Grace: A Disgrace Trilogy Novel

by Dee Palmer

  “Perhaps this wasn’t such a great idea.” I quirk my mouth in a tight pinch.

  “It was a great fucking idea until he ruined it,” he sniffs out, his words derisive and his whole demeanour heavy with accusation.

  “He hasn’t ruined it,” I counter. “You’re wrong…I’m sure. He’s been nothing but helpful and brotherly to me all week. Nothing ‘inappropriate’. He hasn’t even flirted, and it’s not like I don’t know he finds me attractive.” I think really hard about any incident that might contradict my disclosure, only I’m drawing a blank. Will has been the perfect gentleman. “No, I’m sure you’re mistaken.” My mind is comforted with this memory; my heart, on the other hand, is a riotous mess of emotion. God, I hope Jason isn’t right.

  “You think that, if it gives you comfort, beautiful, but I know my brother, and I want you on the first plane after the all-clear from the doctor, understand?” he states flatly.

  “Is that an order?” I challenge with a wry twist to my lips.

  “Yes…yes, it is,” he confirms with a rumble I can feel in my core.

  “Then, yes, Sir, I completely understand.”

  Will was quiet the next day, and I thought it was best to leave him to it, whatever ‘it’ was. The day after that, however, he was back to being his charming and easy-going self. I completely relaxed back into our comfortable routine and shook my head with exasperation when Jason continued to worry about my virtue at the hands of his brother. I dismissed his concern but didn’t tease him, because jealousy is no joking matter. It can be corrosive when left unchecked and we both have little green monsters just perching in the background, waiting to consume and destroy.

  Talking of destroying….

  Will throws his Xbox controllers down with barely contained rage, and I puff out my chest and hold my hands up in a whoop-whoop celebration.

  “Undefeated! Will, you may now kiss the ground I walk on and call me Mrs Master Chief.” I laugh out, as I once again, kick his arse at Halo.

  “I’d rather call you, Mrs Sinclair.” My heart clenches because I can’t wait for that too, when I turn my eager and beaming face toward him, his looks so serious, I get a nasty twist in my gut. His eyes search mine, and I pretend to not recognize what his gaze is so desperately trying to convey. I choose to misinterpret and ignore.

  “I’m looking forward to that too, so how about the sooner you take me to my doctor’s appointment, the sooner I can get back to my fiancé.” I hold out my hand for him to help me up. His face drops with disappointment. I just can’t go there, and I pray, for the love of all that is holy, he doesn’t either.

  “Sure.” I let his hand go before he can pull me any closer, and I skip off to my room. I make a quick change of clothes into a long, floaty summer dress and cardigan, because the temperature is warm but not hot, and I grab my over-the-shoulder handbag. Will waits by the door with his keys, which he is swinging nervously from one hand to the next.

  “You’re making me nervous, Will, what with the key jangling and serious face. It’s just a check-up not the firing squad. Any luck and I’ll be out of your hair by nightfall.” I pat his cheek lightly.

  “Nightfall?” His voice is pitched and panic flashes across his handsome face.

  “I promised Jason I would try to get the first standby flight once I get the all-clear. It might be tomorrow realistically, but I have my bag packed just in case.” I explain with uninhibited enthusiasm.

  “You’ve packed already. Can’t wait to get away, eh?” His voice is quiet and he tries for a playful tone.

  “Well, you are seriously crap at Halo,” I tease and nudge his side as I pass through the door, trying to lighten the mood that has descended like a dark cloud across his features.

  I sign in at the clinic and am called straight through. Will stands to accompany me, slipping his hand through mine. I don’t see the harm, and if I’m honest, I’m a little nervous and welcome the comfort.

  “So how have you been?” The doctor scans his notes, and I wait for him to look up. It isn’t the doctor from the hospital, but I have seen him before. He has kind, grey eyes and is much younger than the other one.

  “I have been good. Lots of rest and I feel great.” I tuck my hands beneath my thighs and bounce with agitation. The doctor smiles but he doesn’t comment.

