Private

by Xavier Neal

  “Before her last episode,” Matt begins, carefully choosing each word. “I expressed my concern that maybe it wasn't a coincidence. That possibly the illness was being introduced into her system on purpose.”

  “Poison?” I whisper.

  “No one is poisoning, Lauren,” Wes insists. “No one would purposely want to hurt one of the only people in the estate who genuinely cares about everyone.”

  “But what if someone is!”

  My shriek is met with a less than sympathetic look. “Not possible.”

  “Oh because nothing bad ever happens in the Count Chocolate's Castle!” His mouth twitches to reply yet I beat him to it. “What happened to trusting whatever Matt had to say? Believing him. What, we only believe him when it aligns with what you believe?!”

  “Stop yelling at me.”

  “Stop being stubborn!”

  “Stop assuming you know more about the people who have lived here longer than you've held a steady job!”

  The low blow drops my jaw and I growl, “Stop assuming everyone is as innocent as your sex life has been the last decade!”

  “Enough!” Matt jumps in the middle of the fray. When heated attention flings his direction he states, “At this time we cannot confirm or deny it was poison nor can we confirm or deny if it was intentional. Maybe it was an accident. Maybe it was an exotic spice being used that her body is rejecting-”

  “Lucky's been experimenting with new recipes,” Wes interjects.

  “Maybe a dish cleaner-”

  “Clark would know about that. He had been handling her responsibilities while she was resting. Maybe he ordered the wrong one.”

  “Or maybe it's poison,” I sneer.

  “Goddamn it, Bryn! No one is trying to kill Lauren!”

  “Hey!” Matt barks again. “There are many maybes and what ifs right now. All I know for certain is that as of right now, no one is to enter that room aside from me until I get some results.”

  Wes clears his throat. “I'll let J.T. know to reprogram the door again.”

  “How long this time?” I quietly question.

  He gives me a small shrug and slides his hands in his pockets. “As of right now, I can't give you that answer.”

  My eyes fight the urge to water.

  “I'm sorry, Brynley.” Another sigh escapes before he adds, “I'll keep the two of you informed of the results and any other findings.”

  “Thanks, Matt.”

  “Thank you, Doctor.”

  He slips past the two of us and the minute he's out of earshot, Wes tries to assure, “This was all just an accident.”

  Too enraged and distressed to continue looking at him let alone talking to him, I simply whisper, “Let's fucking hope so.” I don't bother sticking around for a follow-up or explanation. Wes' voice echoes behind me as he calls my name out again and again in an attempt to stop me from storming off. With his voice fading behind me, I let the tears I had been holding at bay finally swarm my eyes while disheartenment digs deep into my bones. I don't blame him for the death of my father, but if she dies while under the care of his doctor in his mansion under his protection I will hold him accountable in a way that will make the last ten years seem like a goddamn pleasure cruise.

  “Are you even listening to me?” J.T.'s voice invades my melancholy thoughts.

  I turn in my office chair, the chair just a couple days ago that was filled with a quivering and quaking piece of heaven. The realization there isn't a place in the estate I can't go without my mind racing towards Brynley further adds to my foul mood.

  “By your lack of answer, I'm going to go with, no.”

  Adjusting in my seat, I apologize. “Sorry. It's just been a rough few days.”

  “Because of the situation with Lauren.”

  I don't bother replying. She's better than the day she passed out. She finally got the feeling back in her mouth this morning, but that's where the good news train aborts. Her fever is still lingering, he's having difficulty keeping her properly hydrated, and we have no definite answers yet. The tests Matt ran, even with rushed lab requests still won't be back until tomorrow.

  “Have you tried talking to Brynley again?”

  “No,” Clark answers for me entering the room with a plate of food. “And he hasn't eaten since their disagreement either.”

  “It wasn't a disagreement,” I quietly argue.

  It was a Pay Per View MMA fight with no definitive winner.

  He places the plate down in front of me, commanding before I can deny, “Eat.”

  J.T. glances over the edge. “Is that a grilled cheese with bacon?”

  Clark turns to him. “Would you like Lucky to make you one too?”

  “Can it be PB and J instead?”

  I'm unable to resist rolling my eyes.

  “Of course. Grilled as well?”

  “Yeah,” J.T. agrees. “You should probably make one for Brynley too. My guess is she hasn't eaten either.”

  Clark gives him a small, sad smile.

  His comment causes me to sheepishly ask, “You...you don't know? You haven't seen her?”

  J.T. shakes his head profusely. “No. Usually, I can weasel her out of her room for pizza and beer, but she's barely answering my texts. At least I'm assuming she's not answering them because she doesn't wanna talk and not because she's misplaced her phone again. I swear she loses the damn thing more than she uses it.”

