The Beginning After

by Kiersten Modglin

  He held up his hand. “I think you can call me Clay by now.” He smiled at her jokingly.

  “Clay, can I tell you something in confidence?”

  “Is it about your husband’s case?”

  “Yes—err, no. I’m not one hundred percent sure either way, to be honest. Maybe?”

  “I can’t keep anything about the case to myself, Peighton, I’m sorry. It’s my job to find out the truth about your husband’s death. So, if there’s something you need to tell me…I would certainly hope that you would.”

  She paused, her last hope crumpled. “It’s nothing. I’m just…a little scared, I guess.”

  “Would you like me to stay with you tonight?” he asked, his voice low. She looked up at him, his face looking as if he’d shocked himself with the question. “To help keep watch, I mean.”

  “Is that allowed?” she asked.

  “I’m off-duty,” he replied. “What I do tonight is my business.” She felt heat rush to her cheeks at his words, pressing her hands to them quickly. “I mean…” He cleared his throat. “Well, you know, I only mean that I can do whatever I want tonight. Including, keeping you company, if that’s what you want.”

  “I’d like that,” she said honestly.

  “Well, then it’s settled.” He walked over to the door, locking the deadbolt. “We’ll make sure that door doesn’t set off any more alarms, first of all. And then, I can sit up and keep an eye on things if you’d like to go back to bed.”

  “If there’s one thing my momma taught me, Clay, it’s that it’s impolite to sleep while you have company over.” She smiled at him, for the first time allowing herself to really take a closer look at this man, her protector. His buzz-cut hair and strong jaw, the slightly crooked nose and small smile; he was exactly the opposite of her perfect husband. Todd had been what she’d often called “perfectly handsome.” Perfectly everything, in fact. His head full of beautiful, thick dark hair, his sea-green understanding eyes, porcelain skin, and movie-star grin made him a perfect candidate for any office he’d run for: councilman, mayor, and senator. He could’ve been president one day, and they’d often joked that he would. He had a face people could trust and he genuinely cared about those he could help. Thinking about her husband made her feel guilty about having Clay there. She lowered her head.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, sensing the change in her mood.

  “Nothing,” she said quickly. “Maybe I’m just being silly. I’m not sure this is such a good idea after all. You really don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

  He walked to the couch, running his hand along the arm. “Who said I don’t want to?” When she didn’t answer, he approached her. “Peighton?”

  She shrugged. “Yeah?”

  “What do you think this is?” he asked, pulling her chin up to meet his gaze.

  She felt the heat rush to her face. “What do you mean?”

  “Do you think I’m trying to come onto you?” he asked, straight to the point.

  “I don’t…I mean, uh, well, no. I mean, I don’t—” She couldn’t even make her thoughts make sense, let alone her words.

  “Because I’m not. I wouldn’t. You lost your husband barely two weeks ago. You’re not ready, and even if you were, I’m not that kind of guy. More than that, I’m the officer leading the investigation into his death. It would be completely unethical for me to be interested in you. I could lose my job. So, to be clear, I’m here to protect you because you’re home alone and you’re scared. Over the past few weeks, I feel like I’ve grown to know you a bit and I care for your wellbeing. That’s all this is.”

  “Oh. Of course.” She nodded, feeling like a child who’d been scolded.

  “I don’t say this to hurt you, Peighton. I just want you to know that you have nothing to worry about with me here. Nothing to feel guilty about,” he stressed his words, “I’m not here to be your husband or to try to overstep. I’m doing my job, that’s it.”

  She frowned, sucking in a breath. “I didn’t mean to make you think—”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong. I can just tell you’re worried something is going to happen. Something that wouldn’t be okay. I wanted to ease your mind a bit. I know how this might look but I can assure you it’s innocent.” He turned from her, taking a seat on the couch. “Now, come sit down and we can watch some crappy two a.m. television together.” He patted the seat next to him, propping his feet up on the ottoman.