  “Other than the dizziness you mean,” Will adds and I snap my head and comically drop my mouth wide open. Only there is nothing funny about his comment.

  “What?” I splutter.

  “You have had several dizzy spells.” He tilts his head with sympathy and looks seriously at the doctor.

  “I haven’t had any dizzy spells.” My head whips between the two men.

  “That you remember,” Will adds with such condescension I want to slap that warm and fake compassion right off his face; however, I don’t want to add hysterics to my misdiagnosis.

  “Doctor, I haven’t had any dizzy spells.” I scowl at Will, who is sporting the best poker face this side of Vegas. “I am perfectly fit to travel.”

  “I never said you weren’t,” Will answers for the doctors only he continues to distort the truth. “I just worry who would be liable if you were to travel and something terrible happened.” I see the doctor’s eyes widen and his pale colour fade to translucent at the mention of liability.

  “I would like you to come back for a scan, Ms Bonfleur. I don’t think such a long plane ride would be appropriate. Not until I’m satisfied there will be no other dizzy spells.” He smiles at me but it doesn’t reach his eyes. I think he’s still pondering Will’s worst-case scenario.

  “There weren’t any dizzy spells.” I force the words out through my clench jaw and notice Will slide a little further away. Not fucking far enough.

  “I can book you in on Friday.” The doctor glances at his screen and pulls up a calendar.

  “You mean today, Friday?” I look at the screen which is covered with big red ‘booked’ comments in each of the blocks on every time slot.

  “No, sorry. Next Friday. I would like to make sure you have no other spells this week. So, if you could keep an extra close eye and if anything unusual happens, don’t hesitate to come back in or call 911.” The doctor hands me an envelope with my appointment. I snatch it from his hand and don’t bother to say a single word as I storm out. I fear nothing but Anglo-Saxon profanity would pass my lips and there are children nearby.

  I lean up against Will’s car, seething. I feel rage, anger, and fucking astonishment in every pore in my body, seeping out of my cells. He approaches with a wide casual gait and a triumphant grin on his face.

  “What the fuck was that?” I snarl, hands on my hips, fingertips gripping my flesh to stop them curling into fists and lashing out.

  “What? You did get dizzy the other day remember, when you stubbed your toe?” He frowns, and his face is the picture of innocence. Man, I would never like to play cards with him.

  “No, I wobbled and sat on a stool because Lucifer himself had stuck his poker under my toenail. I was in agony. I wasn’t dizzy!” I scream at him—howl more like—having lost my tentative hold on decorum now that we were in a half empty car park.

  “Oh I’m sorry. Only I thought you were going to black out.” He maintains this charade, and my hands do find themselves in balled up angry fists.

  “Well, I was, from the pain, you arsehole, not from my head injury!” I punch him full in the shoulder, and he stumbles back, not anticipating the strength of the impact. He saw it coming but didn’t brace.

  “The doctor only did what he thought was for the best.” He holds his hands up, and I actually do a double take. Really? He said that? I step forward, and this time he straightens his back and draws in a deep breath. I poke my finger into his chest to punctuate each of my next words.

  “You told him spells, plural, and then laid the liability card at his nervous feet. There was no fucking way he was going to sign me off after that, and you know it! Why?” I drill the tip of my finger righ
t into the hard muscle of his pec on my question. His hand wraps around my digit. I know that will bruise. I try to pull my hand free, he lifts it to his lips and his eyes soften. His face changes and—oh fuck—I have seen that look before. I love that look, I crave that look like my next breath, just not from him. “Don’t.” My voice breaks, and I try again to pull my hand back.

  “What are you afraid of?” His voice is deep and coaxing, but it feels all wrong, so wrong.

  “Not what you think I’m afraid of, that’s for sure.” I quip and he lightly shakes his head.

  “Really?” The cocky quirk of his brow is misplaced.

  “I’m afraid if Jason finds out what you’ve done. The first time I meet your parents won’t be at my wedding, it will be at your funeral.” I manage to pull my hand free this time and climb into the car. I slam the door and fix my eyes on the road ahead. If I didn’t feel dizzy before, I certainly do now. My heart is hammering and breaking all at once. This isn’t happening. Please don’t let this be happening.

