The Secretive Wife (More Than a Wife Series Book 2)

by Jennifer Peel

  “Joan thinks we should sue them for invasion of privacy, but I’m not sure yet. I need the dust to settle first.”

  “All I know is it’s scared her enough to take the pictures down.”

  I sank back against the cushions. “Too bad the damage has already been done.”

  Sam leaned back next to me and rested her head on mine. “I don’t think those women or Ma had any idea what they were dealing with. Now they are all at each other’s throats.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Ma’s mad because she asked them to delete the photos and the other women are upset because Ma asked them to break into your attic in the first place.”

  “No one made them,” Avery commented.

  “You know how it goes,” Sam said. “It’s always easier to place the blame on someone else.”

  “Like Neil?” I responded.

  “Exactly like him. I can’t believe he showed up last night.” Sam was still seething over it.

  “The night was full of surprises.” Avery set her glass down and leaned back to join us. “What about Mimsy and her looovver?”

  Laughter erupted from us, but it was the kind born of trying not to cry over the entire situation.

  “Let’s just hope no one gets Mimsy in front of a camera,” said Sam.

  We groaned at the thought. There we were, the three of us sitting head-to-head and heart-to-heart, all wondering what kind of mess I had gotten us into.

  Avery giggled. “At least tell us Hunter and Laine end up together.”

  “I love you guys.” It felt good to say the sentiment I’d wanted to a hundred times. Even better was how is easy it came out.

  “We love you, too,” Sam responded. “But seriously, we need to know about Hunter and Laine.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “Are you watching this?” Joan’s tone bordered on amused and snarling pit bull.

  I curled against Peter on the couch, watching the TV with one eye open and my phone close to my ear so Joan didn’t burn a hole in Peter’s brain with her marvelous—teetering on scary—proficiency of the mother of all swear words. Our second worst fear happened. A local news station snagged an exclusive interview with the bling twins, otherwise known as Mimsy and Giovanni.

  Giovanni looked straight into the camera and flashed his dentures. “So, like I was saying, me and Autumn Moone go way back. I was just at a party last night at her house.” He wrapped his arm around Mimsy like a boa constrictor.

  I feared I gave Giovanni more reasons to lure Mimsy deeper into his web of deceit. His eyes were flashing dollar signs.

  “Is it true your grandson is married to Autumn Moone?” Serena Lively from Channel 4 asked.

  Mimsy adjusted herself so she sat taller. She looked ridiculous wearing a fake diamond necklace and a Cubs hat. I guessed I should be grateful she wasn’t wearing that red dress that made us all wish for a lobotomy.

  “Are you talking about Delanie?”

  The reporter looked at her notes. “Delanie Decker, yes.”

  Mimsy pressed her thin lips together—lips, I might add, that were covered in some awful shade of orange lipstick. “She’s the one all right. That Delilah used her ways and led my Peter astray from his true calling as a priest.”

  I dropped my phone and sprung up.

  “Oh, hell,” Joan yelled loud enough for both Peter and me to hear. “It’s going to really hit the fan now.”

  “Your grandson was a priest?” The reporter couldn’t have sounded more pleased, as if someone had given her the juiciest apple and she got to bite first. The figurative juice was dripping down her chin.

  “Such a good boy until that tattooed girl used her feminine ways on him. Now they are taking naked pictures of each other and selling drugs.”

  Joan spat out a laugh while Peter and I cringed.

  I put Joan on speaker. After Mimsy, I didn’t think anything she was going to say was going to be worse.

  Peter gripped my hand like a vice.

  “Now, now, Mims,” Giovanni cut in, “you must be confused. Peter and Delanie are our favorites.”

  Mimsy elbowed him. “Speak for yourself. I like Reed. He has a nice butt.”

  I covered my face with my hands. “I can’t take it anymore.”

  “Who’s Reed?” Serena asked, wanting another juicy bite.

