Goodbye Secrets

by Jacquelyn Ayres

  “Bloody hell, Becca! I think I got some of your shampoo in my eye!” He pushes me gently to the side to rinse his face. Who knew that shampoo not only washes away dirt, but also special moments?

  “Sorry, an impromptu dance derailed me from rinsing.” I nudge him with my hip.

  “Well, let’s see what we can do about that.” He grabs the showerhead and begins to rinse my hair out.

  “Do you want to talk about why you were upset?” Grayson looks up sheepishly as he buttons his jeans. I’m too busy biting my lip to prevent a drooling incident to answer him. He is fucking hot just standing there in his jeans and nothing else.

  “Baby, you are quite the magnificent specimen. And no, let’s just chuck it up to hormones.” Honestly, what he said in the shower squashed my rising insecurities.

  “You sure, sweetheart?” He reaches out and takes my hand.

  “Yes.” I look up at him. He completely towers over me. I love it, which is a bit odd for me. I never thought about height as a point of attraction. Then again, I’m not the same Becca from so long ago, the one who contemplated what she was interested in. For seven years, I turned those thoughts off or buried them. I’m not quite sure, but my preferences in the opposite sex were just not a thought that ever occurred to me. Obviously, I noted when a guy was good-looking, but it was just an observation. There was nothing behind it.

  “So, I’m a magnificent specimen, huh?” He leans down and sweeps my lips with his.

  “Yes, Mr. James. You are absolutely breathtaking. I could look at you all day.” I hug him and fight off the urge to outline every muscle on his chest with my tongue.

  “The feeling is mutual, Ms. Campbell, especially now with your slightly swollen belly.” He places his hand there.

  “Oh. You’ve noticed?” I can’t hide my disappointment. I thought only I could see it.

  “You’re my favorite subject, Becca. I notice everything about you. Especially your body. I love seeing this.” He kneels down and plants soft wet kisses all over it. “Becca!” he says sharply, and sits back on his heels. “You haven’t told anyone, have you?” He almost seems panicked. Does he not want anyone to know? My newest member, Insecure Sybecca, paces and bites her nails.

  “No, baby, why?” I thought he wanted this.

  “No one at all?”

  Whenever he says at all in an urgent matter, it sounds like a tall—it’s so cute! God, I love his accent!

  “Becca!” he snaps.

  “Uh, sorry, no. Well ...” I wince.

  “Well, what?” He stands and chucks my chin so I look up at him.

  “I told Stacey.”

  “Jesus H. Christ!” he yells, then and runs his hand through his hair as he walks away from me.

  “Grayson, I thought you wanted this. You’re confusing me!” I meant to yell that last sentence, but instead, I’m crying. I feel like a blubbering idiot. Fucking hormones!

  “Oh, sweetheart, no, don’t cry. C’mere.” He pulls me into his arms. “Of course I want this baby. I just ... Becca, with everything going on, it’s best if no one knows about the little one.” He palms my belly again. “Not until we’re out of danger, sweetheart. Ugh, damn it.” He lays his forehead on mine. “What did she say?”

  “Nothing, baby. She was still in a coma. You didn’t let me finish.” I sigh, finding his sudden laughter peculiar.

  “Oh, baby, you drive me mad! Honestly, Becca!” He shakes his head and captures my lips. He’s calling me baby a lot. It’s starting to sound more natural from him, and I like it. I wrap my arms around his neck and deepen the kiss.

  Hazel greets me at the bottom of the stairs like I’m her teenaged daughter coming in ten minutes past curfew. Her arched eyebrows ask, What do you have to say for yourself, young lady?

  “I’m a devout Christian, Hazel. I like to pray every chance I get.” I smirk playfully. She shakes her head at me, unable to hide her amusement. “Have you found Jesus yet, Hazel?” I ask in the most serious tone I can muster.

  “Oh, Becca, what happened to my good girl? You’re so naughty!” She swats my arm as we walk, but then releases a giggle against her will.

  “Your nephew happened. You did have a hand in raising him. So, this must be all your fault!” I grab the piece of paper she’s holding. “What’s this?” I go to unfold it.

  “Wait, let’s go into the kitchen.” She looks around nervously.

