by M. H. Soars
“Of course not. I’m telling the truth. What kind of an idiot would claim to be someone they aren’t in this day and age when it’s so easy to prove otherwise?”
“Oh, no test is foolproof.” The lawyer leans forward, leveling Harry with a hard stare.
“You do realize you’ve accused the Jenkinses of kidnapping. They’ll go to jail for it,” I tell him.
“That’s why I never came forward until now. They’re both gone. Mum—I mean Mrs. Jenkins died three years ago. Mr. Jenkins died before Christmas.”
I rub my face as I try to process a story that has every single red flag possible. But what if this stranger is telling the truth? What if he is indeed Harry?
SAYLOR
My mind is reeling as I step into Adeline’s room. I wish Oliver had asked me join him at the meeting with the potential Harry. His grandma is lying on her bed, and Liv is adjusting the pillow for her. As I approach them, Adeline’s keen eyes lock with mine.
“Did you talk to him?”
“Oliver? Not really. He locked himself in with the lawyer and the man who claims to be Harry.”
“You don’t believe he’s my grandson?”
“I don’t know what I think. There’s nothing I want more than for Oliver to get his brother back, but I’m just too jaded. The timing is a little too convenient.”
“Yes, I have to agree with you.”
“How did Harry die, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Adeline’s gaze seems to turn inward as she stares ahead. “We don’t know all the details. He just vanished.”
“Vanished? I had always been under the impression that Harry died after being hit by a car. At least that’s the story Bas told me.” Liv moves to stand next to me.
Adeline shakes her head. “The police found Harry’s jacket soaked in blood tossed to the side of the road. They believe he was hit by a car, and the person responsible got rid of the body to not be implicated in the crime.”
A shudder runs down my spine. “So, it’s possible the man is telling the truth.”
“Yes. It’s possible,” Adeline replies before her face scrunches up.
“What is it?” I grab her ice-cold hand.
“My nerves are fried, darling. I’m an old lady. It’s too much excitement for one day.”
“Can I get you anything?”
She looks at me, her eyebrows furrowing. “I want you to stay close to your husband. Oliver is in a very fragile state, and Harry’s death has always been his weakness. It won’t take much for a con artist to dupe him. I want to believe the man downstairs is my grandson, but I wasn’t born yesterday.”
“Bas and I can stay longer too,” Liv says.
“That would be much appreciated. The more Oliver is surrounded by people who truly love him, the safer he will be.”
I can’t help the feeling of foreboding Adeline’s words bring. Despite the outcome of today’s revelations, I see a bumpy road ahead for Oliver and me.
Twenty-Nine
Saylor
Adeline’s words are still reverberating in my head as I run down the stairs. I’ve taken her advice to heart and, wanting it or not, Oliver has himself a clingy wife now. I don’t want to ever see him in that awful state he was when I found him in the tree house again.
I don’t care that he didn’t ask me join him in the study while he interviewed his maybe brother. My plan is to burst into that room regardless, but when I reach the end of the stairs, I catch a scene that makes my already agitated mood turn into a hurricane.
Charlotte is backed into a corner by her ex-boyfriend, and he’s all over her personal space.
What the actual fuck.
I’ve interacted enough with her to know something isn’t right. Charlotte is a firecracker; she wouldn’t tolerate that kind of behavior by anyone unless there’s more to the story.
I make a beeline toward the duo, catching the end of Joseph’s statement. “Come on, Char. Just a quickie for old time’s sake. No one will notice we’re gone.”
Charlotte turns her head when her ex tries to kiss her, and something inside of me snaps. I grab the back of his jacket’s collar and yank him off her. Taken by surprise, he doesn’t offer any resistance. He actually almost falls on his ass. Too bad he managed to catch his balance at the last moment.
“Get your filthy hands off her, creep,” I say.
“Who the fuck are you?” He glares at me.
“I’m Charlotte’s sister, and unless you want to lose a limb, I advise you to take your sorry ass out of this house before I let my dog have his way with you. I doubt anyone will miss you.”
“Oh, you’re the ‘popstar’ Oliver married.” The asshole actually uses air quotes. I almost laugh.
“Holy shit, did you just try to insult me? Honey, where I come from, we eat snobby assholes like you for breakfast.”
“Do you even know who I am?”
I put my hand over my chest. “Wait? Are you next in line for the throne? No? Oh I see, you’re just one of the has-been idiots still clinging to your family’s name because that’s the only thing you have left.”
I have no idea what I’m saying; I’m just going with what Oliver said to the man the first time we had the displeasure of crossing paths with him. It seemed to piss him off before, and it’s working again now. Joseph’s face turns bright red and his eyes spark with fury. Jackpot! He does have money issues.
“You know nothing about me, bitch.”
“I’m only going to say it one last time. Get. Out!”
He looks over my shoulder—at Charlotte, to be more precise—before he turns on his heel and stalks out the front door.
Good riddance.
“Thank you.” She walks around me, looking paler than a sheet of paper.
“It was a pleasure. Are you okay?”