  The drive home is excruciating, the silence deafening, and the tension is like a fucking powder keg between us. He pulls up the sandy drive and kills the engine. He draws in a breath to say something, and I rush to speak. I need to get this in first.

  “Don’t. Please for the love of everything, don’t.” I hold his gaze for a second too long, and the pain and hurt buried deep flash to the front and I swallow back a choked sob. Shit. This is happening. I need to not be here. I leap from the car and take the porch steps two at a time, slamming through the screen door and unlocking the main one. I run to my bedroom and start to fling the last of my clothes into my case. Moments later, Will appears at my door and silently takes in the carnage of flying clothes and hastily thrown shoes and toiletries. There’s no careful folding, no double bagging of creams and gels. If it fits, it’s coming with me; if it doesn’t, I don’t care. I’m leaving today.

  “Please don’t go.” His voice is so soft, I barely hear it yet it pulls me up cold all the same.

  “I can’t stay, Will.” He steps into the room and grabs my elbows, holding me, just that look on his face has me transfixed. He’s so handsome, and he looks absolutely heartbroken. This is killing me. How the fuck did this shit-storm happen without me seeing it? There was no cloud or even the slightest drop of rain to indicate to me that the look he is unashamedly levelling at me is justified. The other night… I get the other night; I should’ve seen it for what it was then. Jason did. Fuck!

  “Sam, I—” He breaks momentarily, only to then steady himself.

  “Don’t say it!” I blurt and shake my head. Like that will stop him; the determination on his face is almost as fixed as that look of…

  “I love you.” Powerful words, so wholly out of place.

  “And you said it.” I exhale with utter sadness.

  “I love you. I’ve wanted to say it for a long time, and I’ll say it again. I love you, Sam.” His lips twitch sadly, failing to break into even the slightest of smiles. The situation is too damn tragic for that.

  “Please stop. Will, you don’t love me. You don’t know me. I love Jason…your brother. I love him more than anything, more than my next breath, more than my life. He is my everything.” I rush to explain. I don’t want to hurt him, although I can see as clear as day every word slices him raw. But he has to understand.

  “I know. Still you can’t help who you fall in love with, and I had to tell you. I’d regret it for the rest of my life if I didn’t” His hand moves to my cheek. Warm strong hands hold me and I close my eyes and sigh.

  “You might regret it for the rest of your life now that you have,” I point out and he shrugs.

  “I’ll never be sorry I told you, but I’m sorry about today. I panicked when you said you would be leaving. I just wanted more time with you to…to…” He frowns like he is struggling for the right words. There are no right words.

  “To what?” I take his hand from my face and hold it in both of mine.

  “More time for you to fall in love with me,” he states simply, his eyes still hold hope in the unasked question.

  “Jesus.” I drop my head to his chest, and the rapid beat of his heart matches mine, thump after heartbreaking thump. “I do love you, Will. It’s just, I will never love you the way you want me to, the way I love Jason. That’s not possible. He’s my lobster.” I shake his hand and try desperately to make this better.

  “He doesn’t even like shellfish. I’m the one that likes lobster,” he mutters, offering a resigned shrug and an empty smile. I’ll take it. “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to go home.” I confirm, soft but firm.

  “And?”

  “And I’m going to tell Jason I got the all clear.”

  “And?” he pushes.

  “If he asks, I will tell him, Will. I won’t lie to him. However, if I can at all help it, I won’t tell him the whole truth either. Because I wasn’t joking about your funeral.” His sad smile barely moves his mouth, but his face softens.

  “I know…I’d be the same. He’s a very lucky man.” He drags his hand through his shaggy hair and puffs out a slow breath.

  “And I’m a very lucky woman. I have three amazing men in my life and you all own a piece of my heart.” I hold his hand to my heart for a moment before letting it fall away. “You have to understand, my soul will only ever belong to Jason.”

