by Celeste, B.
The Truth About Us
B. Celeste
Contents
Playlist
Prologue
One Year Later
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
Epilogue #2
Also by B. Celeste
About the Author
This Book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, duplicated, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
The Truth about Us
Copyright © 2019 by B. Celeste
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover Artist: RBA Designs
Published by: B. Celeste
Formatting: Micalea Smeltzer
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the author.
Playlist
“I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing” – Aerosmith
“Perfect” – Ed Sheeran
“Lover” – Taylor Swift
“From the Ground Up” – Dan + Shay
“Team” – Noah Cyrus & Max
“A Thousand Years” – Christina Perri
“You Are the Reason” – Calum Scott
“Amazed” – Lonestar
“You and Me” – Lifehouse
“Speechless” – Dan + Shay
To everyone who loved Charlie and Ollie –
This is for you
Prologue
Charlie / 25
A single sound can tilt the axis your entire world rests on in a second flat. That same sound drowns out all the others surrounding you—the mechanical beeping of new-age technology, the nurses shuffling around the room, and the doctor speaking his congratulations at the tiny squirming bundle in his arms.
Then reality takes over, and you realize there’s nothing you can do to protect them from the world you’ve brought them into. First-hand experience tells me anything can happen the moment you take your first breath. Deep down, as the beautiful baby boy is set in my waiting arms, I know I would give my life for him.
My husband leans forward, letting a tear drop from the tip of his nose down to the newborn’s head. “He’s beautiful, Charlie. He’s…” Oliver James chokes on emotion, gripping my arm and shaking his head as he examines the warm-blooded creation mixed of our DNA that shouldn’t morally exist if we’d followed the rules.
I stare so intently, yet so absently, at the being I’ve loved so wholeheartedly for just over nine months. He moves and makes the softest wail that sounds nothing like I’ve ever heard.
And I know.
I know that everything has changed.
One of the white-haired nurses walks over and smiles at the sight of us. “We need to clean him and take him for some basic tests.”
Instantly, my heart thunders and arms cradle him closer to my bare breasts. Ollie’s hand caresses the back of Milo’s head before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the side of my sweaty temple.
“We’ll bring him right back,” the nurse promises, her eyes kind but not fully trustworthy. Her position should have told me to just loosen my grip and let them do what they needed.
It’s Ollie’s reassurance that has me slowly nodding and exhaling a pained breath. “I know, Charlie. But they need to do their job.”
Swallowing is nearly impossible as I manage to let the nurse take him from me. Her lean figure becomes blurry as I stare at the two of them, my chest rising and falling heavily while Ollie coaxes me into trying to take a deep breath.
“Milo.” My voice cracks as my hand flies to my husband’s arm. “You need to go with him, Ollie. Please? I can’t protect him.”
The heart monitor goes off in rapid commotion, causing one of the other nurses to turn her focus on me. Ollie’s conflicted gaze darts between me and our son, worry etched into his features that pull him in both directions.
“Please,” I beg, letting tears fall from emotion I can’t control. There’s a gaping hole in my heart that appeared as soon as I delivered the final push. I feel too much. I feel nothing. There’s no balance between the two extremes.
“Honey, I need you to try calming down,” the dark-skinned nurse instructs, gently placing her hand on mine. “Milo is going to be just fine.”
My eyes stray to Ollie’s before mouthing, please? The last time I begged so brokenly was under far darker circumstances. My mind locked away those memories behind cast iron bars that took years of therapy to find a key to. The feeling is so similar, so heavy and raw on the soul I no longer feel as though I carry fully. Part of it is in the flesh with dark eyes staring back at me.
Ollie dips down again and lingers a kiss on the top of my head, giving my hand a squeeze. He follows the nurse carrying Milo out, leaving me hyperventilating on the bed of damp and bloody sheets until the machines ring noisily around me.
“Charlie,” the doctor instructs, coming into the hazy view of my vision. His dark hair is peppered with gray and white and the wrinkles by his aged eyes become more predominate as concern washes over his face. “Can you hear me, Charlie?”
A hand touches mine, then another reaches for my face. People talk and call my name, but I don’t fully hear them past the racing of my heart and the ringing in my ears. I want Milo and Ollie and a sense of peace that seem so far out of reach.
“She’s in shock,” someone states from close by, causing rushed murmurs around the room of staff still littering the small area.
Is that what I am? Shocked. Subconsciously, there’s a maternal need to get out of bed and hunt down my son. The physical and mental opposition to that keeps me planted in bed, dazed from the people around me.
I blink and the doctor is there.
I blink again and the nurses are there.
But Milo isn’t. My sweet, innocent Milo is in a world that is full of corruption I know all too well. Despite the firm belief that Ollie will be the perfect father, better than one could ever truly want, it doesn’t stop my mind from swelling with the unknown what ifs thrown into the mixture.
