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

by Jennifer Peel

  “Del?”

  “I’m fine. Do you have the book?”

  She sighed and reached into her bag to retrieve A Black Heart. The book that started it all. His book. I thought trying to get over him the first time was gut wrenching. I had no idea how easy I had it then, never truly having had a taste of him. Now that I knew exactly what I was missing out on, I could hardly breathe, it hurt so bad. If only I could channel some of that pain into bleeding on the page, but I was drained dry. I’d stared at my laptop all night last night in my hotel room, not typing one single thought or word.

  She handed me the book as if she regretted doing so. Believe me, no one regretted it more than me. How I was going to get through reading the now infamous first chapter, I had no idea. But I was committed to keeping my word and fulfilling my obligation to LH Ink and the crowd in the packed auditorium. It was the only noble thing I had left to do.

  Under the spotlight and in front of the captive audience, I opened the book as if it was sacred text, not knowing why. I had the first chapter engraved on my heart. I held onto the book as if it was my lifeline, the steadying force that saw me through the pain of never having the chance of being loved by him. But the strength I had once felt from it was no longer powerful enough to heal the wounds he left behind where his love had touched me so deeply.

  I took a deep breath and relied on my own strength. It was all I had left.

  In the beginning, we are told it all began with a man and that he was good. But as good as he was, he could never be great. For the man was without a woman to hone him, test him, and, most importantly, love him. Hunter Black was such a man, as good as any man who had ever lived, and though many women had loved him, there was only one meant to complete him.

  That woman wasn’t me.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  I stared at the picked-through apple pecan salad room service had delivered an hour ago resting on the coffee table, telling myself I should eat more if it, but my stomach begged me not to. The few bites I had gotten down felt ready to make a reappearance. The stress and emotional turmoil were decidedly trying to off me. That, and this story, which I’d also been staring at for what seemed like days in between pretending that life was perfect as I signed book after book and smiled for picture after picture with fans who had taken the time to come and see me. Truly I was honored, but it only reminded me that my life had unalterably changed.

  The only thing I had written since I’d been in Atlanta was, Did he understand what he had done to her?

  The answer was no. I wasn’t even sure he cared. It had been three days since his parting words to me. I knew it was foolish to think that he would call, but that’s what my Peter would have done. Despite how I’d hurt him, he would have wanted to know I was okay. Hell, he could have even called or texted to say he’d hired a divorce attorney. I knew he still lived because Avery and Sam were relentlessly texting and calling me. They were worried and obviously still in the dark, which surprised me. I didn’t shed any light on the situation other than to text them that I loved them, and I was sorry. They desperately wanted to know what I was sorry for. In time, that would all come out without me having to say it.

  I gave up on both the salad and the manuscript and pulled up the address I was supposed to give tomorrow to fine tune it. And by that I meant blankly stare at it. When I got bored of that, I stared around the enormous suite I was in. It was too ornate for my taste. Who needed a crystal chandelier above the bed? And the drapes made me feel like I was in the Playboy Mansion. At least the velvet couch was comfortable. I had yet to sleep on the bed or sleep much at all. If I could have, I would have slumbered for days, hopefully without any dreams. When I had managed to sleep, it was restless and filled with visions of Peter, good and bad. I cursed the good. It only made waking up to my nightmare that much harder.

  I had dozed off only to be woken up around nine by someone pounding on my door. My first instinct was to reach for the hotel phone and dial security. There had been some incidents already with fans trying to sneak up to my floor, which was only accessible if you had the proper keycard and a code. But I was learning that people were determined and resourceful, and therefore dangerous.

  I pressed the first key before I heard, “Del, it’s me. Open up.” Joan’s New York accent could wake the dead.