  The thought of them messaging one another releases an unconscious grumble.

  “Relax,” he snickers under his breath. “We're not sexting.”

  His word choice increases the sound.

  “I just wanna know how she's holding up. It's a tough situation. I remember when my mom got sick. I remember how hard it was to see her dying in front of my eyes-”

  “Lauren isn't dying.”

  “I know,” he quickly tries to simmer my immediate rage. “I just...I meant I know what it's like having to be around and see someone you love be very sick while you're helpless. I didn't have to go through that alone and...I don't think Bryn should either.”

  The untimely death of J.T.'s mother is one of the only exceptions I made in the past to the being seen in public rule. I attended the funeral. I stayed in the limo, watched the outside ceremony from afar, and once the crowd had dispersed, joined his side as he said his final goodbye. Outside of me, she was the only family he had left. Growing up his father made a habit of appearing and disappearing like a traveling magician. However, once she died of an intracerebral hemorrhage, any connection to him died as well.

  “Sir, may I make a suggestion?” Clark kindly asks.

  I toss a hand up in the air for him to continue.

  “Take Miss Brynley out. Take her somewhere she would deem meaningful. Tell her how much Lauren truly means to you as well as how much she does. You both need each other more than you're willing to admit at this moment. But rather than let the stress of Lauren's inexplicable illness destroy you, allow it to do the opposite. To remind the both of you, to love and forgive now because later may be too late. Or worse. Later may never come.”

  The heaviness of his statement shoves my back against the chair. He's right. He's absolutely right. It doesn't matter what or how Lauren has become ill. What matters is that they both know I'll do whatever I can to help her get better. That they are what matters most to me. Besides Lauren having been the only motherly figure in my life for the past ten years, she's the mother of the woman I plan to spend the rest of my life with if she lets me. She's my girlfriend's foundation. A foundation I rocked once when her father died piloting my family's plane. A foundation I swore I'd spend the rest of my life trying to repair if given the opportunity.

  He gives me a curt nod before turning to J.T. “I'll have Lucky start your sandwich along with Miss Brynley's. Potato chips, sir?”

  “Homemade?”

  “They can be.”

  “No, no,” he denies. “Lucky's been having his hands full with trying out new recipes
to show off on his next vacation to France. Out of the bag is fine.”

  Before Clark leaves, I speak up, “Bring me Brynley's plate when it's ready. I wanna deliver it.”

  His smile brightens. “As you wish, sir.”

  J.T. turns to me after he leaves and jokes, “You really should just come over to the dark side. We've got PB and J.”

  “Is that a Star Trek reference I should get?”

  A look of betrayal clouds his face. “That was a Star Wars reference. What is a matter with you? It's like you didn't watch movies growing up.”

  I roll my eyes and shake my head. “I need to make a couple phone calls. Can we finish discussing work later?”

  He nods. “No problem. It wasn't anything too crucial.”

  J.T. quickly exits leaving me alone with the first meal I've had in days and Clark's instructions swirling around my mind. Between bites, I call in a few favors including one I know Brynley will most likely refuse to have any part of. To my surprise, the timing of the meal prep and my many calls sync up together perfectly.

  By the time he's bringing me her meal, I'm hanging up the final phone call, and ready to properly grovel.

  Clark offers me the plate with an all-knowing smirk. “Anything else, sir?”

  “I'll be needing Jeffrey for the evening.”

  “I'll arrange that.”

  “And um...if you could pack a bag for me.”

  “With?”

  “Blankets?” I question more to myself than him.

  “Blankets.”

  “Anything else?”

  Unsure I want him stuffing away condoms or if it's something I should personally do causes my face to contort.

  “I'll pack a few extra accessories that might be needed for the evening if that's alright with you.”

  “Yes. That would be...helpful.” Now with the plate in my hands, I announce, “We'll be leaving around 8.”

  “I will have everything ready by then.”

  Strolling out of my office, I make my way across the manor straight for a pair of doors I haven't seen the other side of in what feels like a lifetime. Penny catches my eyes as she passes by. She offers me a sympathetic smile yet continues the direction she was headed. With the hallway clear again, I let out a deep breath and give the door a gentle tap.

  As expected she doesn't answer.

  I knock again a little harder.

  Still nothing.

  This time I repeat the action and question, “Permission to board the Death Star?”

  There's a long lull before the door opens to reveal her confused expression. “That was Star Wars. Not Star Trek.”

  I expand my smile. “I know. I did it wrong on purpose.”

  She glares and folds her arms across her chest. “You tricked me into opening the door?”

  “I brought you a sandwich.” Lifting my oblation a little higher, I add, “It's your favorite.”

