The Secrets We Held

by Blair, E. K.

  I nod.

  “That’s so nice.”

  “Son, I spoke to Harrison Astor. You remember the Astors, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “He and I met for lunch the other week, and he’s interested in speaking with you about a possible position after you graduate.”

  “But they’re exclusive to Chicago. They don’t have any other offices, right?”

  “Chicago’s your home, Son.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “We’ll discuss it further another day,” his father says, cutting him off.

  There is tension in Caleb that wasn’t there a few moments ago, so I brush my hand over his, which is still on my knee. Then I turn to Rose. “What do you recommend to be the must-do things while I’m here?”

  She perks up, and thankfully, we are able to stay on this topic throughout the next several courses. As the night winds down and I can’t eat another bite, I thank Caleb’s parents for a wonderful dinner.

  “It’s our pleasure,” Rose says as we make our way down to the lobby. “I’m looking forward to having you over later this week for dinner.

  “Is there anything I can help with?”

  “There’s no need for us to get our hands dirty. I’ve hired a chef to prepare all the food,” she tells me as we step off the elevator and into the lobby. “You’ll love Nigel’s food. He’s one of the most sought after in the city.”

  “Oh, wow.” It’s a bit over the top for my liking, but I give her a polite smile. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  After we say our goodbyes, Caleb and I head back to the hotel, and as soon as we walk into our suite, I plop down onto the sofa in the living room.

  Caleb slips off his tie and unfastens the top button of his shirt. “See, that wasn’t so bad.”

  The same smile I gave his mother finds its way back onto my lips. Sure, his mother was pleasant enough, but his dad . . . not so much. “Your father seems to want you back in Chicago,” I remark as I kick off my heels.

  “I’m happy in Miami, you know that.”

  “Does he?”

  Caleb sits next to me and pulls my legs onto his lap. “I’ve told him, but he only hears what he wants to hear.”

  KATE

  This past week has been amazing. Caleb has taken me all over the city, showing me around the Navy Pier, Millennium Park, and Michigan Avenue. We’ve eaten amazing food and went to see a Cubs game, where they snatched the win from the St. Louis Cardinals.

  Yesterday was the best day yet. We took a trip over to Matthiessen State Park. Everything about that place was spectacular, from the Cascade Falls, where the canyon drops forty-five feet and the Lower Dell begins, to the mineral springs and salt licks.

  When we got back, we were both too exhausted to eat. We woke up this morning, starving, and ended up ordering half the items on the room service menu. The smell of leftover waffles and maple syrup lingers in the air as we get ready to head over to his parents’. Caleb and his dad are going golfing, so I decided I would venture off by myself to do some shopping along The Magnificent Mile.

  “You about ready?”

  “Yep!” I respond, excited for the day to begin. “What time is dinner at your parents’ tonight?”

  “Seven thirty.”

  As we drive over to The Loop, I ask, “So what do you think your father wants to talk to you about?”

  “More than likely, my plans for after graduation next year, which is why it’s a good idea that you aren’t around.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I doubt the conversation is going to go well.”

  I reach across the center console and slip my hand over his. He’s been tense all morning, and I can understand why. The limited time spent with Conrad earlier this week at dinner made me really want to avoid any other interaction with him. He was intense.

  “This is it,” he notes as we drive around the front of the building and into the private parking garage.

  “This is where you grew up?”

  “Yes.”

  There is no backyard to play in or neighbors’ houses to hang out at. I live in a high-rise in Miami, but to grow up in one seems so unfortunate. Having summertime cookouts and roasting marshmallows in the fire pit are some of my favorite memories. Caleb wouldn’t have experienced any of that.

  I decide to follow him up and say a quick hello to his parents before I breakaway for the day. Nothing about the black marbled lobby feels homey. With its dim lighting and eerie quietness, it’s more like a commercial property than a home.

  “Good morning, Mr. Bradford,” the uniformed guard greets from behind a massive desk.

