—you. So it didn’t matter. Did it help to sleep with her? No. It just made seeing her afterward weird.”

  Oh boy. Definitely not what I expected.

  He starts pacing in front of me, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry you found out the way you did, but . . . was I going to tell you about it the moment we got back together? No.” He stops to look at me then continues pacing. “For one, I was so happy to be back with you, that I didn’t really think of it, and two, once I did think of it, was I going to risk losing you again by telling you about one night while we were broken up that meant nothing? So I kept quiet, and I really, honestly, didn’t think much about it, until I saw you and Sophie speaking at the after-party. I know she’s a bitch, but I thought she had enough respect for me not to hurt you, and in essence me, by telling you. Clearly, I was very wrong about that.”

  He continues to pace in front of me. I want to say something, but he continues, “And you can’t tell me that you wouldn’t have run away from me if I told you about it, because you did.” He stops to face me again. “You ran. Again. I’m tired of you running. I’m not a saint; I’m fucking human.”

  My chest is tight with an avalanche of emotions. I can hardly breathe, let alone speak.

  Behind his eyes are pain and anger—his stiff posture and strained jaw confirm it. “I would never cheat on you, Claire. Never. I’ve been cheated on, and it’s humiliating and painful, so I’d never do that to you. I’d end things before I did that. I promise you that. And I hope the same goes for you—that you wouldn’t cheat on me. I see how other men look at you.” His eyes narrow a fraction.

  I shake my head. “Never.”

  “I understand why you left the way you did the other night, maybe I would have done the same, I don’t know, but I wish you had enough faith in me to talk to me or to answer my calls. Why are you so ready to believe that I’d lie to you?” He waits, hands deep in his coat pockets, his eyes expectant.

  My gaze falls to my feet, which are freezing. I take a moment to gather my thoughts, which are running amuck in my head. “I don’t know . . . I probably should have, but I was completely blindsided by it. And the look on Sophie’s face was so smug and satisfied—just the idea of you and her . . .” I shake my head, trying to stop the vision, and look up at him. I take a deep breath and focus on his sea-green eyes. Lay it out, Claire. “Old habits die hard. I’m always waiting for something bad to happen, because being with you is like . . .” My heart is racing so hard I’m having a hard time speaking. “A dream, and it’s easier to believe that this cannot be real than to believe that it is real. That someone as amazing as you could love me . . . as much as I love you.” I watch him carefully. He swallows hard, and I swear his eyes glisten, but that could just be the sparkle of snowflakes that have started to fall.

  “Did you ever think it’s hard for me, too? To believe you love me for me?” His voice is quiet and pained. It’s a dagger straight to my heart.

  I shake my head in reply. “I’m so sorry, Dan.” I hope he won’t pull away, but I reach out and take his hand anyway.

  Squeezing it hard, he pulls me close and hugs me tight. He whispers in my ear, “I’m crazy about you.”

  I whisper back, “Flaws and all? Because I have a lot of them, and they’re leaking out all over you and everything else. I’m making a mess of things.”

  He pulls back to look at me, but his hands remain tight on my waist while my hands are crossed behind his neck. “Flaws and all, yes. I like your mess.” He smiles gently, and I kiss him. He seems surprised by the kiss. “I’m happy you came here.”

  “Me, too. I love that you ran down the stairs.”

  He blushes and rolls his eyes, like he’s embarrassed about it. “Well, I was surprised. Thought maybe I was hearing things because you wouldn’t answer my calls or anything—you’re stubborn.”

  “I am not.”

  “Ha! Yes, you are. Tell me, did Camille or Bridget have to force you on a plane?”

  “Those bitches! Did they call you? They
promised they wouldn’t!”

  “No, they didn’t, but I’m right, aren’t I? You had to be forced! See? You’re stubborn.” He’s got a smug smile aimed at me.

  I tip my head back in laughter and defeat. “Okay, fine—they pushed me onto the plane. At least it wasn’t out of the plane.”

  “Now that would be a real mess.”

  I grab him and hug him close, holding him for a long few minutes. “Are we okay now?”

  He rubs my back as we embrace. “Yes, we are.”

  I shift to kiss him, and in no time, we’re the epicenter of volcanic passion. Breathless, I break our kiss and step back, out of his reach. “Oh my God. That was intense. People are probably watching.” I glance around, but the street is quiet and empty.

  He’s flushed, and he runs his hand through his hair. “Who the fuck cares? As far as I’m concerned, our dating is public knowledge. Next time I’m on a show, I’m telling.” He reaches forward and snatches me close, coming at me again with those soft lips, kissing me into oblivion. My knees grow weak, while my hands, of their own accord, worm their way inside his open coat and slip under his shirt, where his muscles, as strong and ripped as ever, quiver at my touch. I scratch down his spine, and he moans in my mouth. His hands are quick to follow, unbuttoning my coat and slipping his hands up inside my thick sweater. He fiddles with my bra hook in the back. I step away again, this time a little farther. “Oh my God, we have to stop. We’re on the sidewalk!”

  He shakes his head at me, like I’m nuts. “It’s hours before we can be alone at my house. Fucking hours. I need you. Now.”

  “Dan! We can’t fuck on the street!” I laugh—he’s shameless!

  “Why not? No one’s around.” He glances in all directions.

  I’m giggling and keeping him at arm’s length. “You’re going to have to be patient.”

  “Impatience is one of my flaws.” He shrugs playfully.

  Shaking my head, I smile, and say, “Flaws. We must accept our flaws.”