The Secrets We Held

by Blair, E. K.

  “And his mom?”

  “I don’t know if she’s ever had a career, to be honest, but she doesn’t work.” I shoot her a smirk. “She’s living the dream being a kept woman.”

  Ady laughs. “I don’t understand people like that.”

  “Me neither. I’d be bored out of my mind.”

  “Exactly.”

  I go to my closet in search of a nice dress. “From what he’s told me, his childhood was nothing like mine.”

  “What are you talking about? You come from money, just like I do. Just like all of us.”

  Pulling out my burgundy shift dress, I hold it up, and Ady gives her approval before I add it to my suitcase. “Yeah, we come from money, but I get the feeling he comes from wealth. Like, luxury wealth.”

  Ady’s smile turns devious in a playful way. “You scored a good one.”

  I roll my eyes. “Oh, please.”

  We both laugh.

  “So, do you have any exciting plans this summer?”

  She shrugs. “The only thing that’s set in stone is that Micah and I will be going to Tampa for a bit, but that’s all.”

  “I’m surprised you don’t go home more often. I mean, have you even gone back since you’ve moved here?”

  She gives me another shrug to avoid acknowledging how strange it is. But that’s Ady.

  “I’ll take that as a no,” I answer for her when she doesn’t respond, and she is quick to change the subject.

  “So, when are you officially out of here?”

  “In two weeks,” I tell her as I close my suitcase. “The movers come the day after I get back from Chicago.”

  “Are you excited?”

  “No,” I say bluntly.

  Piper moved out earlier this week, and it’s been weird ever since. I’m used to coming home and her not being here, but to have all of her belongings gone? I don’t know . . . it makes everything feel so different.

  I miss her. I miss her more than what I thought I would.

  “Well, you’re always welcome at the condo.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  She should know by now that it’s an offer I’m not likely to take her up on. It’s been over a month since Trent almost kissed me in the elevator, and that was the last time I was at their building. When Ady asked me why I never came around anymore, I told her what Trent had done . . . or had almost done, that it crossed the line now that I’m in a relationship with Caleb. It upsets me that he continues to push the boundaries and toy with my emotions.

  It isn’t as if I haven’t seen Trent, but I don’t go out of my way to be around him. If we’re out on the water or at a party, it’s easy for me to avoid him. He has texted me a few times, asking what was up with me, but I brushed it off, telling him I was busy with finals.

  There is no doubt in my mind that he doesn’t remember anything that happened that night, but I do. I remember the embarrassment, the guilt, and the anger at not only myself but also him for having no respect for boundaries.

  “We should get going,” I tell her as I wheel my luggage out of the room.

  Ady helps me load my bags into her trunk, and the drive to the airport is uneventful outside of the heinous Miami traffic. “I expect a phone call when you land so I know Caleb is there to meet you,” Ady says, sliding her car into an open gap in the departure traffic and parking.

  “If I don’t call, I’ll text. Promise.”

  I give her a hug, say goodbye, and go inside to check my luggage before heading to the gate.

  Me: About to board the plane.

  Caleb: Can’t wait to see you. I’ll be there waiting.

  He’s true to his word, looking handsome in a pair of tailored slacks and a casual button-up as he waits for me down at baggage claim. I’m in his arms so fast. I let my nerves about this trip get the better of me on the plane, so it feels amazing to have his soothing warmth around me, quelling my unease.

  “I’m so happy you’re here,” he says before kissing me. “How was your flight?”

  “Aside from the screaming baby across the aisle from me, fine,” I respond lightly with a smile.

  “We need to get you some noise-cancelling headphones.”

  “No joke.”

  After we gather my bags, he leads me out to a sleek car that’s even flashier than the one he drives in Miami.

  “Whose car is this?” I ask.

  “It’s my parents’,” he says as he loads my suitcases.

  “Nice.”

  He opens my door for me, and we are off to the hotel.

  “My parents are excited to meet you.”