It’s a gut feeling that something is wrong, like his reactions to people weren’t quite right. Perhaps if the nurse hadn’t shared a microscopic look with the doctor as if they saw the same thing, I wouldn’t race to a conclusion nobody but they would know with time.
The feeling remains. My body aches with awareness and pain and something so deeply woven into my bones that I fear I’m broken far worse than I was by my past.
I love Milo, that much I know.
But there’s another overwhelming feeling that detaches me from the other swirling emotions trying to fill the hole in my chest. As though the cement is the concern rather than the pure love that I know is stitching together the wound caused by something beyond me. Something I want to go away.
I acknowledge that something is wrong with the way my mind and heart react to the very moment in my life I’ve both been dreading and looking forward to for the past few months. My senses become hyperaware of the people asking me questions and the mach
ines easing their high-pitched reactions to my resting body. Dr. Rosehill praises me and pats my hand, and the nurses share a look of relief as they continue cleaning the room and telling me the next steps.
I count the minutes that drag on, my eyes never straying from the open door to the right, waiting for the moment I see a blue blanket wrapped around the boy I’ve been dying to meet for far too long. What I don’t expect is the presence of an empty-handed man who put a second ring on my finger in an intimate ceremony just months after asking me to marry him.
“He’s getting more tests done,” he assures as soon as he meets my bleak eyes. The way he kneels by my bed and takes my hand confirms what I’ve suspected. But it’s the way he smiles as if everything is okay that sets me off, because I know what Ollie looks like when he’s happy, in love, or any array of emotions that offers a genuine quirk to his lips.
This one is distant and pained and worried. A look he gave me when we visited Bridgeport, and everyone stared at our hands clasped in one another’s. The fourteen-year age difference seems like nothing compared to the weight dawning his chocolate eyes.
“Oliver,” I whisper, swallowing what feels like rusty nails and dirty water.
Her fingers weave in mine. “Milo is healthy, Charlie. He’s healthy and he’s going to be okay. But…”
I blink.
I wait.
I hold my breath.
“He failed his hearing test, baby.”
Staring at him like I don’t understand, my lips part with an uneven exhale. But the signs build in the back of my consciousness that tell me I told you so—the anxiety-ridden moments that perhaps something was wrong when I’d play the piano or sing and feel no movement in response. It left us with piles of bills from emergency room visits for ultrasounds and explanations. Then I’d hear a heartbeat and feel the tiniest little kick and know that everything is okay.
“But he’s healthy,” he repeats, nodding encouragingly as I wrap my head around the news. Ollie is good like that. He gives me time and space, but not too much of either. We’ve always functioned better as a team. Ollie and Charlie against the world. And too often, it felt just like that.
Because the world is a cruel place with judgements thrown over the unconventional dynamics between our circumstances. How we met and how we loved and how easily it was too fall into the forbidden.
Our love is unforgiving though.
Just like it is with Milo.
“He’s healthy,” I say slowly, finding my voice and tightening my hold on him. “He’s really okay, Ollie?”
Ollie’s brown eyes glaze with oncoming tears that don’t make it past his thick lashes. “Our son is more than that, Charlie. He’s fucking perfect. God, he’s everything and more.”
And the tears that I’ve saved for this very moment spill from my own eyes and drown my flushed cheeks. The months of discomfort, hours of pushing, and pain I’ve already forgotten about were all worth the news delivered to me.
We hold each other and cry and smile and breathe a sigh of relief that we’ve welcomed something so pure into the world we’ve created for ourselves despite the whispers and stares.
Milo Brahm James.
One Year Later
Chapter One
Ollie
The smooth melody of caressed ivory slows with each note nearing its end as I quietly close the door. I hear the piano first, then the sultry voice accompanying the tune of a soft sung lullaby. A smile can’t help but form at the corners of my lips as I make my way down the hall to our makeshift music room that Charlie has music therapy lessons in.
Pressing my back against the wall just outside the open door, I close my eyes and listen to Charlie sing to our son. I know he’s watching her in fascination and love, with a dopey look on his mesmerized face. They do this every day like clockwork. Charlie never lets Milo’s condition waver her determination to introduce music into his life.
Music therapy is her passion outside of motherhood, and she’s blended the two in a song of its own at home. When I watch them after work every night, I notice how Milo’s tiny hands press against the piano just like Charlie taught him to. I mimicked him once, feeling the vibration of each note ricochet through my body like a silent song.
“I know you’re out there,” she accuses. The music stops abruptly. I round the corner and smile at her waiting form on the bench—her blonde hair in a messy bun and her face without a stitch of makeup.