  She grinned sheepishly, trying to hide her shame and followed his lead, sitting down at the other end of the couch. As if to make matters worse, they reached for the remote at the same time, their hands brushing. She pulled her hand back too quickly. “You make me nervous,” she blurted out.

  He stared at her, a smirk on his face. “I never would have guessed.”

  “I know. I’m not subtle. Todd always teased me about that. I can’t hide anything that I feel. And right now, I’m really nervous. And maybe saying that out loud makes me look ditzy or weird or…I don’t know…like a silly little girl, but it’s how I feel. And, well, I just wanted you to know that.”

  He raised his eyebrows, rubbing his jaw slightly. “Are you done?”

  “Yes,” she said indignantly.

  “All right then.” He grabbed hold of the remote, flicking the TV on. After a few minutes of silence had passed, he spoke again, this time so quiet she wasn’t sure she’d heard it at first. “Brave.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Brave,” he repeated, looking at her without turning his head completely. “That’s what that makes you.” She stared at him, not sure what to say. “You know, talking about how you feel and all that…my wife always said that makes you brave. I’m no good at it but I wouldn’t call you ditzy or weird or any of that other crap. I’d say brave. Maybe a bit neurotic,” he smirked at her, “but brave nonetheless.”

  Ten

  CLAY

  Okay, so Clay hadn’t told Peighton the truth about everything, so what? How could he? She wouldn’t understand. Not yet. What mattered now was that he kept his head on straight. Stuck to the plan.

  He stared into the television without really watching it, painstakingly aware of Peighton a mere foot away from him on the couch. Her eyes had begun closing, the times they were open growing further and further apart, so he knew she would be asleep soon. When he finally saw her eyes close without opening for several minutes, he knew his chance had come. He stood up cautiously, careful not to wake her. The leather squeaked as his weight left the couch, but she didn’t stir.

  He stood, staring at her for a moment too long. She was beautiful, in a slightly unconventional way. Her head rested on her shoulder, a position that looked slightly uncomfortable, but he didn’t dare move her. Her light brown hair hung over her face, shaking a bit with every breath she took. Underneath her heavy lids, he imagined the dark brown eyes he’d spent so much time agonizing over the past few days. The sleeve of her robe had fallen down, exposing the bare skin of her shoulder, and he had to shake his head to pull his gaze away.

  He turned, walking out of the living room, up the stairs, and down the hallway toward the office Peighton had showed him days before. He put his hand to the bronze knob, turning it slowly. He heaved a sigh of relief when he heard the latch click, felt the door release. He pushed the door open, holding his breath when it creaked slightly. He froze, listening. When he was sure he didn’t hear anyone coming, he snuck in the room, pushing the door behind him without closing it.

  He flicked on the light, looking around. The office was simple, neat. The Senator had a few stacks of papers lying on his desk, ones he had determined unimportant. He flicked through the pages, looking for her name. When he didn’t find it, he opened a drawer in the desk, sorting through pens, paperclips, and sticky notes. It wouldn’t have killed the man to use an organizer.

  Still finding nothing of use, he closed the drawer and pulled at the next one. He pulled out a stack of pictures, sorting through them quickly. A f
ew were from what looked to be a family vacation to Disneyworld, some of the boy with the nanny, Isabel, some with the Senator, Peighton, and their bodyguard, Frank. They looked happy, he observed. Each of the pictures looked as though it could’ve come from a magazine. He stopped, taking a second longer look at a picture of Peighton and her late husband at the beach, Peighton’s wiry arms wrapped around him. He was staring at her, a huge smile on his face. He couldn’t help but notice the green string bikini she wore, and how tightly it clung to her curves. I’d be smiling like that too.

  The door whipped open suddenly, causing him to throw the stack of pictures. They spiraled down, like money at a strip club. He stared into the doorway, into her shocked stare.

  “Clay, what are you doing in here?” she asked him, crossing her arms.

  “I was looking for the bathroom,” he lied, but it was no use. Her expression told him plainly she wasn’t buying it.

