Chapter 31
31
AURORA
With tears dripping down my face, I launch the box of letters and memories down the attic hatch and listen to the box fall to the floor. I follow after it, too pissed off to care about the gasps my mom releases when she sees the lies spilled all over the floor.
“Aura,” she whispers, squatting above a collection of torn-open letters.
“What the fuck is this, Mom?”
“It’s . . .” She trails off.
I spin to face her, my hands shaking as I grip my hips and gulp down breaths. “It’s what? Proof that you’ve been lying to me my entire life?”
“It’s not that simple.” She lifts a letter into her hands and stares down at it with a pain so sharp it makes me feel sick. “These letters are not important anymore. Either is the man they were addressed to.”
My laugh is vile to my own ears. “That’s not for you to decide. I deserved to know who my father was. I asked you! Over and over, I asked you, and you told me you didn’t know. You lied to my face for thirty years!”
She looks up at me, devastation dimming the usual glow in her eyes. “You were better off without him.”
“That wasn’t for you to decide. ”
“Wasn’t it? You’re my daughter, and I’ve been the one here raising you. Lee Rose is nothing to you or me.”
“It still wasn’t right to keep this from me. Just because I was happy with you as my mom doesn’t mean I shouldn’t have been given a choice in the matter. It’s different thinking you have no idea who he was. But now? You lied to my face.”
She shoots to her feet, anger mixing with the sadness. “You had a good childhood, didn’t you? I gave you everything I could. Was it not enough? Do you think it wouldn’t have been easier to try to find him again once you grew old enough to understand?”
“Don’t try to gaslight me right now, Mom. Of course I had a good childhood! This has nothing to do with that and all to do with the fact I could have had more. I could have—I could have experienced the same childhood as all of my friends,” I admit, feeling that realization like a knife to my gut.
All of the afternoons I spent at my friends’ houses, watching them joke around with their dads, or when I grew older and watched those same friends be walked down the aisle by them, knowing I’d never experience that. My stepdad is incredible, but it will never be the same. That soul-deep bond you’re supposed to share with your father is missing. I’ve never felt it, and now that I know that chance was ripped from me, the hole where it should be is gaping and bleeding, and I have no idea how to fill it again.
“I’m sorry for lying to you, Aurora. But I won’t apologize for keeping him a secret from you. Your father isn’t the man you want him to be, no matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise. From the letters you read, you know that I tried to get in contact with him. I wasn’t going to keep you apart. He forced my hand by ignoring my every attempt at contact, and as I’ve grown older and smarter and have lived a good life, I know that him not replying to my letters was the best thing that could have happened to the both of us.”
I shake my head, hurt creating a fog over my mind. “I want to know that for myself. I’m going to make that call on my own.”
Her eyes widen, glossing over. “Please don’t, Aura. You’re going to get hurt. He’s going to hurt you. ”
“Then he hurts me! You’ve done the same thing.”
“I may have hurt you, but I also hurt myself.”
I sniff, avoiding looking at her any longer. I’m hurt and pissed and sad. I’ve never liked secrets, and I’ve always hated lies. I’d rather the truth kill me than a lie give me false comfort.
Coughing to clear my throat, I ask, “Have you spoken to him since those letters?”
“No.”
“I’ve never heard of Cherry Peak.”
She nods, and I can see her pushing her hair back from the corner of my eye. “It’s south of Calgary. A town nestled in the Rocky Mountains.”
“I’ll leave as soon as I can.”
“Be sure you really want this before you ruin the life you’ve made here, Aurora. There’s no going back after this.”
“If I go to this town, is there anyone who I should know about? Any more surprises you’ve been keeping?”
The obvious shudder in her expression tells me her answer before she can speak. “Wanda Rose.”
“His . . . wife?”
“No. His daughter.”
“How do you know he has another daughter?” My words are wheezed, the air knocked clean from my lungs.
“He’s a public figure. His life has been shoved down my throat for decades.”
“She’s publicly known as his daughter, then?”
“Yes.”
I stare at the ceiling and blink back the tears I refuse to cry. If I thought knowing that he chose to ignore my existence hurt, finding out that he chose to have another daughter instead leaves me so devastated I grow numb.
The only thing on my mind as I turn and leave is that despite the pain in my chest, I know that I won’t ever be content again without knowing every little bit of my family’s past that’s been kept from me my entire life .
Starting with Wanda Rose.