  I smile, but it’s forced. “Me too.” It isn’t that I don’t want to meet his parents. I do, because I love Caleb, but it’s nerve-wracking. This is the first time I’ve ever done anything like this, and I worry they won’t approve of me.

  Caleb takes my hand in his. “Why are you fidgeting?”

  “Am I?”

  “Are you nervous?”

  “Maybe a little.” More like a lot.

  “You have nothing to worry about.” He laces his fingers though mine and gives me an encouraging smile.

  There’s a lot for me to be nervous about. He’s told me about how he grew up and the unattainable expectations his father puts on him. I worry they will take one look at me and dismiss me as a beach bum who doesn’t have lofty enough goals and decide I’m not good enough for their son.

  “We’re actually going to meet them for dinner tonight.”

  “Tonight?” I say as my eyes fly in his direction. “I thought we weren’t seeing them until tomorrow?”

  “That was the plan, but they ended up making reservations for this evening.”

  I was really looking forward to spending time with Caleb, just the two of us. “What kind of restaurant are we going to?”

  “A nice one.”

  “How nice?” I ask suspiciously, and he smiles. “Caleb?”

  “You’ll love the food.”

  I smile at his coyness. “That tells me nothing.”

  He gives my hand another squeeze, and I spend the rest of the drive taking in the scenery of the city. He slows the car and pulls through the valet drive. One of the attendants opens my door, and as I step out of the car, the staff is already unloading the bags from the trunk.

  “We’ll have these delivered to your room right away, Mr. Bradford.” I give him an inquisitive look, and he explains, “I checked in earlier today.”

  “I would’ve been fine at a Hampton Inn,” I murmur as he leads me into the elegant LondonHouse.

  He laughs and shakes his head as if the Hampton Inn is nonsense, not really understanding that this hotel only amplifies my anxiety. My parents have always been on the modest side with their money; it’s something I’ve carried with me since I left home. Caleb has always been a little flashy, but now that I’m on his turf, the contrast between us is stark.

  The lobby is opulent with its modern décor and glittering chandlers. The stately brass doors of the elevator slide open, and I hate the pit that forms in my stomach as we ascend up to the eighteenth floor. Caleb opens the door to the suite, and I know he’s doing all this to make me comfortable, but it’s all wrong.

  “What do you think?” he asks as I walk around.

  I paste on a smile. “It’s amazing.”

  “Check out the view.”

  I go to the large windows to see we are right on the Chicago River. “You really didn’t have to do all this.”

  His arms come around me, and he presses a kiss to my cheek. “It’s no big deal.”

  It feels like it is. I’m a college kid who only just turned twenty last month. So, to have my boyfriend whisk me away to Chicago and book this amazing suite for two weeks is a little overwhelming.

  “What do you want to do first?” he asks, and I turn around in his arms and give him a devious smile, which he returns.

  He sweeps me off my feet, causing me to squeal with laughter before he drops me onto the bed and crawls o
n top of me. Slowly, he drags kisses over my clothes from my stomach up to my neck and then grazes his teeth along my earlobe. I shiver against the sensation before grabbing his face and pulling his lips down to mine. Eager, I start unbuttoning his shirt as he runs his hand up the inside of my thigh. He’s mere inches away from where I want his hand to be when we’re interrupted by a knock on the door.

  “Tell them to go away,” I mutter as he sits back on his heels.

  “Bellhop,” a man’s voice announces from the hallway.

  “It’s your luggage, which I’m assuming you need?”

  “Fine.” I groan in frustration when he slides off the bed and starts re-buttoning his shirt.

  Caleb lets the man inside with my luggage, and I peer into the living room, quickly righting myself and smoothing down my hair when the gentleman glances into the bedroom.

  “Is there anything I can get for you, sir?”

  “I think we’re all set,” Caleb responds, slipping the man a tip before showing him out.

  We spend the rest of the afternoon in bed, never making it out to explore the city.