  “Hey, Bruno,” Caleb responds as he leads me over to the bank of elevators, and once we’ve reached the fifty-third floor, he leads me into the home he grew up in.

  The lavish condo, which is a stark contrast to the contemporary lobby, is outfitted in dark wood, gold accents, and heavy drapes. My lungs fill with the scent of leather as we walk through the foyer and into the main section of living space.

  “Honey, is that you?” his mother calls out right before she rounds the corner. She gives her son a hug before addressing me. “Welcome to our home. Come in, come in.”

  I smile as I follow her into the sitting room, which boasts a spectacular view over Millennium Park.

  “Your home is beautiful.”

  “Thank you, dear,” she says before motioning to the large chesterfield sofa. “Please, have a seat. Can I get you anything to drink? A cup of tea?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “I thought you were going to be here an hour ago.” His father strides into the room and walks right over to where I’m sitting, and I stand as he approaches and kisses my cheek. “Kate, welcome.”

  “Thank you. Your home is lovely.”

  He gives a curt nod before turning to Caleb. “Come back to my office. I have something I want to show you.”

  “I’ll see you later?” Caleb says to me, giving me a hug goodbye.

  “I’ll text you later.”

  He gives me a sweeping kiss and then joins his father as they leave the room.

  “Come into the kitchen,” Rose offers. “Let’s have that cup of tea before you head out.”

  The kitchen is as elaborate as the rest of the space, and I take a seat at the massive island while Rose starts heating a kettle of water.

  “So, what are your plans for the day?”

  “I figured I’d take it easy and do some shopping.”

  “It’s a good day for that since you’ll be without Caleb. He hates shopping.”

  I laugh because it’s so true. “Tell me about it. I dragged him out to Bal Harbour so I could buy a handbag, and I swear I had to bribe him with ice cream to keep the complaining at bay.”

  She laughs as she pulls down the tea cups. “That sounds like Caleb. When he was little, it was like pulling teeth to take him shopping for clothes. One day, I gave up and handed the nanny my credit card and told her to take him.”

  I join in her laughter, but part of me doesn’t find it all that funny. She just handed him off to the nanny to deal with?

  She joins me at the island and gives me an endearing smile as she sets a teacup in front of me. “I have to say, I’ve never seen my son so . . . relaxed. He’s normally walking around, brooding.” She covers my hand with her own for a moment when she adds in a softer tone, “You bring out a side to him I don’t get to see very often.”

  “That’s really sweet of you to say.”

  “Tell me, how are you liking Chicago.”

  “I love it,” I respond. “The vibe is . . . well, it’s a lot different from Miami, that’s for sure.”

  Her brows lift in agreeance as she takes a sip. “Do you see yourself there after you graduate?”

  “I do. I mean, it’s home for me. I like having my parents close by.”

  “I understand that. Family is my comfort. Now that Caleb is gone, it just isn’t the same.”

  There’s a
lapse in our conversation, and as I take another look around, I soak in the cold lifelessness of this place and wonder if it had the same lack of warmth when Caleb was a little kid. It’s difficult to imagine him running around here and playing with toys—it’s too pristine. I doubt anyone has ever been comfortable enough to toss their shoes aside and kick their feet up onto the coffee table.

  “Were there a lot of kids in this building when Caleb was growing up?” I ask out of curiosity.

  “A few, but Caleb mostly kept to himself. He was a very quiet boy.”

  Her response sparks a sadness in me. Although I still find him more on the quiet, reserved side, I get the impression that as a child, it was more so. How could it not be? This home—this building—it feels isolating.

  When I drink my last sip, I smile and slip out from my chair. “I should probably get going.”

  “Yes! I don’t want to keep you.”

  “Thank you for the tea. I really enjoyed our visit.” When she picks up the saucers, I ask, “Where’s the restroom?”

  She motions to the hallway across from the sitting room. “Right down there, third door to your left.”