  Apparently, she didn’t receive the memo that we have a security team of twenty-five, give or take ... we are definitely being followed!

  “Okay. Open it.” She nods as we get into the kitchen. I walk over to the island as I do so. It’s an itinerary of the few days before Christmas.

  December 22nd Scottish Shortbread

  Fresh evergreens

  Ornaments

  December 23rd Chocolate chip and peanut butter cookies

  Mincemeat pies

  Apple and Lancashire cheese pie

  Pumpkin bread

  Treacle tart

  Bakewell Tart

  Great British Pudding

  December 24th Lasagna, sausage, and meatballs

  December 25th Full British Breakfast

  Sausage, egg, bacon, and beans

  2:00 p.m. Dinner and Christmas crackers

  6:00 p.m. Christmas Tea

  At least one hour of Christmas carols a night!

  “What is this?” I look to Hazel.

  “I was looking through a box of pictures to try and find a picture of Gracie with my sister to frame for him here. I came across this. I had him tell me everything they did for Christmas so I could keep it the same for him. When he went off to university, he didn’t want to do it anymore.” She shrugs.

  “Well, I would like to incorporate as much of these into our traditions as possible. Let’s just do it!” I smile. Hazel nods and she starts making a list of things we’ll need while I get on the Internet to search for any British food stores. “Ugh, we have to get down to Nashua!” I show her the page for the British Aisles food store. “He’s not going to let me go unless he knows exactly where I am.” I lean my face on my fisted hand.

  “We’ll say we’re going to the outlets down there. I’ll ask him.” She taps the counter with her finger ... she means business.

  “What are you two hens up to?”

  I jump at Grayson’s voice and quickly click out of the website. I close the laptop as nonchalantly as I can.

  “We were just discussing the Merrimack Premium Outlets. They opened this year. We haven’t been yet.” I slowly turn in his direction. Shit! He’s looking from me to the laptop. I pretend not to notice and turn my gaze to Hazel.

  “Yes. Gracie, Becca and I would like to go to finish up our Christmas shopping.” Oh man, she totally hates this. Having to ask her nephew for permission? I’m right there with ya, sister!

  “Becca’s done with her shopping, Auntie.” He looks back to me. Why is he so suspicious?

  “Well, I have one more thing I need to get for you,” I say quickly. Maybe too quickly.

  “And I have several items I need to get, Gracie,” Hazel pipes up.

  “Becca, the only thing I want is you here safe. The answer is no. That goes for you too, Auntie.” Why is it that when he looks at me and tells me no, he’s abrupt and his jawline is twitching, but when he tells his aunt, he softens up? It’s infuriating. Kinda hot ... but infuriating!

  “Oh, Gracie, you’re overreacting!” Hazel snaps. Uh-oh. All Sybeccas put their earplugs in and hold on to anything nailed to the floor. Cautionary Sybecca locks herself in the panic room.

  “Overreacting?! Aunt Hazel, my fiancée was kidnapped by her abusive ex-husband, who was then murdered! Stacey was raped and practically beaten to death, and somebody placed a bomb on my plane that blew it to smithereens. They almost killed our daughta! I am not overreacting! If you disagree, well, then tough shit! The ansa is no! I’m not losing anybody else that I love!” He slams a cabinet shut—Hazel must’ve opened it to get tea earlier.
r />   Man, he is so angry! That sounded extra British. I may need a panty change. I’m so focused on Hazel’s reaction that I don’t notice Grayson approaching me until I breathe him in and feel his chest against my shoulder.

  “Now, Becca, why don’t you show me what you were looking at?” he snaps. Cue erratic breathing ... damn it! “Feeling nervous, sweetheart?” he asks as he leans down and opens the laptop.

  “No, Mr. Holmes.” I whisper my new pet name for him. “I’m feeling like I want to fuck the shit out of you.” I nip at his earlobe as he takes in a sharp breath. A slow smile starts to form at his lips, but he manages to control it.

  “Let’s see, what do we have here?” He works at retrieving the last thing I did.

  I suck at his earlobe. “You sounded extra British, and you know what that does to me, baby.”

  “Email or website?” He’s terse. I grasp his face with my hands to make him look at me.

