Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
ELIZABETH
Secrets
Every noise from outside that I hear has my eyes darting to the window, thinking it’s Fallon, and I berate myself for the thousandth time for doing it.
It’s just lunch.
With Fallon.
But also…the idea of moving on.
With Fallon.
Needing to get a grip, I swipe my Kindle from the coffee table, curl up on the sofa, and scroll through the books in my library for something dark and smutty.
Marcus walks in and gives me a quick kiss on the top of the head. “Won’t be home until late.”
“Guys’ night?” I inquire. He, Knox, Tate, and a few of the guys from the garage often get together once a month for poker night.
“Date night.”
“Susan?”
They’ve had this on-again-off-again relationship for a year.
I don’t like her. She reminds me too much of Jacinda, but I’ve kept my mouth shut.
One thing I learned about being a parent is that if you tell your kid not to do something, they will do the opposite just to try and prove you wrong.
But if she hurts him in any way, the gloves come off.
Jingling his keys, he replies with a cheeky grin, “Hannah.”
Oh, thank god. Not Susan.
“Have fun.”
“I will,” he says, heading out.
Apparently, the revolving door of my life keeps turning when Charlotte peeks her head around the corner.
“Hey, Mom. Do you have a sec to talk?”
Please don’t let this be about her and Grant wanting to have sex.
I set my tablet aside. “I have all the time in the world for you.”
Charlotte’s face is sun-kissed from her morning spent in the backyard weeding the butterfly garden.
She loves being outdoors. Hiking, biking, rock climbing, you name it.
She is very much like Ryder in that way.
Adventurous and carefree. I was like that, too, once upon a time—when New Elizabeth emerged.
The girl with no memory, who had a blank slate at life to start over. I haven’t been that girl in years.
Charlotte tucks her legs under her when she sits down next to me. A few new angel kisses, as I call them, dot the bridge of her nose. When I first met Jayson and Julien, I used to tell them apart by how many freckles they had.
Folding her hands in her lap, Charlotte’s expression is thoughtful as she ponders what she wants to say.
Hailey was like that. She wanted her words to be just perfect and would think about things for a long time before she would speak.
I made sure that my children, especially Charlotte, grew up with a connection to their aunt.
Instead of reading them picture books and fairy tales when they were young, I would instead read them Hailey’s poems and short stories.
Charlotte glances down at my left hand and touches the wedding rings on my finger, swiveling them around a few times. “When did you know that Dad was the person you wanted to spend the rest of your life with?”
I send up a heartfelt thank you that it’s not about sex.
“We told you the story about how we first met in the third grade.”
Charlotte tips sideways and falls against the back cushions. “I really love that story. You and Daddy finding each other when you were both nine.”
True. But I was also in love with Jayson, too.
Growing up, our relationship dynamic was unusual and unconventional.
A girl in love with two boys. Even when I was with Jayson, I still loved Ryder.
Choices and consequences. It wasn’t until college that I finally figured out the woman I wanted to be and the man I wanted to be with.
And in doing so, I hurt the boy who had been my best friend since I was six years old.
I push a lock of her blonde hair behind her ear. Ryder used to call me his sunshine. When I look at Charlotte, I think the same thing. She is so intelligent and wonderful and kind and sweet.
“Are you thinking that Grant could be your forever?”
I want to remind her that she’s only fifteen. She has so much more life to live, and the things she wants now won’t be the things she’ll want in the future. But I can’t say it without sounding like a hypocrite. My heart fell in love with Ryder the first day I met him.
A listless shoulder shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe. You and Daddy were childhood soulmates. Maybe that’s what me and Grant are. But?—”
I wait her out when she goes quiet.
Picking at her cuticles, she eventually says, “Grant is a year and a half older than me. He’ll be a senior in August. He keeps making all these plans about me coming to UNC to be with him when I graduate.
He wants us to live together.” Suddenly filled with restless energy, she bounds off the couch and paces the floor in front of me.
“I don’t even know what I want for breakfast the next day.
How can I decide what I want two years from now? It’s just… ugh! ”
Her words hit me like a physical blow. What she’s going through is exactly what Jayson and I went through.
He was always making plans about our future without ever asking me what I wanted.
I became resentful that he took away my right to choose for myself.
He was so terrified that he would lose me that he tried to control every aspect of my life.
In the end, he wound up losing me anyway.
“It sounds like you’re not ready for the big stuff,” I reply.
And she shouldn’t be. Kids want to grow up so fast and become adults, and adults wish they could hit a rewind button and be kids again.
Ryder and I always told our children that it’s not about the destination but the journey to get there that matters.
Childhood is so brief in our path of life, so we wanted them to enjoy the years of carefree innocence as long as possible.