Four days after our conversation with Eliza and Wade, Johnny waves off our Uber driver before meeting me on the curb. The weather is shit in Toronto today. Storm clouds rumble with thunder above us, and despite the umbrella I’m holding above our heads, the wind throws the rain in our faces.
“Is this one of your bad omens?” I ask him through my clacking teeth.
“It’s just the weather, darlin’.”
“Nothing is just something to you.”
His hand finds my back, giving it an upward stroke. “I left all that in Cherry Peak. The only thing I know here is that you’re going to be okay. Rainstorm or no. Okay?”
“I don’t believe you.”
He takes the umbrella from my hand and ushers us away from the curb. Traffic is crazy here, and for my first time in Toronto—Ontario in general—I would like to not get sprayed by muddy road water. Especially not when I put on my nicest pair of jeans and a soft pink blouse that I packed in my suitcase on a whim thinking I’d never wear but brought just in case. My appreciation for his small gestures of care grows before getting chomped on by the giant, fanged jaws of my fear.
The building behind us is massive. It has to be, considering Lee’s staying on the thirty-fifth floor. The penthouse, Wanda said. Of fucking course it is.
For the hundredth time since boarding the plane here, I swallow the vomit that tries to come up and curl my hands into fists in the pockets of my burrowed jacket. My fidgeting expels a cloud of Johnny’s cologne from the collar of it, and it’s almost as good as it is straight from his body.
Johnny tucks my hair behind my ear and smooths a finger along my jaw, staring down at me with an intensity that would have had me taking off in the opposite direction a month ago.
“We don’t have to do this, Rory. Nobody is going to force you to walk inside this building and see him. I sure as fuck won’t. But if you still want to, I’ll be right here with you until you tell me to get lost. If you want to leave right now, we can find a bakery, and I’ll order you as many cinnamon rolls as you want.”
He wiggles his eyebrows at the last part, yanking a laugh from deep within my chest.
“I’ve only told you about my love of cinnamon rolls once.”
It was a piece of information he learned two days ago when Eliza walked into the office during lunch with a tray full of warm, freshly baked ones with dripping cream cheese icing. I scarfed down two right then and there, and the both of them haven’t let me live it down since.
“Doesn’t matter. I listen to everything you say, especially when it comes to your favourite things. It was hard not to notice how much you love them when you had icing smeared all over your lips and were moaning up a storm.”
I shut my eyes and lean against his body, burying my face in the collar of his jacket. He cups the back of my head and scratches my scalp, holding me there.
“I need to call my mom,” I murmur before I can think better of it. The urge has been building for weeks but has grown worse over the past couple of days. Our lack of contact has been sitting on my conscience like a big fat reminder of how petty I can be when I’m upset. It’s a terrible feeling. “I should have called her a million times by now. We’ve never gone this long without speaking. I was . . . I was punishing her for keeping this all from me with the silent treatment.”
“Do you want to talk to her before we go in?”
I shake my head. “She’d tell me to turn around and go home. That I’m worth more than begging a man to care about me, father or not. I’d listen to her this time. ”
“She sounds like a smart woman,” he says gently, his blunt nails continuing to work my scalp.
“Do you think I should leave? Am I making a mistake here?”
“I think that you’ve already come this far and that you know exactly what you want from this conversation already. That’s going to keep you tough. You’re not going to allow him to stomp all over you. That’s not who you are, Rory. You don’t take shit from anyone. Your tenacity is one of the things I love most about you.”
Pressure builds behind my eyes as I nod, exhaling a month’s worth of fear into his chest. “You’re right. I’ve never begged anyone for anything in my life, let alone affection. I’m not going to start now.”
“That’s my girl.”
Tipping my head back, I find him already looking down at me, the soft blue of his eyes making my heart beat a bit too fast. It’s always like this when I’m around him. My skin prickles with his closeness, and my heartbeat takes off. It grows easier to smile and be myself. I feel like I can be proud of who I am, flaws and all, in a way that I could never accept before. It’s not that I need him to believe in myself, but maybe it’s that I want to more than I do without him.
Anti-social, nervous, blunt. They’re all qualities that I used to worry made me unlikable to people. They made me wonder if the reason I never had many friends or romantic relationships was because of things that I say or do. But now? Now, I don’t care if me being myself turns people off.
Johnny’s never judged me for who I am. Not once.
People you love are supposed to make you want to be the best version of yourself, right? I think that’s what this is.
I snap my eyes open. What the fuck? Love?
Blinking, I shove that to the back of my mind. The very, very, very back. Right now, that’s the last thing I need to be thinking about. I’m too damn emotional to be contemplating things like that .