  Her eyes lower to the meal with a small amount of desire in them. “Trickery and temptation. Breaking out the big guns.”

  “You ain't seen nothin' yet.” When she drags her attention back to me, I hand her the plate and state, “But you will. Be ready to go by 8.”

  Brynley grips the dish but doesn't argue. “Where are we going?”

  “Out.” I lean over and plant a soft kiss on her cheek. “Enjoy your meal.”

  Backing up slowly, I'm caught off guard when she commands, “Wait!”

  My movements freeze.

  She saunters a little closer to me, lifts half the sandwich, and demands, “Try it.”

  I cock a smile. “Seriously?”

  “Try it and if you hate it, I'll let you lick peanut butter off my nipples.”

  Her description awakens my cock to the point I have to let out a whimper.

  “It's really a win, win for you. You either get to enjoy the world's best type of sandwich or you lick me in ways no one else can.”

  Anxious just to be close to her more than anything else, I crack my mouth, and she slides in the side without the crust. I take one large bite while our eyes linger in one another. This isn't about food or being right. This is her version of wanting peace between us again. Asking for comfort without the words.

  The delicious combination of melted peanut butter infused with fresh jelly causes my body to melt. “Fuck, that's good.”

  “Told ya.”

  “Not sure if it's better than a three-cheese grilled cheese with bacon...” The moment her smile widens, I wrap my arms around her waist and whisper, “Might have to have another bite or two. You know...Double check it.”

  She snickers and shoves a bite in her mouth playfully.

  I know we still have things to discuss, but I'm not going to let that prevent me from enjoying the minor relief running through my veins. I'll take whatever it is Brynley's willing to give when she's ready to give it. The power of this relationship lays in her hands. And by the end of the night, she'll truly know that and so much more.

  “They close in like twenty-five minutes.”

  “For everyone else,” Wes corrects as he closes the door to the SUV.

  “What do you mean for everyone else?”

  He adjusts the black hood of his sweatshirt before his shoulder bag. “Exactly what I said.”

  I try to push down my disbelief and excitement. “Are you telling me, we're about to have a private tour of the state's best aquarium? One of the best in the entire country?”

  Wes nods slowly, the grin on his gorgeous face growing. Unable to resist, I toss my arms around his neck and mesh our mouths tightly together. He stifles his groan until our hips meet like our lips. I toy with his tongue in teasing twists and turns, too thrilled not to show my thankfulness of the treat.

  Abruptly he pulls back, “If you actually wanna make it inside, I suggest you keep your tongue to yourself.”

  “A complaint?”

  “A fact.”

  On a giggle, I plant one more chaste kiss on his lips, link our hands, and tug him towards the entrance.

  Inside, the bobbed hair woman behind the front desk says, “We're not accepting any more guests at this time. We're closing in twenty-five minutes.”

  Wes' hand lets mine go to reach for his wallet. “We'll be enjoying a private tour tonight. Renee assured me this wouldn't be an issue.”

  The brunette's face doesn't change. “I'm not aware of any Renee who works here.”

  “She doesn't. She's actually head of the entire institute.” He hands her his driver's license. “She should be calling any minute now.”

  “I'm sorry but-” the phone rings and my boyfriend smirks. Surprised, she lifts a finger to him and answers the call.

  While she's busy having her ass corrected, I give the ID a glance, noticing it's not an updated picture from ten years ago. All the other information seems correct but the photo that has yet to be replaced is of what feels like the man only I'm allowed to see. His smile is bright. His confidence is radiating. The gleam in his eyes is that of someone with their whole life in front of them and every intention to live it. That's the man I want the rest of the world to know. That's the man I trust would never let someone hurt me or my mother.

  The woman ends the call, pushes the license back across the desk, and greets, “It's....an honor to have you here, Mr. Wilcox-”

  “Just Wes is fine.”

  “Wes,” she quietly corrects. “Renee has informed me of your stay for the night and I will be alerting security in regards to turning off the cameras as soon as the last visitor has dispersed. The other staff will be informed as well to promptly finish their duties without interfering with your time. Please do not hesitate to let me know if there's anything you need before I leave.”

  “Thank you,” he casually says, shoving the card back in his wallet. “Baby, do you need anything?”

  I shake my head.

  “Enjoy your night, Mr. Wes and....”

  “Brynley,” I announce with a bright smile.

  “Brynley,” she
finishes her sentence at the same time a few people pass us for the exit.

  His arm drapes around my shoulder and we head toward the entrance to the exhibits. Once we're on the other side of the door, I speak, “I gotta know how you pulled this off. You had to pull the billionaire card for this. It's one of the top five aquariums in the country.”