  She was supposed to have called when she landed. I picked up my phone. Oops. It was dead. I pushed myself off the couch and shuffled toward the door. I opened the door and before I knew it, I was accosted by not the woman who knocked, but someone I needed. Sam, though not as tall as me, wrapped me in her arms without a word. My emotions overwhelmed me and the tears I had to carefully fight all day while meeting fans unleashed their wrath, wetting Sam’s head. Joan stood by smugly taking in the scene, pleased with the surprise she’d given me.

  “What are you doing here?” I cried.

  Sam squeezed tighter. “They asked me to come and do your introduction tomorrow. I thought I would surprise you. Surprise. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all.”

  She leaned away to judge the truth in my puffy red eyes. Her manicured hand landed on my cheek. “Oh, honey, what’s wrong?”

  “Everything,” I whined like a child.

  “Well, you look like hell.” Joan pinched my arm. “You’re skin and bones, and since when did you start wearing flannel pajamas?”

  Since this trip when I realized I had no pajamas and cried all night about it the first night when I had to wear my own T-shirt. I had Fiona go buy me the cream set I was wearing now. I wanted something completely unlike me.

  “You know I love flannel.” Sam gave me a wink. She had posted about her love for the soft warm fabric many times. I believe Reed loved it too, but probably more when it was on the floor.

  “Sit down.” I waved toward the living area in the suite, aka my bedroom.

  They both eyed the couch where the blanket and pillow I’d been using were crumpled up in the corner.

  “Are you sleeping on the couch?” Joan asked.

  I nodded and took my place curled up in the corner.

  Sam didn’t stand on ceremony and sat right next to me and put her arm around me. I felt guilty for indulging in the comfort she offered because I knew it wouldn’t be long before she hated me just like her brother, but the affection was more than welcome.

  Leave it to Joan to interrupt the warm moment. “Kid, what the hell is going on? And where is your husband?”

  That was the worst possible question she could ask. I turned into Sam and lost it, but through my sobs I got out, “He left me. We’re over.”

  For a moment, silence reigned supreme. You knew it was bad when Joan was rendered speechless.

  Sam patted my back. “That explains why he’s been ripping everyone’s head off the last few days, especially Ma’s. We’ve all tried to talk to him, but he’s refused. He even told James to go to hell.”

  That shocked me. I’d never heard Peter swear.

  “What happened between the two of you?” Sam gently asked.

  I sat up and met Sam’s gray, concerned eyes. I supposed I should tell her and get it over with. There was no keeping it secret and frankly, I was tired of hiding it. “I don’t even know where to start.”

  Sam lovingly brushed my hair back with her hand. “Start from the beginning.”

  My crying had turned to shudders, making me take a few deep breaths before I could begin. “Ten years ago, I was a student journalist for my college paper in San Diego. I was hungry to expose injustices, but naïve and young. I was nineteen, but thought I was so much older since I had graduated from high school early and was already a junior.”

  Sam gave me an understanding smile. Didn’t we all think we knew everything at that age?

  “Well,” I continued, “a friend of mine on the staff had uncovered some potentially damaging information about one of the school’s largest donors, Hugh Kincaid, who was about ready to have the business school there named in honor o
f him.”

  Joan gasped.

  I whipped my head toward her. “You know him?”

  “I’ve heard of the weasel. He did time for embezzlement. You didn’t have anything to do with that, did you?”

  I hung my head in shame. “I should have.” When I raised my head, both women were intently staring at me, anxious for me to continue, so I did, albeit reluctantly. “Hugh had a son, Blair.” I cringed. “He had caught wind that we were investigating his father and he convinced me to hear his family’s side of the story. I won’t go into all the gory details, but one thing led to another and before I knew it, he had persuaded me that not only was his father innocent, but Blair was more than interested me. We had this fire and ice thing going on, and I admit the older, debonair man charmed me. I don’t even know when it began. I seemed to be in the middle of a relationship with him before I could even comprehend we were having one.”