  I wander down the hall, and when I pass a large set of double doors, I hear Caleb and his father talking inside the room beyond, but I don’t linger. While in the restroom, I try to ignore Conrad’s voice as it grows stern. But, by the time I’m rinsing the soap from my hands, I’ve abandoned any guise of pretense and am actively eavesdropping. I focus and try to hear what they’re talking about but struggle to make out their words. Whatever they’re discussing, it has them both angry.

  After drying my hands, I slip out of the bathroom and quietly walk toward the office. There’s a slight crack between the doors that’s wide enough to peer through. The urge to spy causes an unease in my gut. I peek around the corner and find Rose busying herself in the kitchen. She’s too far away to notice me or hear anything, so I duck back behind the wall and sneak a look through the crack. It isn’t what I see that disturbs me, but the hostility in Conrad’s voice. They stand on opposite sides of a large desk and his father throws his fist down against the wood, causing a loud thunk that startles me.

  “What do you mean you aren’t coming back?”

  “I’m staying in Miami.”

  “To do what? Waste your time, slumming it with that girl you brought here?”

  “Her name is Kate, and she’s far from slum.” Caleb defends me with a ferocity I’ve never heard from him before, but it does nothing to alleviate the boulder that’s pressing on my stomach as I listen.

  Conrad stalks over to Caleb and gets in his face as he seethes, “I won’t allow you to disgrace this family. After graduation, playtime is over, and you will come back home.”

  “For what?”

  “You have a name to uphold in this town,” he shouts, and I jump at the boom of his voice.

  A blaze of fear stabs me, and I cower back from the door and lean against the wall, all the while feeling sick over how he’s talking to Caleb.

  “With this family comes expectations.”

  “Which is why I’m happy in Miami.”

  “Failures aren’t happy people, Son.”

  “It just kills you, doesn’t it? The fact that you can’t control me anymore.”

  There’s a loud scuffle, and I leap over to the door and peer through the crack just in time to see Conrad strike Caleb with the back of his hand. My heart catapults, and I choke on my next breath.

  My pulse races in terror as Caleb shouts, “Son of a bitch!”

  “Get your ass back here!”

  Slowly, I step away as panic loops around my lungs and the ricochet of my heart pounds violently in my chest. When the door flies open and slams against the wall, I jump in terror. Caleb’s eyes are wide and venomous, and there’s a gash on his cheekbone that’s dripping blood.

  I’m horror-stricken, staring at him before he snaps, “What the fuck are you still doing here?”

  The acidity in his voice burns straight through me, and I bolt because I don’t know what else to do. Fear drives my feet as I rush through the large space and fly out the door. I run to the elevators and begin stabbing my finger against the button over and over as if it will get me out of here faster if I press it enough times. When the doors slide open, I dash inside and smash my finger against the door close button. The moment I’m enclosed in the small space, I stumble back against the wall, my chest heaving in disbelief and fear.

  I close my eyes, but all I see are Caleb’s scathing ones staring back at me, causing my heart to pound from beneath my ribs. Rattled to the core, my hands tremble, and I don’t even know how to process what I just saw. I swear there was poison in his voice when he spoke to me, a poison I never imagined him to be in possession of, but he is, and he just spit it right at me.

  When the elevator dumps me off in the lobby, I force my legs to move, but my knees won’t stop shaking as I find my way out to the parking garage and into Caleb’s car. Leaning my head back, I stare up and take in a slow breath. My heart says I should be crying, but the fear running rampant through me overpowers it. There are too many emotions that cripple me from making sense of it all.

  Never in my life has my mother or father ever spoken to me the way his father just spoke to him. I can’t even fathom my parents treating me like that, degrading me—hitting me.

  I consider going back because I love Caleb and I want to protect him, but I’m worried he’s pissed at me. I wonder if he knows that I was sneaking around and spying on him?

  I’m too scared to find out.