She nods. “Not this very second, but I will be. I….” She looks down. “I hate that I can’t find my voice when he’s around. You must think I’m pathetic.”
“I don’t think that at all. Sometimes talking about things helps.”
She glances up again, her hazel eyes brighter than usual. “You have enough on your plate right now. Don’t worry about me.”
I know I won’t get Charlotte to open up, so I change the subject to the other big issue in our hands.
“How are you handling the whole Harry thing?”
“Shit. I don’t know what to think about that one. I don’t remember him. I was too young when the accident happened.”
“But do you think it’s possible?”
Charlotte glances down the hallway where Oliver is presently locked with the man. “Yes, I think it’s possible. No one would be crazy enough to claim to be someone they aren’t when there’s DNA testing now.”
“True. I was headed that way. Do you want to join me?”
She takes a deep breath and glances at me again. “I really should, but I don’t think I can handle more stressful situations right now. I’m going to rest for a little bit.”
“Okay then. I’ll come back later with more news.”
Charlotte heads up the stairs and I down the corridor. Before I can knock on the door, it opens wide. The lawyer comes out, not looking happy at all. He pauses when he sees me and I take the opportunity to quiz the man.
“What happened?”
“In all my years as a lawyer, I’ve never heard so much bullshit in my life.”
“So, you don’t think that man is Harry?”
“Oh, I didn’t say that. He could be your husband’s brother, but the story he told us? Too suspicious. I don’t buy it.”
“Why?”
“You don’t worry your pretty little head with it. Even if Harry has come back from the dead, you’ll still get a good chunk of the Best’s fortune.”
Did he just accuse me of being a gold digger?
“I didn’t marry Oliver for his money,” I say through clenched teeth.
“Sure you didn’t. I wasn’t born yesterday, sweetheart.”
I step back because I can’t stand to be that close to him.
“What’s going on here?” Oliver asks, looking from me to the lawyer.
I smile sardonically. “Nothing. I’m just making things clear to your lawyer.”
Oliver narrows his eyes, clenching his jaw hard as he stares at the man. “You have a job to do, Charles. Fucking go already.”
The lawyer straightens his jacket and leaves without another word.
Once he’s out of sight, Oliver touches my shoulder. “Are you okay, sugar?”
“Yes, I’m fine. Are you?”
He nods. “Considering everything, I am.”
I watch his face closely for any signs of that darkness I hate, finding none. I look over his shoulder into the study but don’t see anyone.
“Where’s the maybe Harry?”
“Maybe Harry?” Oliver smirks.
“Uh, well, I don’t know what to call him.”
“He’s gone already.”
“Oh.” I can’t keep the disappointment out of my voice. “I was hoping I could meet him.”
“In due time, sugar. I think it’s best to only introduce him to you once the DNA results come back.”
“You don’t think he’s telling the truth?”
“To be honest, I don’t know.”
Thirty
Saylor
The DNA results returned a week later. I wasn’t surprised when it revealed the man raised by the Jenkinses was in fact Harry Best. The lawyer broke the news to the family. He also said that the PI he hired to look into the guy’s past didn’t reveal anything shady. His story checked out. The Jenkinses indeed had a son named Simon Jenkins, and the PI couldn’t find any records that the child died. Because Oliver’s mom didn’t want the family’s name dragged into a scandal, she decided not to involve the police. Matters would be handled privately.
“What are the next steps?” Oliver asks after a few seconds of silence.
“I’m afraid there’s a lot of paperwork involved. There’s the matter of inheritance. Your father had a will, but with the sudden return of Harry, things will become more complicated. He isn’t mentioned in the will for obvious reasons, but he has grounds to contest it.”
“Why would he contest it? Charlotte and I will split our share equally with him. Right, Char?”
The girl who had been looking out the window, distracted, turns to her brother. “Yeah, sure. Whatever.”
“I’m awfully tired,” Oliver’s mom announces. “Charles, you take care of all the paperwork. I want to be done with this as quickly and painlessly as possible.”
“You don’t even sound excited to know your son is alive,” Oliver says.
“How dare you speak to me in that judgmental tone. I buried my son, I dealt with the grief of his passing, and I moved on. That man is a stranger to me.”
My jaw drops. She did not just say that. What kind of mother says that?
“You’re a piece of work. No wonder Harry preferred to stay with the Jenkinses.” Oliver’s body shakes as he tries to keep his voice down.
She levels him with a glare. “Don’t forget the part you played in his decision, son. I’m not the only one to blame.”
Oliver winces as if he was physically hit, making me see red. I stand up as fury crackles though my veins. He might feel the need to show some restraint out of respect, but I sure don’t. “You are a vile woman. You don’t deserve the children you have.”
“You insolent brat. I want you out of my house this instant.” Her eyes flash with so much hate, it almost makes my knees buckle. But I stand my ground. I’m tired of witnessing her throwing barbs at Oliver for no good reason aside from being a fucking bitch.
“This is not your house,” I say. I haven’t forgotten that bit of information Adeline dropped when I first met her.