Kissing her lips, I bend down and pick up Milo. The grin on his chubby face as he palms my cheeks fills my chest with the purest level of happiness I’ve ever had the pleasure of experiencing. “Hey, buddy. Have a good day with Mommy?”
Charlie swings her legs to the opposite side of the bench and watches us. “We saw River today. She brought Lucas and Maddie with her for a playdate.”
My lips twitch upward at the news of my sister’s visit. Her first biological kid, Luke, is great with Milo. But Maddie doesn’t understand that he can’t hear her and takes it personally when he doesn’t react. The difference in patience between them always makes me nervous when I see Maddie throw a fit and Milo stare absently wondering what he did wrong.
Milo blows drool-ridden bubbles at me as I bounce him in my arms, making me chuckle and kiss his cheek until his hands grab a fistful of my hair and yanks. Wincing at the pain, I detach his oddly strong hold and wiggle his hand at Charlie. Her gem-like green eyes are bright as she watches us contently, her elbow resting on the covered piano keys behind her.
She reaches up and tickles Milo’s socked feet, making him smile and squirm at her until his arms stretch in her direction. As I deposit him in her waiting arms, I ask, “How are River and the kids doing?”
Milo latches onto the collar of Charlie’s shirt, pulling it so the peaks of her perky breasts tease my vision. She lets him play, bouncing her knees as she focuses on me. “Luke advanced another reading level in school. River thinks if he keeps it up, he may skip a grade when he’s older. Maddie lost her first tooth and tried convincing Everett that the tooth fairy gives kids five dollars a tooth now.”
I laugh, shaking my head at the tenacious five-year-old’s logic. Maddie has never wanted anything less than what she thinks she deserves. I remember River admitting how bad the terrible twos were, which then extended into the threes. The word “no” is Maddie’s least favorite to hear, and she made it known whenever it was spoken. It doesn’t help that she’s got Everett wrapped around her finger. He tries playing the bad guy, but all it takes is Maddie looking up with those mint puppy dog eyes before he’s gone.
I bet she’ll get ten dollars from him.
“You’d be no different,” she insists, standing with Milo perched on her side. We walk out of the music room and into the kitchen, where I grab a bottle from the fridge and prepare it for Milo while Charlie takes a seat at the table.
“I’m not denying it.” Once I’m done, I walk over and pass her the bottle to give to him. He takes it greedily, latching on with both his hands and glancing back at both of us.
The blond hair he gets from Charlie has gotten thicker. His first haircut was a couple months ago, and Charlie teared up when the first strand hit the floor. I collected a chunk and saved it for the scrapbook she started, which is already half full of memorabilia and photographs from the past fourteen months.
Clearing my throat, I walk back around the island and busy myself with getting dinner ready. “And Everett? Did she mention how he’s been doing?”
Everett Tucker, my oldest childhood friend, and I have our issues. I’ve taken responsibility for my contribution from the tension that’s still buried under certain topics, but we’ve worked past most of the problems as the years pass. He’ll never fully forgive me for going after Charlie when she was underage, but on the off days he’s reminded of our fourteen-year age difference, he doesn’t bring it up. It doesn’t stop the familiar darkening of his eyes when he watches Charlie and I interact—especially with Milo in the picture.
; Charlie understands my hesitation in bringing him up. We’ve both experienced ups and downs since choosing to make our relationship work. She loves Everett and River and wants their approval and love no matter what. I can tell the rift between Rhett and I bothers her, but it’s nowhere near as tense as it used to be. All of us have conversations like adults catching up, and most of the time there’s no awkwardness. But there’s always a reminder of the choices we made that brings back the thick silence of a conversation everyone does their best to avoid, especially when my parents are involved.
Bridgette and Robert James, though skeptical and disapproving of my decision to pursue Charlie, support our relationship. Maybe if it wasn’t really love they would have both tried harder to get me to see reason. But reason was out the door with Charlie from the start. It didn’t matter that Everett and River brought her into my life, she felt like mine from the start.
My friend.
My family.
More.
“He’s been busy, as you can imagine.” A hint of humor sparks in her eyes. She finds my discomfort over asking about him amusing. I’m not sure she’ll ever fully understand my caution, but at least I can be entertaining. “There are other rival companies trying to get a buy-in that’s been cutting into his business, so he’s been stressed trying to balance everything. River didn’t say it outright, but I think it may be good if him and you did something together to get his mind off things. You know, like a bro date.”
I blink. “A bro date,” I repeat.
She simply nods, setting the bottle down on the table once Milo is finished and patting his back as he reaches for a loose piece of her hair that’s fallen from her updo. “Yeah, like a guy day. Maybe you guys can go grab a drink or, I don’t know, play basketball. You never do that anymore.”