  We didn’t get to hear the answer. Peter, in an act of mercy, turned off the TV and threw himself back against the couch cushion, scrubbing his hand over his face.

  I took his hand back, trying to lend him some comfort while I talked to Joan, who had also turned off the Looney Tunes.

  “Well, Peter, you have quite the family.” Joan wasn’t helping the situation any.

  Peter gripped my hand tighter without saying a word.

  “Tell us what Lucas said.” I held my breath.

  “Pack your bags, kid.”

  Peter sat up while I tried swallowing my heart back down. “They’re releasing me?”

  “Releasing you?” she cackled. “No, honey, they’re pulling you in and wrapping every tentacle around you they can.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means you’re coming to New York tomorrow and you’re going to find out what it’s like to be a real celebrity.”

  “No. Not happening.” I shook my head.

  “Listen, Del, interviews like your supposed family members just gave and the press knocking down your door and the doors of everyone you know isn’t going to stop until you give them what they want. You.”

  She was not exaggerating. Here’s another rule of life to live by: don’t taunt your neighbors about being a call girl. They will let reporters through the gates and tell those reporters that you aren’t all that friendly. I really needed to think of some new comebacks that didn’t paint me as a hooker or a centerfold. It’s caused me nothing but trouble and long lenses and people hiding behind our trees and bushes.

  “Besides, kid,” Joan continued, “if you want to save those millions for all your charities, LH Ink is demanding it. So, come to New York, smile pretty for the camera, be your charming yet smart-aleck self for interviews, and take advantage of all the free press. The world wants you, and LH Ink is going to take advantage of that and kindly forget you had an anonymity clause in your contract. You’re welcome.”

  Peter and I stared at one another, dazed and confused. A million unanswered thoughts reflected in our eyes.

  “Peter can come too,” Joan added in.

  Peter let out a breath that said it all. This sucked. “I can’t right now.” He rested his warm hand on my cheek. “I want to, but I need to stay here and help my family with our business. Our voice mail is full because of all the new inquiries we received today alone.”

  If even ten percent of them were legit calls, Decker and Sons Landscaping was going to have to hire a lot of new people to keep up. James was excited by the prospect.

  I placed my hand on top of Peter’s, never wavering my gaze from his. “What time tomorrow is my flight?” I resigned myself to my fate.

  “You should have an email, but I think mid-morning. You fly into JFK, and I like you so much I’ll even come pick you up. As an added bonus, you can stay with me.”

  “Okay,” I said without thinking.

  “Del, this is going to be okay. The vultures will quit circling after you feed them your carcass.”

  “Are you trying to cheer me up, Joan?”

  “I’m just giving it to you straight. Get some rest, make some love, because you’re going to need it. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Joan believed sex was the answer for everything. I wasn’t sure I could agree with her. Sometimes it caused more problems than it solved. She hung up without letting us say goodbye.

  Peter and I kept our staring contest up. It was a source of strength and comfort.

  A thought hit me while I peered into his deep green eyes. “We’ve never spent the night away from each other since we’ve been married.”

  “Do you want me to go
? I’ll go.”

  “Of course I want you to go, but you need to stay here to help James and your dad. I’ll slumber party it up with Joan.”

  Peter cracked a small smile. “I know how Joan parties, so don’t have too much fun.”

  “We could take her advice before I start packing, minus the getting rest part.” In this case sex couldn’t hurt.

  “I like the way you think.”

  “Peter.”

  “Yeah, baby.”

  “I like you.”

  He kissed my nose and let his forehead rest against mine. “I like you too.”

  “After all this, are you still happy you chased after me?”

  “Uh-huh.” He skimmed my lips.

  I breathed him in, trying to forget even for a second that I’d just been humiliated on TV or how much our lives had changed today. “I’m going to miss you.”

  “Not yet you aren’t.” He crushed his lips against mine, leaving no doubt how he felt about me or that we were a team.