  For the next part I had to look down in my lap. I wasn’t sure I could face Sam’s disappointment. “I was stupid enough to believe that he loved me even though we hardly ever went out in public together and he never introduced me to his family. He used our age difference and waiting for the right time as an excuse. But I was so desperate to be loved and feel like I belonged somewhere, I took whatever I could get.” The tears began to flow again. “And then I turned up . . . pregnant.”

  I felt Sam’s hand land on her chest. Joan whistled low.

  “Yeah. There I was, nineteen, with no clue, no money, and scared out of my mind. When I told Blair, he told me to get rid of it, like it was that simple. I suppose for him it was, but something happened to me. It was like the baby called to me, and I knew with all that I was that I was supposed to protect it. When I refused, he raised his hand to hit me, but I stood defiantly, daring him to. The physical blow never came, but he got his shot in. He said, ‘I was about done with you anyway. And if you tell anyone about this, I’ll make sure you wish you never lived.’”

  Joan jumped up, explicative after explicative came out of her mouth. Meanwhile, Sam took my hand. “What did you do, honey?” I was surprised she was still being so kind to me. She had to have seen where this was going.

  “At first I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t tell my parents—they would have told me to do the same thing as Blair, all while lecturing me for my poor choice and how this would reflect on them. So, I didn’t tell anyone. Until I overheard the conversation of this couple I used to watch all the time at the café I waitressed at. They were lamenting that their recent attempt to adopt a baby had fallen through. There was something about them. It was like I knew I was supposed to talk to them.” I smiled, remembering them. “She was a doctor, very conservative in nature, and he was a legal-aid lawyer, her opposite in every way, but such love and respect existed between them even when they disagreed about almost everything except what to order for dessert. Henry was his name and he used to take Anna, his wife, by the hand and say, ‘I respect your right to your wrong opinion, now kiss me.’ She always did, but not before saying, ‘I only state facts, my dear.’ They would laugh before tenderly kissing.” They were exactly the kind of people I wanted to raise my daughter, open-minded and affectionate. Things I loved about Peter.

  Sam smiled. Even unsentimental Joan’s lip twitched.

  “But they couldn’t have children and they so wanted to. And I,” my voice cracked, “knew I had no business having one at that time. I never thought I wanted to be a mother for the longest time. And who knows, I probably never will. I’m not sure I deserve to be someone’s mother.”

  “That’s not true,” Sam contradicted me. “You would be a great mother.”

  “Well, it doesn’t matter because Peter doesn’t want me.”

  Sam shook her head. “I don’t believe that for a second. He’s miserable without you. Lost.”

  “Forget Peter for right now,” Joan cut in. “What happened to the baby?”

  The baby. “I approached Anna and Henry and told them about my situation and asked them if they wanted to adopt her.” I remembered how cautious but excited they were and how good they were to me, especially Anna. She mothered me through the pregnancy.

  “Her?” Sam asked.

  I rested my head on Sam’s shoulder. “Yes. I called her Baby X.”

  “Why?” Joan asked.

  “I couldn’t bear to know the name Anna and Henry picked out for her or to give her one of my own even though Anna and Henry offered to let me name her. I tried my best to stay detached from her, but she wouldn’t let me. It sounds weird, but I felt like she spoke to me in her own way. I had no idea the bond that could exist between a mother and child. Deciding to give her up for adoption was the hardest thing I had to do, but I knew she would be better off with someone else. And I was afraid of what Blair might do if he found out I’d kept her.”

  Joan growled and bared her teeth. “How did you get around that?” her lawyer side asked.

  “Henry tried to help me get a judge to terminate his rights without his consent, but I would have had to prove that he had abused me or intimidated me.”

  “Sounds to me like he did.” Sam stroked my hair ever so gently.

  “I couldn’t prove that, and no one was going to take my word over his—he came from money and a powerful family. So, I had to approach him and ask him to relinquish his rights.”

  “No.” Sam was horrified.

