by Elena Aitken
All We Never Knew
Elena Aitken
For every woman who has ever forgotten who they are—even for a moment.
Contents
Maren
Rylee
Sabrina
Maren
Maren
Rylee
Maren
Sabrina
Maren
Rylee
Maren
Rylee
Maren
Sabrina
Maren
Sabrina
Maren
Rylee
Maren
Rylee
Maren
Sabrina
Maren
Rylee
Sabrina
Maren
Rylee
Maren
Rylee
Sabrina
Maren
Rylee
Maren
Maren
Rylee
Maren
Sabrina
Maren
Maren
Rylee
Maren
Rylee
Maren
Rylee
Sabrina
Maren
Maren
When We Left
Join Me!
Also by Elena Aitken
About the Author
Maren
Maren Bennett wasn’t stupid. Not that it would take a private investigator to know that they were up to something behind her back.
No.
It definitely didn’t take a genius to notice the whispering between the two of them when they thought she was out of the room, the furtive glances at their cell phones when they thought she was busy with other things.
It’s not that they didn’t try to hide it. They did.
But there was nothing that her husband and best friend could keep from her. She knew them better than anyone else in the world. And they knew her. Which was why they should have known that she’d find out the truth that they’d tried so desperately to hide.
With the days getting longer, the sun wasn’t quite down yet by the time Maren pulled into the driveway and the house was eerily quiet. If she’d needed a clue, that would have been it. By seven on a Friday night, the house she and Davis had made a home in for the last fourteen years was usually lit up with life. In the living room, the television with whatever show Davis was currently binging on Netflix would be flashing on the screen. Upstairs, Rylee’s room and every single light switch she’d passed to get there, would be flicked on as she figured out her teenage life and her plans for the weekend.
Despite the quiet, the house still felt full of life—the way it always did—as Maren made her way up the walkway to the front door. She hesitated before turning the handle, which was ridiculous.
Should I ring the bell? It was a stupid question. It was her house, after all. Every inch of it was a part of her from the moment she’d fallen in love with it when Rylee was only two years old. They hadn’t even been looking for a new house when Maren first drove past the white clapboard two-story with the manicured lawn and carefully tended gardens and the For Sale sign out front. It was a family house. A home. She could picture Rylee running through the sprinkler on hot summer days and hosting family dinners in the formal dining room on holidays. It would be their forever home.
She’d gone straight back to their two-bedroom split-level with the patchy brown front lawn and told Davis about the big white house. It had taken some convincing, and more than a little bit of sacrifice in those early days before Davis’s career in finance had really started to take off, but they’d bought it and ever since, the house had become a part of her.
She straightened her shoulders, gave them one more moment to pull themselves together inside—as surely they’d heard her car in the drive—and then finally put her hand on the brass knob and twisted.
“Hello? Anyone home?” She called out—injecting just the right amount of cheer into her voice—as she pushed the oak door open and stepped into the entryway.
There was no sound at first and then, just as she’d predicted, the lights flicked on and her husband and best friend were both in front of her, wearing matching guilty expressions.
A second later, someone in the shadows behind them yelled, “Surprise!”
Not wanting to completely ruin the effect, Maren pressed her hand to her chest and feigned shock. “A surprise party? For me?” She glanced at Davis, who shook his head as he walked over to kiss her cheek in greeting.
“You knew.”
It wasn’t a question, so she didn’t bother answering as she slipped her hand into his and accepted a hug from her oldest and closest friend, Sabrina Miller.
“I knew you knew.” Sabrina sounded somewhat disappointed.
A twinge of guilt flickered in Maren’s gut. Maybe she shouldn’t have tried so hard to figure out their secret.
“Of course, I knew.” Maren winked and blew her a kiss. “But it doesn’t matter. I’m still so surprised to see everyone and it’s super sweet. Thank you.” She looked between them both. “Really. This is amazing.”
Maren didn’t like to lie, but she could and she would when the situation called for it. And because she’d made a habit of not wanting anyone to ever feel bad, particularly on her account, she smiled broadly and told them again how happy she was that they’d gone to so much trouble.
The truth was, the last thing Maren had wanted was a party to celebrate her fortieth year. Not even a small one. But if she’d learned one thing over the years, it was it seldom mattered what she wanted as long as her family was happy. After a while, her own wants and desires had more or less merged with those of her family’s, so most of the time it was hard to tell what it was that she wanted.
“Come on.” Sabrina took her hand in hers. “You should make your rounds, birthday girl. Let’s go say hi to everyone and get you a drink.”
