Chapter 39
Chapter Thirty-Nine
GRACE
My body aches as I gradually regain consciousness. My limbs must weigh a hundred pounds. That’s what they feel like at least when I try, and fail, to move them. Oh, and to top off a brilliant start to the morning, my brain feels sluggish, like I’ve taken drugs or something.
I open one eye. Rain pelts the windows, peppering the glass in large globules. It takes a couple of seconds to orient myself, then the last two days come at me in a rush.
George and Alice coming into the store on Isla Oscura.
Calling Christian, with all the fear that entailed.
Him breaking into my hotel room.
The long flight home.
Jet lag. So, that’s why I feel lethargic and dopey.
My ears pick up on the steady breaths of someone lying beside me.
I risk turning my head in that direction.
Christian’s fast asleep, white sheets draped over his naked chest. My heart skips a few beats before settling back into a normal rhythm.
I have no recollections of him coming to bed last night.
Granted, I faceplanted on the bed and was asleep almost instantaneously.
I lift the sheet to see I’m still wearing the same clothes I traveled back in.
I’m not sure whether to be grateful Christian didn’t try to undress me, or offended.
There’s so much to discuss, and until we do, things will feel uncomfortable.
Clearing the air is the only way to move forward.
Whether that’s staying together or separating is anyone’s guess.
I know what I want, but I’m not in control of the outcome.
After climbing out of bed as quietly as I can to avoid waking him, I pad across the thickly-carpeted bedroom and slip inside the adjoining bathroom. Later on, I’ll let Arron know I’m back, but first, I owe Christian a full and frank confession, and he owes me the same.
I keep thinking about what he said to me on the phone before Daniel kidnapped him.
I hated the idea that those kids would think differently of their parents if they knew what really happened.
Today’s the day the year of hell comes to an end. Today’s the day I’ll find out the truth, and get to tell mine to the man I married under false pretenses, yet fell in love with anyway.
I use the toilet and wash my face, but it’s when I see my toothbrush right next to Christian’s that the tears rise. Despite how exhausted he must’ve been, and God only knows what time he got to bed, he bothered to unpack my toiletries before collapsing beside me.
Sometimes our beliefs steer us right, or at the very least, make us question and dig a little deeper. My beliefs, fueled by Daniel’s venom, blinded me to the truth of what Christian and this family are about.
Do they have a dark side? Yes, they do, but it comes from a place of love, of protection, of guarding fiercely what they care about, and refusing to engage in mindless tittle-tattle.
I went into this convinced that when they discovered my deception, I could very well end up dead.
Yet I didn’t hear a single word of recrimination from Charles or Alexander on the flight home.
Granted, I thought Alexander’s menacing scowl was aimed at me, but according to Christian, I was wrong.
And from the little he shared in the car on the way home, both Imogen and Vicky are supportive of me in spite of everything.
It’s more than I deserve, but I’ll take it.
Brushing my teeth is heavenly, as is standing under the powerful spray of piping hot water as I wash away the travel grime I was too tired to deal with last night.
When I emerge from the bathroom, with a fluffy towel wrapped around my body and another one on my head, I fully expect to find Christian awake.
Oh, he’s awake, except the bed is empty.
Frowning, I cross the bedroom and enter the living room.
That, too, is empty. An uncomfortable feeling blooms in my chest. Last night, he sounded as though he was open to giving our marriage a chance once everything is out in the open.
Perhaps whatever happened with his family last night has changed his mind.
Or maybe he slept on it, and when he woke, he thought better of it.
If that’s the case, why are the clothes Christian packed for me back on Isla Oscura neatly folded and put away in the giant walk-in wardrobe?
Too many questions and not enough answers.
Nothing can be done until Christian returns from wherever he is, so I swiftly dress in jeans and a jumper and, tipping my head upside down, blast my hair with the hairdryer.
Someone pinches my side.
Screaming, I drop the hairdryer on my foot.
“Ow.”
“Shit, sorry.” Christian picks up the dryer and switches it off. “Are you hurt?”
“You’re here.”
He puts the hairdryer on the dressing table and pats himself down. “Yep. Definitely me.”
“I mean… I came out of the bathroom, and you were gone.”