  Evening falls, and we exchange the bed for the shower, leaving me fully satisfied, but equally drained. While Caleb changes into his suit, I do my hair and makeup in the bathroom. There’s a prickling of anxiety in my belly as I get ready, knowing I’m about to meet his parents, and when Caleb walks in to fix his hair, he takes notice of my mood.

  “You look tense, babe,” he says, leaning against the sink so he’s facing me.

  Screwing on the wand to my mascara, I stare at myself in the mirror and blow a few loose strands of my hair away from my forehead.

  “Tell me why you’re stressing out over meeting my parents.” He takes my hand and pulls me in front of him.

  “This is new for me.”

  “What is?”

  “This,” I stress, motioning to the luxury bathroom we’re standing in. “I don’t eat at fancy French restaurants or stay in expensive hotels.”

  “You act like you don’t come from money.”

  “I do, but it’s . . . it’s just different. Sure, there’s money in the bank, but it isn’t as if I’m tossing it around.”

  He tilts his head. “What about that purse you bought last week? The one you spent nearly a grand on?”

  Rolling my head back, I let go of a defeated, “Okay, okay. But that’s just a handbag.”

  “An expensive one,” he teases.

  “I know. I get it. I like purses and shoes, but it’s different.”

  “You’ve said that. I’m just trying to understand.”

  Dropping my head, I take a second to think about how to phrase it so it makes sense. It’s about more than this room or this trip or the stupid purse I spent way too much money on. “Okay,” I start. “Yes, my parents have money, but they aren’t wealthy. I’m scared your parents are going to take one look at me and decide I’m not good enough for you.”

  He sighs and takes my other hand. “Babe . . .”

  “I know. It sounds totally insecure.”

  “You don’t need to worry about what they think. I think you’re amazing, and that’s the only thing that should matter.”

  His reassurance does nothing for my apprehensions, but still, I say a quiet, “I know.”

  “Besides, it’s just dinner,” he adds. “You’re getting worked up over nothing.”

  With a subtle nod, I agree, “You’re right.”

  “I know I am,” he jokes, which has me cracking a smile that he kisses away.

  “I’m going to go call for the car.”

  “Okay.” I silently wish for another hour—or ten—to prepare for this. The preverbal penny is wasted because minutes later, Caleb is holding my car door open and I’m sliding into the passenger seat.

  It’s a short drive to the Chicago Stock Exchange. We take the elevator up to the fortieth floor where his parents are waiting for us inside Everest, a world-renowned French restaurant. My heels tap on the marble floor that leads us into the elegant dining area that overlooks the city, which is glowing against the nighttime backdrop. There’s a black baby grand piano that sits away from the panoramic windows where an elderly man is playing.

  My palm sweats against Caleb’s hand as the hostess leads us over to the table where his parents are sitting. The two of them look so polished. His father is handsome and clean cut with a full head of silver hair, and his mother is perfectly poised with a single strand of pearls around her neck. As we approach, his dad takes notice and stands, looking sharp in a three-piece suit. His mom looks up, and she gives me a beaming smile.

  “Kate,” she greets warmly. “Oh, it’s so good to meet you.” She then pulls me in for a warm hug, calming my nerves just like that.

  “It’s nice to meet you too, Mrs. Bradford.”

  “Please, call me Rose.”

  I smile. How could anyone be scared of a woman named Rose?

  “This is my father, Conrad,” Caleb introduces.

  “Nice to meet you,” I say as he leans in to peck my cheek.

  “Please, have a seat. I hope you don’t mind, but I ordered degustation menu for all of us.”

  “Oh, thank you,” I respond even though I have no clue what that even is.

  The waiter stops by and Caleb orders wine for himself and an iced tea for me.

  “Were you able to do any sightseeing today?” Rose asks. “Caleb told us this is your first time in Chicago.”

  “It is. I was so tired from traveling that we didn’t get a chance to see the city.” I take a sip of my water, blushing on the inside at the memory of having sex with her son all afternoon. “I think Caleb is taking me over to Millennium Park tomorrow.”

