“I have my reasons. I do want to know what led you to the decision to do what you did. Please tell me. That’s all I ask, Ray.” I’m both relieved and mad at myself for finding it so easy to talk to him about this. He didn’t take my car without my permission—he took me without my permission! “What did you slip me?”
“Ecstasy,” he breathes.
“Now, why?” I shake my tears away.
“Becca, I have to spell it out for you, baby?” I can hear him trying to control his annoyance.
“No, I know I’ve strung you along. Not intentionally,” I add quickly.
“Yeah, babe, not intentionally. For over five years!” he almost yells.
“I’m sorry, Ray.” Wait ... why the fuck am I apologizing?
“Well, you paid for it, didn’t you?” A verbal slap.
“Ray!” I gasp, then start to cry. Who is this person?
“Becs ... Becs, stop crying, baby.” His voice softens. He sounds like my Ray again.
“What ... what brought you to ... ugh, Ray—you know what I’m asking.” I feel so defeated. I just want to understand. What was the straw?
“Yeah. I just don’t get the point, baby! It’s over and done with.”
“Because I want to know!”
“There’s nothing to know!” he yells back. “I slipped it into your drink, and as soon as I saw it was working, I took you home and fucked the shit out of you for hours! There’s nothing else to know!”
I pull the phone away from my ear. It is vibrating with his rage—I can only imagine what it would be like if he was right in front of me. I’m glad he’s not.
“That’s all it was to you? That’s all you wanted?” I swallow hard. I thought he loved me. I thought he wanted more.
“No, baby, I made love to you first. Oh God, you were so ... oh, I love you, Becca, I do. I’m sorry for what I did. I hope someday you will forgive me.” His voice is the one shaking now.
“You haven’t answered my question. Take the extra day to think about it. Pick Annie up on Sunday.” I slam the phone down.
The private line rings as soon as I sit back.
“Hello?” I sigh.
“Don’t hang up, baby. I’ll tell you what you want to know. Becca, I just ... I love you so much. I’m hurt and upset—I may yell and get impatient. Becs, are you there?” Now he’s the one who sounds defeated.
“Yes, I’m here.” I’m barely audible.
“Can I come over there and talk to you? I need to see your face, baby. Please.” His voice is thick with yearning.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Ray—for either of us.” I sit back and close my eyes.
“Because I’ll touch you ... because you’ll like it ... because you’ll hate that you like it? Some things never do change.” I sense his smile.
“Tell me everything that happened. Start from what made you decide to get one of those pills.” I decide to ignore his comment.
“Oh, there’s that convenient pretending. In Becca’s world, things aren’t said, kisses aren’t kissed, and touches aren’t touched. You are the queen of denial, baby.”
Butterflies erupt in the pit of my stomach.
“Ray, you called me back to tell me what I wanted to know. That is all I’m asking. If I was any other girl—you wouldn’t have it this easy.” I give him my best don’t fuck with me voice.
“Easy?” he questions flippantly. I await a comment about being a whore or something. “If you were any other woman, you’d have my fucking ring on your finger and we’d be on our third kid by now! Nothing with you has been easy, Becca!”
“Please stop yelling at me. Please, Ray, just tell me. I need to be able to work through what you did ... for Annie’s sake.”
“What the hell does Annie have to do with this?”
“Ray, I love her. She loves me. Morgan’s her best friend. I don’t want to lose her, too.” I can’t help it—I’m crying.
“You haven’t lost me, baby. I’m still yours. I’ll always be yours. Becca, I love you. I’ll wait for you to wake up and realize who you’re supposed to be with.” He’s reassuring me. He’s yelling at me. He’s trying to seduce me. He’s making me feel guilty. He’s doing everything but telling me what happened.
“Ray, please, sweetie. Please tell me. I need to know. Please, Raymond.” I speak as softly as I can.
“Oh, baby, you are so lucky I’m not there right now. You want to know everything, baby? I mean everything?” He’s calm. I need to keep him this way.
“Yes, please. Everything,” I emphasize. I hear him inhale deeply just as a text lights up my phone. Glad I put it on vibrate. I look at it.