“Should we do this?” I ask, peeling myself away from him.
I don’t go too far. I can’t seem to take another step back, and it has nothing to do with staying beneath the umbrella.
His eyes drift across my face before he nods, grabbing my hand and intertwining our fingers. I glance down at the hold, finding that I love the sight of our hands like this.
“Say the word at any time, and I’ll get you out of there,” he promises.
“I know you will.”
The apartment building is bougie enough to have its own set of security waiting beside a nose-in-the-air receptionist who scowls at the two of us when we walk in. I should have killed her with kindness, maybe a blindingly fake smile and wave, but Johnny swoops in before I have to.
With our hands still interlocked, he rests our umbrella against one of the main windows and tugs me along to the desk. Once we get close, he sweeps his eyes over the contents of the desk. “Good mornin’! Don’t you look radiant today despite the terrible weather.”
Radiant? I want to smack him upside the head for complimenting her but also laugh at how obviously he’s trying to win her favour.
The receptionist blinks twice at him before smiling slightly and tucking a brown curl behind her ear. “Good morning. The storm came out of nowhere, but hopefully, it won’t stay around for long.”
“You didn’t walk to work today, did you? We were going to walk, but after taking our new puppy out this morning and needing an emergency bath afterward, we chose against it this time,” he replies, looking back at me quickly, just long enough for the woman’s eyes to follow.
She takes me in with a frown, all of her previous pep washed away like the trash in the gutters outside.
Johnny pushes forward, undeterred. “You don’t happen to know if there’s a dog park nearby, do you? We’re here to meet a friend today, but we’ve been contemplating buying in the building for a few months now. Our goldendoodle is just five months old but such a sweetie.”
Goldendoodle? Dog park? I stifle my confusion behind a half-smile.
She looks at the picture on the desk before lifting her eyes back to him, and I take the opportunity to steal a glance at the two security guards watching us from beside the elevators. They’re the second line of defense after this woman. If we get past her in the first place.
“You have a goldendoodle? So do I! Mine is six months, and holy, they’re a handful. I don’t live in the area, but there is a park about four blocks away that I’ve ventured to a handful of times. It’s one of the less crowded ones and has a separate gated area for the smaller dogs,” she gushes, eyes wide and nearly fucking sparkling as she stares up at him.
“Fantastic! We’ll have to check it out,” Johnny says, those damn dimples of his popping as he tries to sway her further.
With a squeeze of my hand, he reminds me that this is his attempt at gaining us access upstairs, not anything more than that. I already knew that, but I still appreciate the clarity. Even if I’m still feeling incredibly jealous that she’s the recipient of his dimpled smile.
“Who are you here to see today? I’ll buzz you up, and hopefully, by the time you’re done, the rain will have stopped. A bit of sunshine would be nice today.”
Johnny leans one arm on the desk and turns his grin up a notch, confidence damn near leaking from every pore in his skin.
“Riley Rose, apartment 3503. We were just out for dinner last night with his daughter, Wanda, but Riley couldn’t make it and insisted we stop by today. It’s been a long time since we got the chance to make a trip in from Mississauga.”
The woman stops cold, eyes narrowing at the corners when they swing to me. Every second that she stares, I feel my neck grow hotter, sweat appearing at a too-quick pace. I can’t keep up my fake smile, letting it drop under the weight of her disbelief. It’s like every person in here knows who I am and wants to kick my ass out.
Johnny’s grip on my hand grows tighter, and I’m not sure if it’s out of support or if my palm is just so sweaty he can feel it slipping.
“I’ll need to call upstairs and get approval before buzzing you in,” she says, her tone flat. “What are your names?”
“Sure,” Johnny agrees. “Johnny Mitchell and Aurora Bennett.”
The two security guards have moved closer in the time we’ve been here, and one mutters something with a hand pressed to his ear. I’m prepared for the worst, my knowledge of how things work when it comes to celebrities lacking but not nothing. If these two men don’t work directly for Lee and his team, then they’re in contact with those who are. They’ve reported everything we’ve done and said since we’ve been down here to the people upstairs.
The receptionist lifts the landline on the desk and presses a series of numbers on the pad before lifting it to her ear. I turn away and tune out her words. With my back to everyone, I take a long inhale.
Johnny turns with me, ditching my hand to touch my back instead. He creates another barrier between me and them by shifting at my side. Despite how often I told myself that I was content on my own and only needed myself to be happy, it feels the complete opposite right now.