Oliver stands as well, placing himself between me and his mother. “Sugar, it’s okay. She’s not worth it.”
I lock gazes with him, still frustrated as hell that I can’t kick the shit out his mother. I would love to give her a taste of my knuckle sandwich. Oliver’s eyes sparkle with pride and also raw desire.
Holy shit. Is he turned on by this confrontation?
Not saying another word, I turn on my heels and leave. I need fresh air. Oliver follows me, but before I can walk out the front door, he drags me into the powder room, locking us inside.
“Oliver, what are you doing?”
“I’m celebrating, sugar.” He grabs my face and kisses me long and hard.
Thoughts of escape and fresh air are forgotten. Who needs nature when I have Oliver Best instead? My hands find the button of his jeans, impatient all of a sudden. Then a vision of a similar moment invades my mind: Oliver and me, in another bathroom, kissing and touching like maniacs, frustration and desire mingling in my heart.
My hands stop, my lips freeze, and I take a step back. Oliver notices the sudden change in me immediately.
“Sugar, what’s wrong?”
“We’ve done this before.”
“You remembered something?”
“I-I think so.”
“What exactly?”
“Us going at each other in a bathroom of sorts.”
He curls his lips into a wicked grin. “Oh yeah. That was epic. You attacked me in a family restroom at LAX.”
“I did what?”
“Ah, sugar. It’s better if I show you what we did.”
He kisses me again while his hands get busy with my jeans. Definitely not the best outfit to be wearing for impromptu hookups in small bathrooms. With his help, I shimmy out of them, getting naked from the waist down. Oliver’s magical fingers are already on my pussy, teasing me beyond coherent thinking. I sit on the sink, opening my legs to grant him better access. He inserts one finger while his thumb applies pressure on my clit, but the hard edge of the marble sink is digging into my ass cheeks, preventing me from truly enjoying his ministrations.
“Ollie, as much as I’m loving this, this is not a very comfortable position for me.”
“How can I make it better, sugar?”
“Your cock deep inside of me sounds like a terrific idea.”
He frees his erection from the confines of his boxer shorts in the next second, burying it deep inside of me with a precise push. I have to bite his shoulder to muffle my cry of pleasure.
Oliver fucks me in that bathroom hard and fast, both of us coming within seconds of each other. And the best part is that the memory it brought forth stayed with me this time, vivid as ever.
I will remember us. Every single memory.
Thirty-One
Saylor
Oliver left soon after our hookup to visit his brother. I went back to the guesthouse for a shower and later decided to visit his grandma, since she missed the meeting with the lawyer. I doubt Oliver’s mom bothered to tell Adeline the news.
I find her sitting up on the bed, reading the same book of poetry she’s had by her side for the past week. The moment she looks at my face, she knows what I’m about to say.
“The DNA results are in?”
“Yes. It’s him. Harry is alive.”
Closing the book, she shuts her eyes for a brief moment. “Then I suppose I need to get my arse out of this bed and greet my grandson properly.”
“Maybe Oliver can bring him here. You shouldn’t tire yourself.”
“We’ll see. How did Ollie take the news?”
Heat rushes to my cheeks and I avert my gaze. “Uh, quite well, actually.”
“Quite well, you say, huh? And that blushing?”
I cover my cheeks with my hands, hating how my face always betrays me.
“What blush?”
> “Oh, darling, you don’t need to feel embarrassed around me. I know all about the birds and the bees.” She laughs. “I sure hope all this celebration will yield a little Best before I depart this world.”
Fuck a duck. Is she talking about babies now? That hadn’t even crossed my mind.
“You’re not leaving us any time soon,” I say, not willing to get into the baby talk. There’s so much I want to do before I even begin to contemplate having a kid—getting my memories back, for instance.
“Yeah, yeah. So, have you met him yet?”
“No. Oliver didn’t want me to meet him before the test came back. Understandable, of course. He went to see him now.”
Now that we know without a doubt that Simon Jenkins is really Harry Best, a ball of anxiety unfurls in my stomach. There’s so much I don’t know about Oliver’s past.
“You look concerned. Tell me what’s on your mind, child.”
“How was Oliver’s relationship with Harry?”
“What you can expect from a relationship between two brothers. They loved each other, but due to the age gap, they fought a lot too. Four years is a big difference when you’re young. As Oliver grew older, he didn’t care much for Harry tagging along.”
“They quarreled right before the accident. That’s why Oliver carried so much guilt for so long.”
“Yes. And my son and his wife didn’t make things easier for him either. They blamed the boy too. I know it’s not right to speak ill of the dead, but my son was a terrible father.”
“When he asked to speak with Oliver, I thought he wanted to wish him happy birthday. Instead, he told Oliver he wished he had died instead of Harry.”
I regret my words the moment I see the effect on Adeline’s face. “He did what?”
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”
With shaking hands, Adeline reaches for the glass of water on her nightstand. “That vile man. I would kill him if he wasn’t dead already. I can’t believe I raised that monster.”