“I went to the kitchen to get breakfast for us. You must be starving. I know I am.”
My stomach chooses that moment to growl. “I could eat.”
“Good.” He slides his fingers through mine and saunters over to the dining table at the other end of the vast living room. The smell of bacon, eggs, sausages, and toast make my stomach emit another embarrassing grumble. He pulls out a chair for me. “Sit.”
“We should talk.” I slide onto the seat and shuffle it forward.
“We will. Food first, then we’ll talk.”
“Why do I get the feeling you’re procrastinating?”
He scoops scrambled eggs onto his plate from a serving dish in the center of the table. “Because I am.”
“Why?”
Sighing, he replaces the serving spoon in the dish and looks my way. “I’m not looking forward to hurting you, and what I have to say will.”
“About my parents?”
He nods. “Grace, please. Eat. You had nothing on the plane, which means it’s been more than twenty-four hours since you’ve eaten. I don’t want you getting sick on me. We have all day to talk. I’ve made it clear to the staff and my family that we’re to be left alone.”
“Okay.” I fill my plate and tuck in. “What happened last night after you left? Unless you don’t want to talk about that, either. I don’t mean to pry.”
“You’re not prying.” He swigs from a glass of juice. “He’s a sniveling, apologetic excuse of a man who denied knowing he was Xan’s biological father. He swore he had nothing to do with Xan and Annabel’s kidnapping all those years ago, nor Mum’s suicide.”
“You believe him?”
“Truthfully, I don’t know what to believe.”
“Where is he now?”
“As far as I know, in a room in the cellar beneath the house. Dad’s left Xan to decide what happens to him. He could be dead already.” He shrugs. “I can’t say I care either way. As long as my father and Xan come out the other side feeling as though justice has been served, that’s fine by me.”
“And what about Alice?”
“She had nothing to do with it. She’s spent her entire life terrified of him. Dad let her go home to the place she shared with him. Poor cow.”
I frown. “That’s odd.”
“What is?”
“Well, I know I only met them once, but when she came into the shop with him, she didn’t seem afraid of him at all. She was quite chatty.”
“How interesting. As long as I’ve known her, she’s always been the quiet, introverted one. A mouse who rarely dared speak up and let him do all the talking for her.”
“Sounds to me like she was under the thumb so much she suppressed her true personality. Maybe now she’s free of him, she can be herself. At least you know she was clueless about it all.”
“Yeah. She didn’t even know George back then. He met her after he fled the country, terrified Dad would find out what he’d done.”
“I wonder why he came back.”
“He said he was homesick.” He snorts. “All I know is that our lives fell apart when he came home. He can deny knowing about Xan and Annabel’s kidnapping and Mum’s death all he likes, but that’s one hell of a coincidence, don’t you think?”
“I agree. Unless he confesses, there’s not much you can do, though, is there?”
He gives me a crooked smile. “Oh, I don’t know about that. Xan can be quite persuasive when he wants to be.”
I shudder. Somehow, I don’t think he’s talking about negotiation techniques. More like torture techniques.
Breakfast doesn’t calm the nerves in my stomach, but it does stop the grumbling.
After we’ve eaten, Christian gathers the plates together and leaves them in the hallway, much as you might if you were in a hotel and had room service delivered.
I stay where I am, and when he returns, he holds out his hand to me.
I take it, wondering if he senses or feels the slight trembling I can’t seem to stop.
It’s not from fear, but from the emotions I expect to bombard me as I finally get to find out why my parents died.
Christian leads me to the couch, and when we sit, he keeps hold of my hand, his thumb brushing over my knuckles in soothing fashion.
“Shall I go first?”
I rub my lips together and nod. “Please. I need the truth.”
His nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath in.
“Nexus wasn’t the first time I’d worked with your parents.
I think it was our third or fourth project, but this one was by far the biggest. I remember your dad pitching for it, and I had my doubts he could pull off such a prestigious and complicated build.
In the end, though, he convinced me he had it handled.
At the time the build began, I was overwhelmed with several other projects, many of which were causing me headaches, so I pretty much left him and your mum to it.
” He pauses, his unwavering gaze locked on mine. “That was my biggest mistake.”
“Why?” I whisper, the single word almost sticking in my throat.