  “That sounds fun.” She looks to Caleb. “You should take her to Wildberry for brunch.” She turns back to me, adding, “They have the best Florence Benedict.”

  “I love eggs Benedict.”

  “She’s here for two weeks, Mom. I’m sure we’ll be able to hit all the spots.”

  His father takes a sip from his lowball, the ice rattling against the crystal. “So, Caleb tells me you’re majoring in communications. Do you know what you’d like to do with that?”

  “I’d really like to get into event planning or public relations.”

  “I studied English Literature in college,” Rose says. “It’s been a dream of mine to have something published.”

  “Wow. Caleb didn’t tell me you’re a writer.”

  She fingers the strand of pearls around her neck. “Well, an aspiring writer.”

  “She’s been working on her novel since before Caleb was born.” His dad says, and my eyes stall on him because I expected some kind of teasing mirth but only find lukewarm annoyance. As if his wife’s dream is nothing but a nuisance.

  “These things take time,” she says to Conrad.

  “What’s it about?”

  She smiles without a single wrinkle around her eyes—thanks to Botox, most likely. “It’s a historical romance that unfolds in the English countryside during the seventeenth century.”

  “Sounds interesting.”

  “Don’t get her started,” Caleb says, shooting his mom a smile.

  “So, tell me, how did the two of you meet?” she asks.

  “On the beach. We were both out surfing one day.”

  “Surfing?” his father interjects with a slight sneer as he eyes Caleb.

  “It’s nothing serious,” he explains. “Just something fun to do.”

  “Hmm.”

  “The true talent is Kate.”

  “Oh really?” his mother says.

  “Well, I wouldn’t go as far as to say true talent, but I grew up surfing. My dad taught me when I was little,” I tell her. “It’s always been our thing.”

  “Is all your family in Miami?”

  I turn back to Conrad. “No, I’m from West Palm Beach.”

  “And what do your parents do?” It feels as if Conrad is interrogating me, and my palms start to sweat again.r />
  I tell him about my mom and dad and try to read his expression, but he’s unreadable, which has my unease spiking even higher. Where Caleb’s mom is warm and inviting, his father is stoic and intimidating. Caleb’s hand finds my knee under the table and gives a gentle squeeze.

  “Real estate,” he notes about my mother. “What type?”

  “Residential.”

  “Luxury residential,” Caleb quickly corrects, and the fact that he felt like he had to clarify that bothers me. This is exactly what I feared would happen. One or both of his parents wouldn’t approve of me, and I would be dismissed.

  The waiter returns with our first course, and I couldn’t be more grateful for the etiquette classes my mother enrolled me in as a child. Of course, I hated her at the time because I wanted to be at the beach and not in some stuffy banquet hall with thirty other girls. I don’t hesitate before I pick up the proper fork to use for my lobster. I then trade the fork for a spoon and dip it into the corn soup that’s accompanying the lobster, remembering to scoop away and never toward. At least I won’t have to worry about his father secretly criticizing my manners.

  “And your father is a cop. That’s a very honorable career,” he compliments, not having touched his own food yet. “Is he a detective?”

  “No, he’s a uniformed officer. In his younger years, he spent many years on the SWAT force and he also worked as a DEA. Now he’s behind the wheel.”

  As I tell him this, he flicks his eyes over to Caleb with an expression I can clearly read—he’s unimpressed. I really don’t like that this man is judging the very parents I look up to and admire. They both work hard in different ways, and they love each other deeply.

  My dad didn’t come from money, but my mother did—a lot of money. The two of them met in college. She didn’t care that he was taking out loans and busting his butt having to work between classes. She fell in love with him regardless. Every time my father tells me about how he and mom met, I can’t help but smile.

  “That sounds dangerous,” Rose comments, dipping her spoon into her soup. She then looks to Caleb. “Have you met them?”

  “Not yet, but I have talked to them over the phone.”

  “You’re close?” she asks me.