  I feel like shit for the entire nine-hour flight. I have felt sick and so fucking tired. I can’t sleep. I keep playing every minute of the last weeks over and over, wondering if I led him on. Made him think there was ever a chance. I asked him as I hugged him at the departures gate, and he looked shocked that I would suggest such a thing. I fucking hate that he is hurting like he is because of me, when I didn’t have a clue. Not until it was too late.

  I spot Jason instantly when I emerge through the arrival doors, and I leave my trolley, and in full-on Love Actually mode, I fling myself into his waiting arms. His mouth captures mine, and I die happy. His arms feel like home, his smell is intoxicating, and he tastes like heaven on my lips. I’m emotional enough to blame the stupid baby hormones, but honestly, I’m just overwhelmed, and the tears trickle unchecked down my flight puffy cheeks. He slides me down his body and takes my hand, walking back to retrieve my abandoned trolley.

  “Glad to be home?” he teases, just as breathless from kissing as I am.

  “Understatement of the fucking century.”

  “Did Will not take good care of you? Because if he neglected you—”

  “Will was perfect. Still, I couldn’t be happier than I am now… right here.” My voice softens and I let out a huge relieved sigh.

  “What happened?” I jolt to a stop, and he turns me to look directly into his searching eyes. He cups either side of my face; there is no escaping the scrutiny. I pause, holding the intensity of his gaze, and try to think of something to say. Something that will explain this utter clusterfuck, but I know from trying to come up with something for the last nine hours another few minutes will also leave me mute on the subject. Lucky for me, Jason speaks before I have to.

  “He fell in love with you.” It sounded like a statement even as he waits silently for an answer. How does he do that?

  “Yes.” I try and offer a light shrug as I feel a dark cloud descend.

  “Motherfucker!” he growls, only for his lips turn up in a half smile, when he adds with a flippant tone, “I can’t really blame him for that.”

  “You’re not mad?” I tilt my head and frown, utterly unconvinced at his casual attitude.

  “I’m fucking furious. I said I couldn’t blame him. I didn’t say I wouldn’t rip his bollocks off next time I see him.” Ah yes, that’s more what I was expecting.

  “That won’t be necessary. We’re cool, I made my position perfectly clear.”

  “What position is that exactly?” His voice drops an octave, heavy with sensual undertones. I smile sweetly.

  “I have several actual
ly, and you on top of me would be my first position of choice.” His lips crush mine and he moans into the kiss, but pulls away before we get carried away.

  “So, that is another one off our playmates list,” he quips, and I lift my head and shrug.

  “It would seem so.” Our extracurricular playtime is hot as hell. Don’t get me wrong, but it’s not everything; he…he is my everything.

  “Well, there will be no need to rip his bollocks off then, because that is punishment enough in my book.”

  “Scooch up, beautiful.” After dinner, I ran a deep and bubbly bath, and left her to soak and relax after a long flight and an even longer welcome home. I cleared the debris in the kitchen, but that is more than enough time of not touching her. The last two weeks have been an ultimate test of my endurance. If I wasn’t weighed down at work with Daniel on paternity leave, or still getting daily cryptic emails from who-the-fuck-knows about Sam’s video, I would’ve flown straight back the day after I landed. She’s my life, and I won’t pretend I found the separation frequently unbearable. The video calls and texts throughout the day helped. I also thought that Will was taking good care of her and that was a huge comfort…was being the operative word because that certainly bit me in the arse. Still, she’s home now, and soon, she’s going to be Mrs Sinclair. Very soon as it happens. I need to mention that. I tug my shirt over my head and kick my pants down, having gone commando, and with no socks, I am good to go. Her eyes widen, then her lids droop, and she drags her tongue over her lips, and my cock thickening with a surge of heat and blood.

  She pouts, and an adorable wrinkle settles on the bridge of her nose when I cup myself and step in behind her, shaking my head. We made love for fucking hours when we got home. We had to; I was literally dying, and she was insatiable. Nevertheless, it was me who stopped because I remembered she needs to eat and keep her strength since it’s not just her anymore. She’s taking care of herself and my baby.