They left Davis by the door in case more guests arrived, and together they walked through to the living room so Maren could greet the gathering of her friends and neighbors. The more hugs, kisses, and well wishes she received, the more relaxed she became until she found herself enjoying the small party. She’d been hoping for something a bit more laid-back to celebrate, and had even done her best to drop a few hints for a quiet dinner at one of the fancier restaurants downtown or maybe even just some takeout. Something where no one had to go to a lot of fuss. But now that she was there and the house was full, maybe it wasn’t so bad. After all, it was nice to see everyone all together and they were there for—
“Happy birthday, Mom.” Rylee pushed through the crowd and to Maren’s delight, let her mother squeeze her in a bear hug the way she used to when she was little. It happened less and less frequently and Maren would take it where she could. “I bet you’re really surprised, right?” She rolled her eyes in the way she’d recently perfected and laughed.
“Of course I am.” Maren laughed with her daughter.
“I told them not to.” Rylee grabbed a mini quiche from a tray. “But you know Auntie Sabrina. Once she decides to do something…”
“There’s no stopping her.” Maren finished for her.
“Like a bulldozer,” they said together. It wasn’t the first time.
Next to her, Sabrina pretended to be offended. “Hey.” She shrugged. “I may be a bulldozer, but I’m a dozer who knows what she wants and I always get it. Don’t I?”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Good. Because I might not be good at a lot of things, but throwing a party for my best friend is definitely one of the areas where I shine.”
Maren laughed. Sabrina had been on the end of more than one joke about her flightiness over the years, b
ut she was right: partying had always been her strong suit.
“You’re good at lots of things.”
Sabrina gave Maren a kiss on the cheek. “Getting better,” she corrected as she rubbed her growing belly. “And right now, I’m going to be good at getting this baby some chocolate.”
Maren tried her best not to roll her eyes. It may have been almost sixteen years since she’d given birth herself, and maybe she’d forgotten a few things, but as far as Maren was concerned, her best friend was definitely milking the whole cravings part of the process.
Rylee waited until Sabrina left before she whispered to her mom, “I really did tell them not to have a party.” She took a bite of pastry and, with a mouth full, kept talking. “But Dad said he owed you something good after totally dropping the ball for, like, ever.”
Maren laughed again. Davis had dropped the ball for like ever. He had a lot of strengths, but making a big deal over birthdays or anniversaries wasn’t one of them. Not that she minded. Not really.
Special occasions were her area. Just four months earlier, she’d hosted a huge blow-out with all Davis’s buddies from work, some of the parents from Rylee’s swim club who they’d become friendly with, and all of their old friends from high school all packed into the local sports pub to celebrate his fortieth. It was no small miracle that she’d pulled it all off. But she had.
Because that’s what Maren did. Organizer of parties, holidays, and…just life in general.
“It was really nice of them to do this.” Maren couldn’t be sure whether she was trying to convince her daughter or herself. She took a quiche of her own but hesitated before putting it in her mouth. “And thank you for being here, kiddo.” She kissed her on the forehead. “It means a lot. I’m sure you’d rather be anywhere else.” Rylee distanced herself a little more from them every day in favor of her friends. Even though it hurt Maren’s feelings every time her daughter chose a night watching YouTube with her friends instead of time with her, she just kept telling herself it was normal developmental behavior. Even if that was true, it didn’t make it sting any less.
“Happy birthday, Mom.” She shrugged and looked at her feet. “Shouldn’t you go find Auntie Sabrina before she eats all the chocolate?”
Even though it made her blush, Maren gave her daughter another kiss before going in search of her friend and getting herself a drink. After all, it was a party.
Not surprisingly, most of the women had found their way into the kitchen and there was a good crowd picking away at the food trays Davis must have ordered from the Italian market she favored. Or more likely, that Sabrina had ordered. Davis wasn’t one for details.
“Happy birthday, Maren.” Jessica Grant, Maren’s next-door neighbor, gave her a big hug before pressing a glass of wine in her hand. “How surprised did you pretend to be?”
Maren winked and took a grateful sip of the much-needed drink. Jessica had lived next door for the last ten years and even though they’d had proximity, their friendship had never grown the way Maren once thought it would. Even so, Jessica knew her well enough to know when she needed wine and lots of it.
“I’m sure Davis knew you knew. How could he not? I mean, men aren’t the sharpest—”
“It was nice of him to throw the party.” Maren cut off the rant before it could get started. Ever since Jessica had discovered her husband cheating on her a few months earlier and kicked him out, she’d become just a shade too bitter than any of them felt was healthy.
“It was,” she said quickly. “Especially because he invited some very handsome, and if I’m lucky, very single men.”
Maren almost choked on her wine. “Don’t tell me you’re finally ready to start dating?”
She secretly, or maybe not so secretly, hoped she would.