December 22, 2012 9:15 p.m.
Gray: SWEETIE?! WTF, Becca? R U 4 real?!
“Shit! Hold on, Ray,” I say quickly.
“Why?”
“I spilled my coffee on my desk,” I lie. “Hold on.”
“Becca, are you alone right now?” He’s getting nervous, I think. Rightfully so—I am engaged to Grayson, who has brought stalking behavior to a whole other level!
“Yes, Ray, I am. Call Stacey and ask her to check if you don’t believe me!” I snap.
“Okay, baby, I just know how he is.” He sighs.
No ... you really don’t!
“Hold on, sweetie,” I say again.
“Okay, baby.”
December 22, 2012 9:18 p.m.
Me: Bait! Please trust me. Bear with me, baby, and later you can slap my ass ‘til it has more shades of red than inside a crayon box!
Gray: Don’t call him baby! I swear to Christ, Becca, your ass will be black and blue.
Me: I would never! Black and blue, huh? Ouch! Now let me get back. I love u. U r my world.
Gray: I’ve got my mental purple pants on!
Me: Mmm. I’m mentally pulling them off.
Gray: Looking for something incredible? :)
Me: Already found it! :) Love you!
Gray: Oh, Becs, baby :)
Me: Shh. Stop now! Love you!
Gray: XXXXX Love u 2!
“Becca?”
“Sorry, I’m such a klutz.” I sigh.
“Yeah, I know. I’m coming over. I don’t want to have this conversation over the phone, baby.”
“Oh, so you want to have it in front of security and Grayson instead?” I’m snarky. I can’t help it.
“Well, I don’t feel comfortable talking about it on the phone!”
“Ray, I already told you I’m not pressing charges.”
“Yeah, Becs, you also told me that you loved me!” he sneers.
“I do love you, Ray. I love you very much.” It’s the honest-to-God truth, and he knows it.
“I need to see your face. I want to touch you, yes, but I need to read your face, baby.” He sounds defeated again.
“We know each other well enough to know exactly what the other is doing. For instance, when you said that, you placed your head in your hand, fisted your hair, and pulled.” I take in a sharp breath, feeling overwhelmed by how well I know him—how much I’ve noticed.
“I’m not going to tell you who I got it from. I got it right after Christmas. I had it on me every time we went out, but I always found a reason not to use it. Mostly, I was afraid you’d either get hurt or find out and kick me to the curb.”
“Kick you to the curb? Now who’s stuck in the nineties?” I laugh.
“Baby, don’t interrupt me, or I’ll stop.”
“Okay. Sorry,” I say softly again, because it has always visibly stirred something in him when I do.
“The night of your birthday, you said you made sure you could sleep your hangover off if you got one. You had coverage for Morgan and the inn the next morning. You wanted to stay out late and forget your age. Forget all your worries. I cleared my schedule for the next day. I still wasn’t sure if I was going to go through with it. We were having such a great time. It’s funny ... you get a few drinks in you and you forget to pretend. You have to remember some of it, Becca.
Don’t you remember us dancing and kissing? That happened well before I slipped the pill into your drink.” He waits.
“Ray, I don’t know why I’ve been blocking stuff out. I’m putting a call into Patricia after Christmas. It’s actually scaring me.”
“So, you’re really not pretending? You don’t remember?” He sounds miffed.
“I don’t remember kissing you on my birthday. No ... wait a minute. Was everybody chanting for us to kiss after we sang?”
“‘Don’t You Wanna Stay’ by Kelly Clarkson and Jason Aldean. Yes, we gave them a lot of reason to. You remember, baby?”
“Yes.” My voice shakes. This is really freaking me out.
“After that, we couldn’t stop kissing. I thought, Oh God, finally ... she’s ready to be mine. I was so happy. Then somebody said what a cute couple we were, and you said, Oh, we’re just friends. All of a sudden it was like you put yourself on lockdown. You told me to stop kissing you, that people were getting the wrong idea. I saw red, baby.” He takes in a deep breath.
“I’m sorry. I know I’ve done that to you a lot.” I shake my head—I’m such a jerk.