  We could do this.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The thing I loved about big cities was that you could be as invisible as you wanted to be in them. It was one of the reasons I loved taking the bus into Portland so often growing up. It was the one place I felt like I belonged. Those streets owned me and protected me. They made me feel wanted and free. My parents had thought they were making me free, but I could always tell when my choices displeased them. When I didn’t give them the data points they were hoping for. It made me second-guess my choices or choose what I knew they wanted me to. Anything to make them happy. Anything to make them see me, claim me, and belong to me. Now the cities had turned their backs on me just like my parents. There was no more safety in the crowd. I became the bullseye in the middle of the target. I had become the reason for a crowd.

  It all started by being followed to the airport by two persistent men with cameras, giving Peter more concern for sending me to New York alone. I kept my hand on his tense thigh all the way to O’Hare as he weaved in and out of traffic trying to lose the men in the black car with tinted windows. For a moment, I thought he was going to swear. I always thought I would be happy to hear him be a normal human, but the man driving well over the speed limit, gripping the steering wheel, breathing heavily, was not Peter. It didn’t help when those two men rushed me as soon as I was out of the car. Peter placed himself and my luggage between me and the rather large men taking picture after picture. Thank goodness for airport cops. They don’t take kindly to people leaving their vehicles unattended. If they hadn’t intervened, I was afraid Peter was going to throw a punch.

  “I should go with you,” he breathed out, upset once the men were shown back to their car.

  I placed my hand on his warm red cheek. “I’ll be fine.”

  His right brow raised. “There’s that word ‘fine’ again.”

  I mustered a smile for him. “I meant to say fantastic.”

  His lip twitched. “I might have believed you, but you never use words like that.”

  “How about, I’ll survive? And I’ll bring you back a cheesy My Wife Went to NYC and All I Got Was This T-shirt shirt.”

  His genuine smile appeared. “Only if you promise to be the one who wears it.”

  I pressed a kiss to his lips. “Now you sound like my husband.”

  “Do you really think that’s her?” A voice caught our attention. We turned to find several cell phones pointed at us.

  “I hate this,” Peter whispered.

  I did too. More for him than me. Peter didn’t use words like hate. But I was determined to be me and not Autumn. And Delanie wouldn’t miss the opportunity to kiss her husband goodbye. I pulled on Peter’s shirt and yanked him toward me. “Let’s give them what they want.”

  His eyes widened before my lips collided with his. This was no peck on the lips. This was a, I’m going to miss you, soul reaching, lips parted, I’m going to taste what you ate last week kind of kiss. Peter had stage fright at first, but it didn’t take him long to wrap me up tight and let his emotions bleed into my lips. His kiss bordered on hungry and angry, the kind of emotions that normally would have led to the shedding of clothes, but not even I was that risqué.

  He pulled away too soon only to smile down at me and shake his head. “You know how to get to me.”

  I had to take a breath. “That was a kiss for the books and probably going on several social media pages. Good job.” I winked.

  Peter cringed.

  “I love you.”

  “I love you more. Please be careful.” His eyes roved over the cluster of people staring and taking pictures of us.

  I grabbed my suitcase and slung my laptop case across my shoulder. “I will. Joan is tougher than ten bodyguards.”

  “Call me when you land.”

  I nodded while we gave all the lookie-loos a picture-perfect departure with Peter grasping my hand until only our fingertips touched as I walked away.

  A group of women shouted, “We love you, Autumn!”

  I put on another show and smiled and waved at them. It was the first time someone had called me Autumn. I wasn’t sure how to feel about it.

  Not everyone was as pleasant. While I was checking in, some women behind me hadn’t learned the art of whispering. “OMG. Did you see her husband? He’s freaking hot. I heard he was a priest. If my priest looked like that I would go to church more.”

  Ignore them.

  “I heard last night on the news that she’s not even catholic and he had to leave the church because they were caught together in the rectory.”