  “Stop, baby.” I kiss him.

  “Ansa me!” he yells, making me jump. I can’t help my quizzical look. What is this about? “Email or website?” he demands, all up in my face this time. I know what this is! I no longer want in his pants. I want to kick him in his pants! “Email, I guess!” he says through his teeth and starts to investigate there. I get up and realize Hazel has already left. I follow her example.

  I have two hours before Stacey gets here. Morgan’s out riding with her team around her; that can’t be much fun. It’s been a roller-coaster morning. I decide to take a nap in Morgan’s bed.

  “Melissa, I’m going to go lay in Morgan’s room. Tell her to please not come in.” I grab the spare key to her room.

  “Okay, Bec. Are you all right?”

  “Just tired.” I smile and head off to her room. I lock the door and pull off my jeans. I pass out as soon as my head hits the pillow, defeated. He’ll never trust me.

  GRAYSON

  “Where’s Becca?” Aunt Hazel asks from behind me. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m checking her deleted emails. She left.” I can’t believe she’s taking emails from him. Wait, maybe she sent him one!

  “She wasn’t looking at any emails, Grayson. She was looking at a website for a British food store so she could have all of your favorites here for Christmas! How did I help raise such an asshole?”

  I believe my aunt just slapped me upside my head as if I were twelve. I deserve worse than that. I am an arsehole! Oh, Christ! Why do I keep doing this to her? She keeps proving to me that she loves only me, and I keep proving to her that her efforts are futile! I need to stop this. She’s carrying my baby, for Christ’s sake! I close the laptop.

  “You’ve got issues, son!” Auntie points her finger at me. Her eyes become sad and her chin quivers.

  “I’m sorry, Auntie. I love you.” I hug her to me and kiss her hair. “I have to go find Becca. And grovel.” I sigh and get up to leave the kitchen.

  “Looking for Becca?” Melissa grabs my arm. I look back and nod. “She’s napping in Morgan’s room. She doesn’t want to be disturbed.” I nod again and head up to our room.

  Well, Grayson, you really stepped in it now! I sit at the desk and try to come up with a brilliant plan to make up for my behavior. I hate Ray! I wish I could edit him out of our lives! I have to consider, though, where we may be had he not tried to come between us. Having Ray in the mix did indeed help her realize how she truly felt and get over the panic of her feelings. Still, I wish he didn’t pounce on her like he did, though I would’ve done the same in his shoes. I’ll just never truly be able to understand why she welcomed his advances so quickly. Because of their history? Because he waited so long, and she felt she had to reward him? She told him she regrets the timing. So she doesn’t actually regret being with him? How am I not supposed to always wonder? They may have a history, but she doesn’t really know anything about him, or at least his past. She has no idea of the amount of red flags he has raised. She’s only now getting suspicious of him! She has no idea how much he has omitted and lied about!

  I have to keep her in the dark a little bit longer, though. We have so much information, incriminating information, but no solid links yet. I want to tell Becca what we have, if only to keep her more cautious and safe. She’s right—knowledge is power, and I am leaving her vulnerable.

  I just don’t know if I can trust her with this information. She tends to be impulsive, especially now with her raging hormones. I’m not sure if I should tell her about Liz, but I may have to. That’s it! I’ll tell her about Liz. That’s the perfect way for me to apologize! Besides, Liz’s predicament has nothing to do with anything going on here!

  I spring up from my chair and, with a new sense of purpose, head downstairs. I go to the front desk and look for the spare key to Morgan’s room. It’s gone. Damn it! I set out to look for Aunt Hazel—surely she has the master!

  “Auntie, do you have a master key, love, for Morgy’s room?” To sprinkle a bit of sugar on my request, I offer her my best boyish (remember how much you love me?) grin.

  “Yes, I do.” She walks past me.

  “Erm ... can I have it, please?” This woman has a magical way of always making me feel like a twelve-year-old boy—and a spoiled one, at that!

  “No. Leave her alone, Gracie. Give her a break.” She sits in one of the new armchairs in the lounge and picks up her knitting.

  “What are you making, Auntie?” I sit on the sofa near her.

  “A baby blanket.” She looks up briefly, then back down to her work. My mouth goes dry.