  She darted toward him, snatching the pictures from the ground heatedly. “You’re going through my husband’s things. You have no right! How dare you? You said you were just here to help me. Well, that was all a lie, wasn’t it? You were just using me, waiting for your moment, huh?”

  “That’s not what this is, Peighton,” he told her, bending to help her pick up the mess he’d made.

  “Then what is it? Huh? You and the other officers, you already got everything you needed from his office. I gave you permission to take whatever you needed then. So, what could you possibly need from his office now? And why would you have to sneak to get it?”

  “If you’ll just let me explain,” he began, with no real earthly idea how he could explain anything.

  “Go on then.” She stopped, holding the pictures in her hands and staring into his eyes. “Explain.” He stared at her, her dark chocolate eyes burning a hole into him, but he couldn’t say a word. There was nothing he could tell her to explain this away without blowing the whole thing. When he didn’t answer, she stood up. “I want you out of my house,” she said firmly, opening the door.

  “Peighton, don’t do that. I was just being nosy. Trying to find out more about you,” he confessed finally, a half-truth.

  “What could you possibly want to know about me that you couldn’t just ask?” She dropped a hand from her hip, a bit of her wall coming down.

  “I wanted…” he paused, thinking quickly. His jaw grew tight as he realized his only way out. It was a long shot, but he was too tired to talk himself out of it. He was going for it. “I wanted to see how he looked at you.”

  “W-what?” she asked, her eyes wide.

  “I wanted to see how he looked at you, okay? How happy you were together. I needed to see what you looked like when you were with him.”

  “But why? For the investigation?”

  “No.”

  “Then why?” she demanded, her voice raising. “Why would you need to see that, Clay?”

  Dropping the pictures in his hand, he walked toward her, grabbing hold of the back of her head, their faces only inches apart. “Because I thought it would give me a reason not to do this.” With that, he pressed his mouth onto hers, his whole body igniting. She dropped her stack of pictures, wrapping her arms around him with passion. He lifted her up, forcing her legs around his waist and pressed her against the door. It slammed backwards, causing him to stumble forward, but they didn’t miss a beat. He ran kisses from her lips to her jawline before venturing to her neck, biting her gently.

  “We should stop,” she whispered breathlessly.

  “Yeah, we should,” he said in between kisses, moving back up to her mouth. He stepped back from the door, lifting her up to get a better grip. He glanced at her then, her cheeks red, hair wild, sexy as hell. She leaned back in, kissing him again, running her long fingers over his scalp.

  He carried her down the hallway, his footsteps heavy. “We shouldn’t do this,” she said again, though that didn’t stop her from moving her kisses down his collarbone. She moved her hands to the buttons on his shirt, trying to open it. “You could get in trouble.”

  “Yeah, I could,” he said, pushing her bedroom door open and locking eyes on her bed. The moonlight danced on the bed as her curtains swayed.

  “Are we stopping?” she asked, hopping down from his arms and continuing to unbutton his shirt.

  “Not a chance,” he said, his voice a low growl as he grabbed hold of her robe and ripped it open. He stared at her, the light barely highlighting her curves. She pulled his shirt off and they fell into the bed at once, his whole body aching for her. She was his. He ran kisses all down her body, exploring every part of her. She groaned with each move he made, pure ecstasy on her face.

  As he slipped off his pants, keeping one hand on her breast, he kissed her again, aching to fill her. He’d had three jobs: find out the truth about the murder, catch the killer, and leave Peighton Claiborne the hell alone. As he climbed on top of her, his skin on fire, he cursed himself. Well, hell, two out of three.

  Eleven

  FRANK, 2016

  Frank looked up from his desk just as the front door to his office opened. A woman walked in, she was dressed in a dark gray pant suit, a wide brim hat, and sunglasses on her head. She shut the door behind her, looking directly at him. She reached up, pulling her sunglasses and hat off and stuffing them in her oversized bag.