  After seeing the look in his eyes—the way they sharpened like a dagger, as if he wanted to hurt me with them, I’m not sure I want to go back.

  A million thoughts have my head spiraling in every direction possible. I have no clue what to do in this situation.

  Gripping the steering wheel, I drop my head and tell myself that I’m okay to leave. If Caleb wanted me there, he wouldn’t have reacted the way he did. And if he’s pissed because I saw something he never wanted me to see, I’m sure returning would only make things worse, and that’s the last thing I want.

  I go ahead and start the car, but when I pull out of the garage, I head over to the hotel instead of toward the stores. There’s no way I could possibly enjoy a day of shopping after what just happened—I’m too frazzled.

  For hours, I sit on the sofa and stare out the windows. My conscience pushes me to do something—call him, text him, go back and get him, but none of those options feel right to me.

  Truth is, if I had him here, I wouldn’t even know what to say.

  As my anxiety begins to dissolve, I turn on the television and do my best to focus on something other than the monstrosity across town. When I lose interest in the show, I pace around the suite, wondering how much longer it will be until he calls me.

  If he even calls me at all.

  But if he does, what do I say?

  Do I ask if he’s all right? Do I not say anything at all and act as if nothing happened and wait to see if he brings it up?

  My phone never rings.

  As the day drags on, I grow antsy in the confinement of this room and decide a walk might do me some good. I stroll down the river and meander around, killing time. As boats float by and tourists snap pictures of the surroundings, a whole new slew of tension begins to compound. I have to go back there for dinner tonight.

  Just the thought of it has me sick to my stomach. I want to call someone, anyone, and talk about what happened this morning, but who? There is no one I would even be comfortable sharing this with, and I’m positive Caleb wouldn’t want anyone knowing.

  I find a bench and take a seat. Staring blankly down the river, I go numb for a while as the city bustles around me. In the midst of all these people, I’m so alone with my only comfort back at the one place I never want to return to.

  Time passes slowly, and the tension awakens a dull thumping from behind my eyes. It’s weak at first, but eventually, the
pulsating swells into sharp pains, and I know this is the onset of another migraine episode, which is the last thing I want to be dealing with today. The moment my vision goes splotchy, I head back to the hotel.

  Once I’m in the suite, I take my prescription out of my suitcase, pop a pill, and lie in bed. I spend the rest of the day dozing and don’t bother eating anything. It wouldn’t stay down anyway. The sun is starting to set when I pull myself from the bed, but my anxiety hasn’t waned. The plan was for me to drive back over there around seven, but how can I possibly do that now? How do I go over there and pretend as if nothing happened?

  I reach for my phone to see how much time I have left before I have to leave and find a text from Caleb waiting.

  Caleb: I hope you had a good day shopping. Are you heading back soon?

  My mind goes into a tailspin with what I could possibly say to get out of having to go back for dinner. Each time I start typing out my response, I quickly delete it, second-guessing myself. As uncomfortable as this is, it doesn’t even compare to what it would be if I joined them tonight.

  Me: Shopping was fun, but I’m back at the hotel with a horrible migraine. I don’t think I’ll be able to make it.

  It’s a little white lie—sure I did have a migraine, but the medicine has relieved me of the pain. Regardless, there’s no way I’m going, so I brace myself for his response, praying he’ll be understanding.

  Caleb: The chef has been here preparing everything for the past hour. What do you mean you aren’t going to come?

  Me: I can barely lift my head off the pillow. I feel awful because I know your parents put a lot into this dinner, but there is no way I can make it. Please tell them how sorry I am.

  I hate that I’m putting him in this position, but all I want to do is erase this day and forget it ever happened. I sit in bed and wait for his response, wait for the phone to ring, wait for anything.

  Nothing comes.

  How did this trip, which was going so perfect, turn into a nightmare?

  I nearly bleed my lip from biting it so much as I contemplate sending another text, I talk myself into it and out of it a dozen times before the door to the suite opens.