  “Um ... uh, for who?” I stammer like an idiot, or a twelve-year-old boy who’s trying to hide something. She looks at me quizzically. Shit. Double shit!

  “Project Linus.” She looks back down and continues.

  “What’s that?” I relax.

  “It’s a nonprofit organization that provides handmade blankets for children, mostly critically ill ones.” She searches her knitting bag and retrieves a pamphlet, which she hands to me.

  “Wow, Auntie, I didn’t know you did this. What a fabulous thing to do! I’ve never even heard of it before.” It’s such a simple charity, but so meaningful. Maybe it’s because I’m about to become a father for the first time, but I feel so deeply touched by the idea of this charity. I watch my aunt knit, smiling at my comment, and suddenly I’m transported back to London.

  Every night, I’d practice piano and she would sit in the armchair near me, knitting and listening. I look over at the piano that’s now in the lounge. Hmm. I make my way over to it and sit dutifully. I begin to play one of my aunt’s all-time favorites.

  “I see trees of green ... red roses, too ...” I glance over at her as I begin to sing. A blanket of warmth comes over her face. She’s remembering. I continue on with the song—lose myself in it. I miss this great escape. It’s been a while since I’ve just sat at a piano. I feel like myself again.

  I finish the last chord and jump at the sudden applause. Turning, I find most of my security staff watching me. I’m a little embarrassed, but nod a little thanks toward them. Aunt Hazel holds up the key. I smile and go to retrieve it.

  She pulls back.

  “I always said you could charm the pants off a Royal Guard.” Her smile hits her eyes and I give her big kiss on the cheek.

  “Oh, I don’t know about that, Auntie. I’ve tried!” I grab the key and take off for Morgan’s room. I unlock the door and breathe deeply before I head in.

  The window shades darken the room, but I can still see. It smells of Morgan in here. Bubble gum and vanilla, her scent of choice for bodywash and shampoo. Becca is fast asleep, hugging Morgan’s pillow. I sit on the side and watch her. She looks so peaceful ... so beautiful. She jumps a little when I push her hair out of her face.

  “It’s me, sweetheart,” I say quietly, although I’m not quite sure she’d find comfort in that.

  “How did you ... ?”

  “Aunt Hazel gave me the key.” I answer before she finishes her question.

  “
Oh.” She sits up and starts to smooth out the sheet next to her, avoiding my eyes.

  “Erm ... so, I wanted to tell you that I got the information on Liz.” I grab her hand.

  “Oh?” She looks up at me.

  “Hi.” I smile and touch her face.

  “Liz?” She looks away. Damn it! Okay.

  “Well, she’s in Maine at a nursing and rehabilitation center.”

  “What? Why?” She jerks her head back to me to give her full attention.

  “She was involved in a terrible car accident a month after Annie was born. She was resuscitated, but her brain went too long without oxygen. She’s in a vegetative state.” I can see her mind is running seventy miles a minute.

  “Why wouldn’t ... why would Ray tell Annie she just up and left as if she didn’t want her? Why wouldn’t he tell her what happened, or at least lie and say that she died? He has Annie thinking her own mother didn’t want her! What the hell, Gray? Anything else? Who pays for her medical bills?”

  “He does, Bec.”

  “Are they actually divorced?” Her eyes are wide. I can’t help the twitch I feel in my jaw.

  “What the hell does it matter if they are divorced or not?”

  Becca rolls her eyes at me.

  “I’m just trying to understand what happened.” She’s irritated, and rightfully so.

  “Why does it matter? She’s alive and not buried in his backyard or anything.” I tread lightly. This apology is not working out quite like I thought it would. She’s too quiet. “I’ll set everything up for you and Aunt Hazel to go shopping tomorrow.” Oh, Christ! Why did I just play that card? I don’t want her to go out! Shit!

  “Never mind.” She pulls the covers back on the other side and climbs out.

  “No, sweetheart, it’s okay.” What am I saying? It most certainly is not okay!

  “Grayson, you have enough to worry about. Maybe I can send somebody to get what I need.” Becca Campbell is compromising with me? Even though I’ve behaved like a complete arse? I should feel relieved, but I’m actually uneasy.