  I nodded. “I surprised him at his office one day when I was seven months along. He had the audacity to think I had come crawling back to him after coming to my senses. I never showed all that much and wore clothes to hide the fact I was pregnant. He was furious when he found out my real reason, but he knew then it was his only option to keep it quiet, so he agreed, but not before threatening me again.”

  “You poor thing,” Sam said.

  “Don’t say that.”

  “Why, honey?”

  “Because I kept all of this from your brother. Why do you think he left me? That, and he thought I was cheating on him.”

  “What?!” Both Sam and Joan exclaimed.

  I explained the entire story about Anna and Henry contacting me and volunteering at the women’s shelter and the secret RCIA classes. How Peter had talked to the shelter director, which led him to believe I was cheating on him. It was the perfect storm.

  “Did you explain all this to my brother?”

  “He never gave me the chance. I don’t blame him for that. I should have told him about my baby to begin with. But how could he believe after everything we’ve been through I would want anyone else but him?” I buried my face in Sam’s shoulder, amazed she didn’t hate me.

  Sam gave me no answers, but what she gave me was so much more. She held me and wiped away my tears. And most importantly, she loved me despite what I had done.

  Joan moved and sat on the coffee table and joined in on the mothering by rubbing my legs. “Del, as your lawyer and your friend, I have to ask if you think these people, Anna and Henry, have ulterior motives in contacting you now?”

  I turned my head only enough to see her. I refused to move away from Sam. “I don’t think so. They were so good to me. I wouldn’t have given my baby to them if I’d thought any different.”

  She nodded, satisfied. “The question now is, are you going to meet your daughter?”

  That was a terrifying question.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Sam ended up staying in my room and, I was almost embarrassed to say, she held me on the couch all night long. It was the first night in a long time I got a few hours of uninterrupted sleep. Her presence was medicine for my soul. Too bad it didn’t help with the waves of nausea or my appetite, but I would take what I could get at this point. Maybe if I decided on whether I should meet my daughter it would offer some relief. Loosen a few of the knots in my stomach. Both Sam and Joan encouraged me to do it. Sam said I needed to do it because I deserved to know her, and if I wanted to forgive myself, this was the first step. But she said from her point of v
iew, there was no need to forgive myself. I had done the brave thing.

  I didn’t feel brave. I felt as if I had let my baby down. I remember her crying before they laid her on my chest. For those few precious moments against my skin she was calm, but as soon as they took her away she let out this heart wrenching cry. Anna and Henry tried to soothe her, but they couldn’t. I couldn’t take her again. I knew if I had, I wouldn’t have wanted to let her go. Then I left her and went on to move away to try and forget her and the pain, but I found I couldn’t and didn’t want to. What kind of person did that make me?

  I tried sitting up so as not to disturb Sam. I was feeling more nauseous than ever. I took a few sips of water in the dark morning while staring at my now fully charged phone. I picked it up with the same false hope I’d had the last few days that there would be a message from Peter. Once again, I was disappointed. There was a text from Avery, though.

  Good luck today. I wish I could have come too, but things are so busy at the office. I can’t wait to hear all about it. Love you.

  Those last two words meant more to me than I could express. To know even though I had lost Peter’s love, I still had the love of Sam and Avery in my life was something inexpressible.

  Thank you. I love you.

  No longer was I holding back those words. I realized now they didn’t make me vulnerable, they made me stronger. Huh. That thought struck me. I opened my email app and pulled up Anna and Henry’s message. I read it a hundred times, trying to build up my courage before I hit reply.

  Dear Anna and Henry,

  I would love to meet her and see you again. Please let me know a convenient time for you.

  Delanie

  Sam sat up and looked over my shoulder. “Send it.”

  My thumb hovered over the send button. I took a deep breath and, with one eye open, clicked it. I let out that breath and dropped my phone on the table. “I think I might be sick.” I ran to the bathroom and sat in front of the toilet as if I was worshipping it. I would if it would have helped me to feel better. Nothing but dry heaves happened, which gave no relief whatsoever.