“I was thinking about it.” She shrugged, but Maren could see the glimmer of excitement in her eyes. “After all, there are definitely things I miss about having a man around.”
“Is that right?” She wiggled her eyebrows as she waited for the details that, knowing Jessica, would surely follow.
“Yes.” She grinned wickedly and nudged Maren with her elbow. “Like throwing me a birthday party.”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “Right. Don’t give the man too much credit,” she said, unable to defend him completely. “Davis had help. I’m sure Sabrina did most of the work.”
“You got that right.” Sabrina sidled up next to her and gave Maren a gentle hip bump. “Good, you got a glass of wine.” She moved back a little and leaned against the sink. “God, I miss wine.” Her hand went to her stomach that, at almost six months pregnant, was starting to resemble a basketball.
Not for the first time, Maren couldn’t help but feel a twinge of self-satisfaction that finally after years of struggling to get back to a body that was lost to her forever—while her best friend strutted around in her little bikinis with nary a stretch mark in sight—Sabrina finally knew what it was like to have her body stretched and distorted by a tiny human.
The moment she thought it, though, Maren felt bad for allowing herself to think something so petty. After all, it wasn’t Sabrina’s fault that trying to regain a pre-baby body was like pouring rain back into a cloud. Besides, in only a few months she’d figure it out on her own soon enough.
“Don’t worry,” Maren told her. “Wine isn’t going anywhere. And until that little peanut is born, I’ll gladly handle your share.” She raised her glass in a mini toast before taking a generous sip.
“You’re such a good friend.” Sabrina shook her head, but it was true.
Maren really couldn’t be happier that her best friend was finally having a baby of her own. Even if she couldn’t quite wrap her head around how at forty you would actively choose to become a single mother by going through all the trouble of finding a donor. But then again, it wasn’t Maren’s story to understand. If Sabrina was happy, she was happy.
With her fortieth birthday looming, Maren had spent a lot of time thinking about what she wanted this new era of life to look like, and becoming a new mother was definitely not on that list. Quite the opposite. With Rylee almost sixteen, and growing more and more independent every day, she was looking to this next year as a fresh start—one that didn’t necessarily revolve around her little family, but maybe, a little bit more on her. After all, it was long past time.
The best thing about turning forty was knowing that she was finally right on the cusp of getting her life back. Forty was going to be her year. Hell, maybe even her decade. She took a deep drink of the wine and let the richness roll down the back of her throat as she relished the thought.
Maren didn’t need a party to know that these next few years were going to be incredible. Besides finally focusing on herself, her career, and maybe some as of yet undiscovered passions, she was ready to reconnect with Davis, too. They’d always had a spark, but it was time to fan the flames of their relationship back into the roaring fire it once was. In a few years, Rylee would be gone to college and they could finally start taking all of those long vacations they’d always talked about. And they’d be able to afford them, too, because she was finally going to go after that promotion she’d been passing over for years in favor of focusing on her family.
Oh yes. Maren had big plans. And for the first time in her adult life, those plans weren’t going to be defined by motherhood.
Rylee
Rylee mingled and drifted around the living room, trying her best not to look too bored, but not really wanting to engage any of the just tipsy enough to be annoying adults in any real conversation. She ducked around the giant potted palm tree thing her mom kept in the living room just in time to avoid an awkward conversation with Mrs. Bingham. She’d been her Girl Scout leader a million years ago, and for whatever reason thought that meant they were friends. The last thing Rylee needed was to get sucked into small talk about what she’d been up to in the eight years since she’d spent Wednesday nights in a gymnasium making tissue paper flowers with
the woman.
It was ridiculous that she had to spend an entire Friday night at home because of the stupid party anyway. Especially considering Rylee knew her mom hadn’t even wanted it. Not that her dad cared. Or Auntie Sabrina. She’d tried to tell them both. More than once. But they’d insisted that throwing the party was the right thing to do. And maybe they’d been right. After all, her mom hadn’t look too bothered by it. She’d smiled and laughed and she had seemed really happy that Rylee was there, too.
And that’s why she’d given up a Friday night hanging out with her best friend. Because if she hadn’t been there, her mom would have been devastated, as if she were her friend and not her daughter. Sometimes her mother’s attachment to her was super annoying. Most of the time, really. None of her other friends had a mother who was always in their faces and knew everything about what they were doing and where they were going, and worse…wanted to hang out with them like they were best friends. She was going to be sixteen next month, which meant Rylee really needed her mom to get a life that didn’t involve her.
She ignored the little flicker of guilt she felt every time she got annoyed by her mother’s involvement. It wasn’t all bad.
Besides, it didn’t take much for Rylee just to humor her. Mostly because it made her mom happy and of course she really did love her. But also, because her dad was constantly telling her to, “Humor your mother.”