  What the hell? I’d never been in a rectory. Did Mimsy say that? Maybe I should have watched the entire interview. If everyone thought we were like that novel The Thorn Birds, they were sorely mistaken. We had nothing to be ashamed of. No vows were broken. We didn’t even consummate our relationship until we were married. Admittedly, that was hard, but I knew Peter would have regretted it any other way. It took everything I had not to lash out at those women who should really learn to whisper properly.

  It didn’t get any better once I was on the plane. In first class, of all places. I’d never flown first class. All that meant, besides more comfortable and roomier seating, was that everyone who boarded the plane who recognized me, which was more than I would have guessed by this point, had a chance to gawk at me or ask me for an autograph. The flight attendants didn’t appreciate it and ushered people along, to my relief. Signing autographs was weird. I’d never done it in person. I’d signed stacks and stacks of books, but never in person. I had to remember to write Autumn Moone, not Delanie Decker.

  I quickly realized no one was interested in Delanie, except for the sordid, untrue details of my life. And maybe the slick businessman who became my seatmate. He didn’t have a clue who I was but stared at my empty ring finger and tried to engage me in conversation. Not even my earbuds deterred him from talking to me, and he asked me for my number after I told him I was married.

  The only good thing to come out of the two-hour flight was when we landed, a savvy flight attendant took mercy on me by personally retrieving me and letting me deplane before anyone else. For her kindness, I gave her Fiona’s email and told her to contact her. I would be sure she got a signed copy of each one of my books in hardback. For that I received a genuine hug.

  I hustled through the airport, well, as much as you can hustle through JFK. Like the city where it resided, it was wall-to-wall people. I only had a carry-on, so I was calling Joan as I walked, letting her know to come pick me up. She promised she would be on time and waiting in the cell phone lot when I arrived. She lied.

  “Ten minutes. Traffic is hell.”

  “You don’t know what hell is. People are staring and pointing at me,” I whispered into the phone.

  “That’s because you look like a Calvin Klein model and FYI, you’re all over social media and the news. Go hide in the bathroom or something. On second thought, don’t use the bathrooms there.”

  “
Just drive fast.”

  “Kid, you’ve been to New York; there’s no such thing.”

  “Fine. Call me when you get here.”

  “Will do, darling,” she mocked me.

  I tried to blend in and headed toward Starbucks, but my phone rang. I assumed it was Peter. I was planning on calling him from the car so it would be somewhat private, but I guessed he was anxious to know if I landed. And I was eager to find out how it was going there.

  More surprises were on the horizon. It was Cat. We’d already had our quarterly call. It hit me that maybe I should have told her about my big secret, but she never knew any of my other secrets, even the biggest one of them all. A sudden pang hit my heart. I had to catch my breath. No one would find out about her. I’d made sure. I tried to calm myself. I answered the phone as a distraction, not because I wanted to talk.

  “Hi, Cat.”

  “Hello, Autumn.” She didn’t sound pleased. What did she expect?

  “Funny,” I brushed off the slight.

  “I wasn’t trying to be humorous. Our phones have been ringing nonstop thanks to you.”

  “Sorry about that.”

  “A heads-up would have been nice; we are your parents after all. Ron says hello, by the way.” How did they call themselves my parents when they didn’t want me to call them Mom and Dad?

  “Tell Ron hello for me.”

  “The rumors are true then.”

  I maneuvered around a crowd and tried to find a corner to hide in. All I could find was a sparsely populated gate. “It depends on what you’ve heard.”

  “You’re a romance author?” She didn’t even try to hide her distaste.

  “I have written a few romance books.”

  “You’re the biggest name in romance right now.” She wasn’t taking kindly to my attempts to keep it light. “You do realize you’re perpetuating unrealistic fantasies that hurt the general population? Books like yours only fuel unmet expectations. Ron and I see this all the time in our practice. I never thought our daughter would be part of the problem.”

  Resentment boiled inside of me. I tried hard to keep it to a simmer, but my mouth was burning. “Daughter? Since when have you called me your daughter, or better yet treated me like one?”