Unfortunately, losing their father changed that, and they had to grow up a lot sooner than we wanted them to.
She stops her back-and-forth and exhales a gust of breath.
“Yeah. And I don’t know how to tell him without hurting him.
He’s making all these plans for us, but I’m not there yet.
I want to go to college, but UNC isn’t my dream like it is his.
He knows I want to go to CU like you and Daddy and Marcus.
And I want to experience all the college stuff, like living in a dorm.
I don’t want my life already planned out for me without me having any choice about it. ”
I can’t let her go through what I did. She needs to be able to decide her own destiny and have the will to say no when what’s offered to her is not what she wants.
“You need to talk to Grant. Tell him exactly how you feel. Maybe he doesn’t realize that he’s pushing. But you need to be honest with him and give him a chance to understand your point of view. Relationships are about communication and trust. It’s a lot of hard work.”
“You and Dad always made it look easy.”
There are a lot of things that Ryder and I never told our children. Maybe it’s time for me to open up to Charlotte about what happened between Jayson and me so history doesn’t repeat itself with my daughter.
As hard as it will be to open those old wounds, I’ll do it for her.
“Baby girl, I’d like to talk to you about something.”
Just as I’m saying it, she stops me cold when she blurts, “Daddy told us that Fallon would come back one day, and when he did, he wanted you to fall in love again and be happy. He said he wanted you to be with Fallon.”
Christopher said almost the same thing this morning, and for Charlotte to say it as well raises all sorts of questions—and a few alarm bells.
Choices and consequences. Fallon suddenly showing up in Venice. Why do I have a feeling that fate isn’t the power manipulating my life right now?
With deliberate caution, I ask, “When did your dad tell you that?”
Charlotte’s face blanches white, and her eyes go saucer-wide, a metaphorical deer caught in headlights.
“He…uh…” She won’t look directly at me. She’s never been able to lie.
“Charlotte,” I say with my no-nonsense tone.
“Please, Mama, don’t make me tell you. You weren’t supposed to find out,” she pleads.
If it was about anything else, I wouldn’t pry because I would trust her to tell me the truth when she was ready.
But I can’t do that now.
“When did he tell you that?” I ask again.
A big, fat tear falls down her cheek. “He wrote us a letter.”
Us , meaning her, Christopher, and Marcus.
“What letter?”
Our heads turn toward the window at the same time when we hear the loud rumble of an engine coming up the drive. A Jeep pulls into the driveway, and Grant gets out.
Well, shit.
Standing up, I take Charlotte in my arms and wipe her face dry.
“Are you mad at me?” she asks in a tiny voice.
I don’t know what to be mad about since I haven’t read the letter Ryder wrote to them.
And I’m probably blowing this all out of proportion.
Ryder did a lot of things before he died.
Tried to prepare us for when he was gone.
He made videos for me to give our children on the day of every major life event: prom, graduation, their wedding day, the birth of their first child.
He wanted them to know that he was always there, right beside them, celebrating every milestone with them from heaven.
“No, sweetheart. I’m not mad. And please don’t worry. Go enjoy your day with Grant. And talk to him. Don’t put it off.”
With a small sniffle, a smile blossoms across her face. “Enjoy your lunch date with Uncle Fallon.”
Yep. Instant belly swoop.
“Just lunch. Nothing special.”
“Anything can be special if you let it,” she replies, wise beyond her years.
Grant does a quick knock before walking inside. He and Nicholas have keys to the house, just like Ryder, Jayson, Julien, and I did when we were younger.
“Living room,” I call out.
Grant rounds the corner, and before he can get out a hello, Charlotte launches herself into his arms. Thankfully, the PDA goes no further than a quick, chaste kiss.
“Hey, Auntie Liz.”
Grant’s face turns three shades brighter than a ripe tomato when he sees my amused grin.
If Ryder and Knox had a love child, Grant would be the result. Light brown eyes, thick, dark hair, and dimples that pop when he smiles, just like Ryder. Mocha skin, lanky, muscular build, and a confident swagger like Knox.
“What are you two up to today?” I ask.
They look at each other.
“What do you want to do?” he asks Charlotte.
“I don’t know. What do you want to do?” she asks him in return.
This could go on forever.
“Be home for dinner at seven. And I’m using the ‘royal we,’” I tell them, including Grant in the dinner summons.
“Yes, ma’am,” he replies.
“Bye, Mama!” Charlotte chirps, giggling, as Grant carries her out.
I follow them and wave goodbye from the porch. As soon as the Jeep backs out of the driveway, I close the door and do something I swore I would never in a million years do as a parent.
Invade my daughter’s privacy.
Going into Charlotte’s bedroom, I head straight for the small chest that she keeps under her bed.
And open a Pandora’s box of what the fuck .