Johnny’s my lifeline in this mess, and I don’t think I could have done this—any of it—without him.
“Alright. You can go up,” the woman says.
I spin back around, focusing on masking the sheer disbelief I’m feeling. “Thank you.”
“Give your pup a belly rub from us,” Johnny says, guiding us past her desk to the elevator doors.
The guards keep their eyes on us as we pass them, but unlike every horror thought running through my head, they don’t yank us back and toss us on our asses in the rain.
Once we’ve stepped into the elevator and the doors close, Johnny presses the thirty-fifth floor and then moves right for me. He presses me against the mirrored wall and cups my cheeks in his strong hands, holding me. His eyes sear into mine, and a second later, I’m leaning up on my toes and kissing him. My eyes drift shut at the reassuring press of his lips. I let my worries go for this small moment, focusing only on him and me and the steady beat of my heart.
Reaching up, I run my fingers through his hair, completely unused to him not wearing his hat. The easy access is nice, but I’ve grown attached to the sight of it and his habit of flicking it up when he goes to kiss me. It’s a piece of him that I wish he hadn’t felt the need to forgo today.
“Never opt out of wearing your hat for me, Johnny,” I whisper into the kiss.
“This isn’t the place for it. You needed to be taken seriously.”
I pull back, our lips parting slowly. “And I wouldn’t have been if you wore your hat?”
“I doubt many ranchers own places in buildings like this.”
“Lee wears a cowboy hat, doesn’t he?”
He kisses my cheek before doing the same to the other. “I’m not like Lee, darlin’.”
I scoff. “That’s definitely not a bad thing.”
“No, it’s not. I’ll wear my hat for you next time, Rory.”
Dragging my fingers through his scalp one last time, I drop my hand. A giddy excitement blooms in my belly when I give his chest a shove.
“How else would I be able to place it on my head if you don’t bring it with you?”
I watch in real time as his pupils flare, brows lifting. “You do that in an elevator and I’m pulling the emergency stop button.”
“Mm, seems you missed a golden opportunity. ”
His chest heaves. “Did you ask one of the girls about what it means to put my hat on your head, baby?”
“Maybe.” I shrug, keeping my lips flat and straight.
“Maybe,” he repeats, his voice growing all deep and growly. “It’s typically bad manners to meet your girlfriend’s father with a hard-on.”
Feeling the pulse between my legs, I can’t help myself from palming said hard-on, drawing a groan from him.
“It’s a good thing he’s only a father in blood, then, isn’t it?” I ask with a flutter of my lashes.
“You’re goddamn trouble, Rory,” he mutters before stealing another kiss and lingering afterward, as if he can’t get himself to pull away.
Not until the elevator dings and the doors begin to slide open. Keeping his eyes on me, he turns to stand at my side, the promise of what’s to come once we’re finished here hanging heavy between us.
Once a long hallway with swirled carpet and sconces along the walls appears in front of us, I realize the next few minutes aren’t going to be exactly what I expected. In every scenario I played out in my head, I thought the doors would open to the inside of a glamorous penthouse and I’d find Lee standing a few feet away.
But instead, we step out of the elevator and wander down the hallway in search of the door marked with 3503. The longer we walk, the more apparent it becomes that this apartment building doesn’t have only one penthouse but three. And Lee’s? It’s the very last one.
The four guards standing in front of the door with their thick arms crossed and eyes tracking our every step make the gold-plated numbers on the door meaningless.
“Aurora Bennett?” one of them asks. Or demands, more like.
I nod. “Yes.”
Another guard touches the small black device in his ear and speaks in a low voice, not taking his eyes off us. My skin crawls with the distrust in their eyes.
“Wait there,” the first guy snaps.
As if I’d try to waltz past them.
Johnny tucks one of his hands into the front pocket of his jeans and nods before leaning back against the wall. He’s so nonchalant in front of these men while I stand frozen, focusing too hard on not puking.
Sensing that, he reaches a hand for me, and I stumble toward him. With a wince-like smile, I nod at the men.
It feels like hours that we wait there with not a single word spoken between any of the men or Johnny and me. I’ve contemplated ripping strands of my hair out by the time the guards move, clearing the way of the door.
When it opens, it isn’t Lee that greets us but the ice-chip eyes of a woman I’ve never seen before and wouldn’t mind never seeing again after this.
“I was wondering how long it would take for another Bennett woman to come sniffing around. Can’t say I was expecting you, though. Was your mother too busy to come?”