by J. A. Huss
Mr. Asher—Adam, for some reason I feel OK calling him that. Maybe because he’s a movie star and I’ve heard it so often—is talking in a booming voice as he leads an entourage of relatives towards the table.
Vaughn’s calming hand is on my back as he pulls out my chair. “Sit, princess. I’m right across from you, so don’t worry.”
I look up at his concerned expression and give him a smile. “I’m OK.” I sit as he pushes my chair in, and then I arrange my napkin on my lap.
“Yo, Grace!” Felicity calls as she enters. “I’m next to you, sister.” We are in the middle of the table, with Adam at the head to my right, and Mrs. Asher at the head to my left. Thankfully, Samantha is sitting on the other side of me, so I’m flanked by the only two people I really know here.
I love Mrs. Asher and her seating chart.
“Conner?” Vaughn says as his brother takes a seat across from Felicity. I watch my husband assess that situation. He’s in denial about this and I have to stifle a small chuckle. I’m not sure if Conner and Felicity are dating, per se, but they are definitely up to something. Vaughn’s eyes shift back and forth between the two as a waiter reaches behind him to take a crystal flute and fill it with champagne. “Is there something you’d like to tell me?”
“About what?” Conner is swiping his fingers across his smartphone, not even paying attention.
Vaughn opens his mouth to add something snide when Tray appears to his right. “What the fuck—”
“Vaughn,” his mother chastises.
“We’re dating, V,” Samantha says as she eyes her husband with a strained smile. Or maybe he is her ex-husband and they are going for a do-over? I’m not sure. But it’s none of my business. I heard Tray was the first link in the chain to getting me back, so I’m not upset with him at all.
The whole room is filled with talking and laughter as everyone settles into their places and then Adam taps his spoon on his water glass. “It’s been a blessed year for the Asher family. We’ve had two marriages, no deaths, and two new babies.”
The room goes quiet and everyone looks at me. No deaths and two new babies. I’m not sure that’s accurate, so I just sigh.
Adam clears his throat to ease the uncomfortable moment and bring everyone’s attention back to him. And then he smiles at the two women cuddling newborns. The men across from them beam proudly. I can only assume they are cousins of Vaughn’s.
I look away quickly and adjust the linen napkin on my lap one more time.
“And Grace,” Adam says, directing everyone’s attention back to me. My face gets hot and my nose starts to tingle. I don’t want to cry here. I seem to be extra sensitive to crying these days and I really don’t want to cry here.
“You are the perfect wife for my son. So strong and sweet. Intelligent and beautiful. We’re sorry we missed your wedding. Perhaps you will let us have a party for you when you’re feeling up to it?”
There’s a chorus of yeses from around the table and my eyes get teary. But then I look across the table at Vaughn and his smile gives me strength. “Thank you,” I manage. “I feel so lucky to be part of this…” And then it hits me what I’ve got here. “Family.” They all go quiet to see if I’ll say anything else. And I’m about to just shut up and let the moment pass when Vaughn seizes control.
“That’s what we are, Grace. And you’re part of it now. I know we’re crazy and we’re far from typical, but you’re stuck with us, sweets. Forever.” He raises his glass and waits for everyone to catch up with his toast. I raise mine too, as I stare into his blue eyes. “I love you, Mrs. Asher.”
Everyone cheers and clinks glasses at that and I raise my glass to my husband and mouth, “Thank you.”
The blessing is said and then the servers enter with plates of covered food. Conversation begins and we all settle in for the feast. Sam and Felicity chat with me. Vaughn is attentive and happy. Various aunts and uncles and cousins pepper me with tidbits of information about one another, trying for embarrassment.
And it all hits home.
I have a new family.
I will never forget my real parents or my brother. I will always be grateful and love the Chamberses for taking me in when I needed them most.
But it’s time to start my own family. And this is where it begins.
Chapter Fifteen
#ImInDenialAndIDontCare
“SO, Felicity,” I ask, once we are all settled in with dinner. “How’s school? I never see you anymore.”
“Oh, Felicity,” Grace says, putting a tentative hand on her shoulder. “You should just come home. I hate that you’re not there.”
Felicity gives her a tight smile, then looks at… Conner.
I look at Conner and catch him in a shrug.
What the fuck?
I’m about to open my mouth when Felicity beats me to it. “I’m good, ya know? Living here in the pool house. Working for Conner.”
“Wait, what? How did I not know you’re working for Conner?”
“Don’t be silly, V,” she laughs. “You know I’m working with Conner. We did Grace’s case together.”
“Yeah, but that was months ago.”
“She’s a good worker, V,” Conner says as he stuffs his face with turkey. “I loooove”—and he drags that word out for an unnecessarily long time—“having her around.” And then that asshole actually clicks his tongue and winks at her. At my Felicity!
I look over at her and… “Oh my God. Are you blushing, Felicity?”
She giggles nervously as she plays with her mashed potatoes. “No.”
Grace kicks me under the table, but when I look down, I can see Conner’s foot touching Felicity’s leg.
I turn my head to glare and he grins across the table at my daughter.