“Yeah, well, after I’m done telling you all this, we’re going to have a conversation about that!” he snaps. “So, I said fuck it! I got you another glass of wine and slipped it in and let it dissolve.”
“Ray, I had a lot of alcohol in me at that point. There could have been very serious repercussions for adding drugs to the mix!” My voice gets shakier the harder I try to control it.
“Baby, I only gave you half. I was worried about that, too. I wanted you in my bed, not dead.” He chuckles.
“You should write that in a poem to me,” I say sarcastically.
“Yeah, I will. So, do you want me to continue?”
“Yes.” My voice is soft.
“Um, so, typical Becca couldn’t leave a drop of wine in her glass! Don’t roll your eyes,” he says, and I giggle. “Stop biting your lip.”
“Yes, ba ... Ray.” Shit! My phone lights up. Grayson’s texted me a ton of symbols. I fan myself with a folder.
“After about fifteen minutes or so, you kept closing your eyes and biting your lip. Finally, I pulled your lip away from your teeth and you opened your eyes. I leaned in and kissed you. Your breathing was erratic and your eyes were shifting quickly back and forth. I asked you if you were ready to go home with me. You nodded. I said you were coming to my house—to my bed. You nodded again. I grabbed your hand and we left. I helped you into my truck and we kissed. I asked you if you were feeling all right. You said you were okay and just wanted to get back to my house. I said, Becs, I want to make love to you. You said, I want you too, baby. I need you. I think I floored it all the way home. I could barely concentrate on the road—you were all over me.”
“I called you baby?” My mouth just went dry.
“Yes. You called me baby a lot that night. You rarely call me that. It was nice.”
I look to my phone ... nothing. That’s not good.
“Um, so, we got to my house. Becca, are you crying, baby?” He stops.
“Yes.” Why lie?
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No, keep going.” I try to catch my breath.
“I carried you upstairs.”
“Why? Was I passed out?”
“No, baby. Once we got into the house, we threw our coats off and you jumped up on me, so I carried you up.”
“It’s disturbing that I don’t remember any of this.”
“Well, I don’t know what to tell you, babe.” He sighs.
“Why did you redress us? Why didn’t you just let me think I was a willing partner in all of this?” I don’t get it.
“Becs, we almost had sex several months before that and you wouldn’t talk to me for six months! I was pretty sure if you woke up naked next to me after drinking, we’d pretty much be on a permanent break!” He’s annoyed ... and right. I would’ve completely flipped. Then again, maybe not. I remember feeling sore the next day—and liking it, once I got over my initial anger. I was pretty sure Ray’s fingers had ventured down there, but I didn’t think he remembered or that it went further than that. I feel my face flush. I start fanning myself again. Why did I not remember all of this until today?
“Theme song, babe?” I hear him flicking through sports channels.
“No. What song could cover this mess?” I pick up my stapler and play with it.
“What mess, baby? You’re not referring to your birthday, I hope. That wasn’t a mess—that was hot. You were so hot, baby. I just wish it didn’t happen the way it did. It’s ridiculous that I had to drug you to get you to relax enough to act on your feelings.”
“Oh! Is that what you did, Ray? Helped me to relax enough to act on my feelings? You’re an asshole!” I slam my stapler down.
“Are you abusing your office supplies, baby?” He chuckles.
“Are you fucking watching hockey, Ray, while we’re having a serious conversation?” I yell.
“No.” I hear the TV go off.
“Liar! That’s all you are, Raymond, a fucking liar!” God, why can’t I go longer than ten minutes without crying?
“Liar, huh? Look in the fucking mirror, babe!” He’s getting angry, which means his eyes are turning a stormier color.
“What are you talking about?” I don’t lie. I’m terrible at it!
“You’ve been lying to me—and yourself—for five years!” He’s got his “sit and spin” expression on his face, I just know it!
“About what?”
“About your feelings for me! You love me, Becca!”
I move the phone away from my ear again.
“I said I love you. I haven’t denied it.” I speak softly, hoping to calm him down and save my eardrum.
“Really, babe? Really?”