  “Hello,” Frank greeted her, standing up from his desk. “Can I help you?”

  “Yes, I hope so.” She approached his desk and held out her hand. “I’m looking for a private investigator. Your sign says security. I was hoping you could help or at least point me in the right direction.”

  He nodded, gesturing for her to take a seat before he did. “I’m Frank,” he said. “I run this company. I have experience in all things security, including private investigation, but I’m guessing you knew that.”

  She smiled at him slyly, not completely confirming what he already knew.

  “Who sent you?” he asked.

  “A good friend of mine. She said you’re the best.”

  “She’d be right about that,” he told her, leaning back in his chair. “What’s your name?”

  “Do I have to give you that?” she asked, a worried look on her face.

  “Well, it’d be nice to have something to call you, Miss…?”

  When she didn’t answer, he lowered his voice. “What kind of investigation is this?” he asked. “Nothing illegal?”

  “No,” she assured him, “not illegal, just embarrassing. I don’t want anyone to know that I’m here. Or why I’m here. I need your utmost discretion. I’m willing to pay whatever you’ll charge.” She reached in her purse, pulling out a white envelope and sliding it across his desk.

  Frank took hold of it, opening it cautiously while keeping an eye on her. He sucked in a breath as he realized the envelope was full of cash, mostly hundreds. He smiled, sticking it in his desk drawer and placing his folded hands on his desk. “All right, Miss Doe, what can I do for you today?”

  She pulled out a picture of a man and slid it across his desk. He looked vaguely familiar, but Frank couldn’t put his finger on why. “I need to know if my husband is having an affair.” It was then that she leaned back, unbuttoning the oversized jacket she wore, allowing the small bump to protrude from under her shirt. She placed her hand on her stomach, looking down at it and then back up to Frank. “And I need to know soon.”

  Twelve

  PEIGHTON

  When Peighton awoke, she was surprised to feel someone beside her. She rolled over with a jolt, only slightly relieved when she saw Clay lying there. She pulled the sheet up from under his arm, trying to cover herself more. He rolled over, stretching across the bed. He lifted his head up, readjusting the pillow and flopping back down.

  “Well, it’s a little late to cover up now, Ace.”

  “I can’t believe we did that,” she admitted, pulling the sheet to her chin.

  He rubbed his hand over his bare stomach, yawning. “Yeah, not our smarte
st move.”

  She let out a snort, biting her lip. “Not by far.” They laid in silence for a while, both staring at each other. “So, you should probably go, right?” she asked awkwardly.

  He propped himself up on his side, his head resting in his palm, a grin on his face. “Are you kicking me out?”

  “I mean, I just thought you’d have work to do or something. Plus, I have a few errands to run later so I won’t be around much.”

  “And you don’t want me to be around when your son or your housekeeper get here, right?” He smirked. “Throw me my shirt, will ya?”

  She threw it to him. “No. They can’t see you, especially Kyle. He can’t know about this, not right now. He’d never forgive me.”

  “Say no more,” he said, standing up and looking around for the bottom half of his clothes. She looked away, trying the cover the blush she felt warming her cheeks. “I didn’t say you can’t look.” She giggled.

  “Oh, just put your pants on, you big show-off.” She grabbed them from the floor and tossed them to him, holding the sheet tight around her. He caught them with one hand, pulling them on. She bent over her nightstand, pulling a pair of shorts out of a drawer and slipping them on under her sheet. She then let the sheet fall, turning her back to him and pulling her shirt over her head. He walked around the bed to face her.

  “Don’t worry about anyone finding out, okay? We both have a lot to lose if that were to happen. So, I think we can just agree that this was a one-time thing, a slightly stupid, yet fun, lapse in judgement, and we don’t have to ever speak of it again.”

  She nodded. “I think that’s for the best.”

  He bent down, touching her chin. “Just one last thing before we go back to being strangers again.” His lips brushed her forehead before moving to her mouth. It was over before she was ready. She sighed quietly as he made his way to the door, pulling it open.