“That is so wrong. Conner, I fucking warned you,” I seethe into his ear to avoid a scene. “I asked you specifically if you were—”
“We’re not,” he says back, still keeping his voice low.
I breathe a sigh of relief.
“But we’re considering it.”
I drop my fork on my plate with a clang. “You are not. She’s your niece.”
Conner snorts. “She’s not my niece, you perv. She’s not even related by marriage.”
“Um,” Felicity says from across the table. “I’m right here.”
“Well,” Tray says next to me, “I think they are perfect together.”
“How the hell would you know?” I turn to ask him.
“We double-date all the time.”
“What? Since when? You’re not even part of this family.”
“Vaughn.” Sam’s foot finds my shin under the table as well. “Knock it off, you ass. He’s still my husband. Felicity and Conner have been dating for weeks. We go out every weekend. You’re the only one who doesn’t know.”
I look around and everyone is nodding. “I’m stunned. I’m at a loss for words. I’m—”
“In denial,” Grace says with a smug smile.
Everyone laughs and then they go back to eating.
“I’m glad you all think this is acceptable.”
“V, I’m almost twenty-one—”
“And he’s twenty-seven, Felicity!” Dear God, I might have to strangle my brother at Thanksgiving dinner.
“We’re just hanging out, anyway. No big deal.”
“No big—”
“Hey,” Samantha says loudly. “I’ve been hearing lots of rumors about the Black Bash this year. What’s going on there? Do you know?”
Fucking hell. I can’t get a break. “Don’t believe everything you hear.” I look over at Grace and she’s way too attentive.
“What’s the Black Bash?” she asks before I can think of some lifesaving interjection.
“Oh, you don’t want to know,” Sam laughs. “It’s a horrible tradition. Every Black Friday the tabloids throw a masquerade party. Everyone dresses in the theme and wears a mask so no one knows who shows up for this repulsive invasion of privacy.”
“What do they do?” my sweet princess asks with horror.
“It’s nothing, Grace.” I shoot Sam a glare that says shut the fuck up. But then Conner is talking on the other side of me.
“I hear they’ve got Sam’s video in one room.”
“I don’t care,” Sam says bravely. “Tray and I have talked about it. We’re making another video this Christmas Eve. To finish what we started last year. Let them show it to whoever they want. My secret is out and I’ve come to accept my condition for what it is. A challenge to be overcome, not a disability to be afraid of. They have no power over me now.”
I love my sister.
“Were you invited, Vaughn?” Felicity asks.
I shake my head no. “I would never go see that filth. Even in disguise.”
I look over at Grace, but her gaze is difficult to read. I take that as disinterest and quickly move the conversation into neutral territory so everyone will drop the talk of the Black Bash. But my mind is not at ease. That party is tomorrow night. And I’ve already been warned several times that there’s something big brewing.
I swallow down the guilt for my actions all those years ago and put on my stage smile.
I’m an actor. It’s what I do.
So I act happy.
We finish dinner and take dessert outside in the children’s tent so we can watch the annual family talent show. Grace sits in my lap, her head on my chest as countless nieces and nephews play instruments, sing songs, act out parts of their favorite TV shows, and generally act silly.
The servers come around with more coffee and I lean into Grace’s ear to ask if she’d like more, but her breathing is deep and even. She fell asleep.
I scoop her up in my arms, say goodbye to my mother and aunts as I pass, and then get her in the car before she ever wakes up.
“What’s happening?” she asks as I pull the seatbelt across her lap.
“Time for bed, princess.” I shut her door and walk around to my side and get in.
“But I never said thank you.”
“You don’t have to, Grace.” I stroke my hand down her cheek and she closes her eyes automatically. “It’s Thanksgiving. Everyone is thankful.”
She falls back asleep before we make it out of the driveway and when we get home, it is my pleasure to strip off all her clothes and tuck her into bed next to me.
She stirs a little when I pull her close so she can rest her head on my chest. “You know what I’m really thankful for, Asher?”
God, I love when she calls me Asher these days. I used to think she said it to be mean, but that’s not why. She calls me Asher because she can. No one else, anywhere, calls me Asher. To my face, at least. Only Grace knows me well enough to use that moniker.
“Me, of course.” I play with her.
“Yes, you,” she says in her I’m-almost-asleep voice. “And I’m thankful for second chances.”
“Yeah.” I laugh under my breath. “I’ve certainly needed my share of those.”
She sits up a little and she’s more awake now. “I’ve learned something very important since all this crazy stuff happened.”
“What’s that, babe?”
“You don’t always get it right the first time.”
I stare at her eyes as they pool with tears and my heart feels like it might crack in half, that’s how much it hurts me to see her sadness. So many things went wrong this year for her. The kidnapping. The miscarriage. The media discovering her alias. Which one is she thinking of now?
I scoot down under the covers with her and hold her closer. “If I had known he would take you that night, Grace—”
“That’s not it, Vaughn. I actually think that do-over was… cathartic. In a way,” she adds hastily. “I mean, I don’t want to ever repeat it again. But it helped me confront so many things that I was hiding from all these years. No, the do-over I need is our marriage.”