“Yes, really, Ray. You know I do.”
“You don’t get what I mean. You love me more than a friend. You’ve been too afraid to act on it until recently, and that’s only because loving Grayson scared you more than loving me.” His voice is shaky. We sit in silence as I let his words marinate. “Are we going to fall asleep listening to each other breathe? We haven’t done that in a while, baby.” He’s calm now. He’s my Ray.
“I’m sorry, Ray. I’m sorry for both of us. I’m sorry I fought off my feelings for you. You were always more than enough. I need you to understand and know this. If I could go back in time, I’d tell myself to stop being an idiot, but I can’t. And everything happens for a reason.”
“Your nose is flaring, your eyes are turning emerald, and I just want to kiss you—like I always do when you’re crying, or getting ready to. I’m so in love with you, Becca. The past five years have been the happiest of my life. We had it all, baby. We just didn’t have it on paper, and we didn’t get to go home to it. That’s all. We had it everywhere else. I miss you. I miss us. I’m lost without you. My theme song ... ‘Who Knew’ by Pink. I’ve got to go, Becca. I’ll pick Annie up on Sunday after lunch. I love you, baby.”
I take in a shaky breath.
“I love you too, Ray.”
We hang up. I sit at my desk for another fifteen minutes and have a good cry.
I wipe my face and put on my mental big-girl pants. I have to go and face Grayson now. I really don’t know what to expect. It’s after ten already ... geez! I’ll check on the girls first.
I open the door to room 205. The TV and a small lamp are both on. There they are—Frick and Frack, asleep. They’re holding hands and their heads are leaning against each other’s. They’re just like sisters ... who look nothing alike except for eye color. I take a picture of them. I unblock Ray and text him the picture with Our Sleeping Beauties under it. I turn off the lamp, plug in the night-light, and turn the TV off. My phone pings.
December 22, 2012 10:33 p.m.
Ray: ‘Need You Now’—Lady Antebellum
Me: G’night. C U Sunday. BTW what does Annie want 4 Xmas?
Ray: Same thing as me.
Ray: YOU!
Me: Night
Ray: Love you, baby ... always.
I don’t answer—what is there left to say? I take in a deep breath and head into our room. Grayson is sitting up in bed, wearing nothing but PJ bottoms and his glasses. His back is against the headboard. He’s finishing a phone call.
“Hi.” I’m nervous. I can actually feel hives forming on my upper chest. He holds his hand out. I reach for it, but he smacks my hand away.
“Phone!” he snaps. I hand it to him. He fools around with it. My guess is that he’s re-blocking Ray. It’s tough being this brilliant. “Unblock him again and you will regret it! Do I make myself clear?” He sounds extremely British—extremely authoritative.
“Yes, baby.” I can’t argue any more tonight. I’m physically and mentally exhausted.
“I’ve drawn a bath for you. Not as hot as you like it because it’s not good for the baby, but I think it’s warm enough to relax you.” He picks up his latest financial novel. Ho ... hum ... snore!
“Is there a glass of wine with that bath?” I smile.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re pregnant. You think I’d encourage hurting my child?” He flips the page of his book with a gust of aggressive irritation.
“It was a joke, baby. Would you like to join me?” I sit down and rub his feet. He pulls them away.
“No, Becca, I don’t care to join you.”
I can’t help my frown. I thought women were supposed to be difficult, trying, and exhausting.
I head into the bathroom and peel myself out of my clothes. Ugh! This is not warm enough. I turn on the jets to hide the sound of the faucet as I run it and drain some of this water. I sit back and close my eyes.
“Here are your pajamas, Becca. What are you doing?” I open my eyes to find Grayson checking the water temperature with his hand. “Becca, this is too hot! You can’t have it over one-hundred degrees, sweetheart!” He turns the faucet off and sticks the tub thermometer in the water. I smile a little. He’s so cute. “No, no, Becca! You’ve got it at a hundred and one, love. Why can’t you just do as you are told?” He rubs his face.
“Come join me, Gracie.” I smile up at him.
“No, I’m going to bed.” He seems too calm.
Goodbye Secrets Page 17