I stop breathing. What does that mean? She stays quiet, like I’m expected to say something. I think it through for a few moments and then give it my best shot. “I can’t tell you what happened, Grace.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Won’t. I explained the other night. It was perfect. It can’t be explained with words. Maybe if we had a video, but not with words.”
“But you still want to get married again?”
“Do you?”
“I asked you first.”
I huff out some air because I want to be truthful with her. But how will she take it? “I wouldn’t mind a party, like my father offered. That would be nice. And I was thinking that a new ceremony would be nice. Make it a huge affair. With hundreds of guests and a new dress. The works. But I’ve changed my mind.” I look over at her and she’s stunned. Her eyes are wide and her mouth is open. “I’m sorry, sweets. I don’t want a new ceremony. It was perfect the first time and I’m sorry you missed it.”
Chapter Sixteen
#ANewHope
WHEN I wake up I’m still reeling from Vaughn’s admission last night. He does not want to marry me again. He has not even given me a ring. After all these months, I have no ring. What does this mean?
I roll over, ready to wake his ass up so I can ask him, but the bed is empty.
I sit up. “Vaughn?”
“In here, babe.” He comes out of his closet buttoning up his shirtsleeves.
“Where are you going?”
He walks over and leans down to kiss my cheek. “Work. We have a few scenes to get done today. We’re behind schedule, so we have to make it up. But after today, I’m all yours for two days.” He grins at me like this is acceptable.
“But it’s a holiday.”
“Yeah, Black Friday doesn’t really count, sweets. I’ll probably be very late, so don’t wait up.”
And then he grabs his watch and wallet off his dresser and walks out.
Black Friday is the day of the Black Bash. And he said don’t wait up? He’s never said that to me before. I wait until I hear his Porsche roar to life in the garage and then get up and run down the hallway to check and make sure he’s gone.
I open the door that leads to the garage and peek in.
Yup. Gone. Just like that I’m left at home alone all day.
I slam the door closed. Asshole. I should get my credit card and go shopping on Rodeo Drive, that’s what I should do. Spend all his money.
I walk back to the living room and spy the door to Asher’s office cracked open with the light on. I push it open all the way and realize he was in here this morning. What time did he get up? I didn’t even hear him, I was dead-ass tired.
I walk around to his desk and take a seat, then flick the mouse until the monitor comes on.
His calendar. Hmm. Attached to a Gmail account I don’t recognize. Double hmmm.
I knew that account with five messages from Larry was not his real email. But why is he hiding this one?
Grace, the gracious inner-me scolds. Since when does he have to declare email accounts? I mean, I have several email accounts. That’s just what happens as you grow up. You make one, then another, then another. And pretty soon, you’ve got a collection of them.
This one references his years as the Disney sitcom star.
Triple hmmmm. In fact, red flags are going up all over the place. I scroll through the from column and it does not take me long to realize this email is pretty much a private one he only shares with Valencia. His co-star from back in the day and his co-star right now for IM3.
I open up the most recent one.
“Your wish is my command,” is all it says. There’s two attachments. One is a picture of the two of them as teenagers dressed up as genies for… something. Halloween? A special show? I have no idea.
But the other one is a forwarded message. Subject line: Invitation Plus One Black Bash
She got them tickets to the Black Bash. The very party he said he’d never attend just yesterday. And the ‘your wish is my command’ makes it painfully obvious that he was the o
ne who approached her about attending.
Dammit. Vaughn is hiding something from me and it definitely has to do with this party tonight.
I walk out of his office and head straight for the coffee. While it brews, I stew in my own anger. It’s bubbling up around me. Why am I so angry about this? Mostly it’s because I feel left out. I feel like he’s got another life without me. Like when he goes to work, he forgets all about what’s waiting here for him at home.
I sit at the kitchen island bar drinking cup after cup of coffee as I think about this. What should I do? Should I ignore it and let him go to the party and then confront him about it when he gets home? Should I go down to the studio and make sure everything is on the up and up with him and Valencia? Should I use his ticket that Larry sent to go to the Black Bash and figure it out for myself?
My phone rings, startling me out of my introspection, and when I look up at the stove for the time, I realize it’s already past noon. I’ve been sitting here for hours.
The phone rings again, so I reach for it and press accept before looking at the caller. “Hello.”
“Grace,” Kristi says, all out of breath on the other line.
“Kristi! Oh my God, I’m so happy to hear from you! You sound like you’re panting.”
“Well,” she says with a smile—I can totally see that smile—“I’m all out of breath because they just brought me my beautiful baby girl and I’m so excited, I can’t stop my happy cry. And the minute I was able to think, I thought to myself, ‘I need to tell Grace. She’s the best friend I have these days and I need to tell Grace.’”
“Awww.” God, I feel so selfish and awful. I haven’t thought about Kristi in weeks. “I should’ve been there. Do you want me to come now? I can help you out at home if you want.”
The baby makes a little noise and Kristi actually sighs with contentment. I get a stabbing pain of jealousy straight through my heart.
“No, no, no,” she says quickly. “You just stay home and take care of yourself, Kinsella. Or should I call you Asher now?”