Ethan shot to his feet. “Fuck, no. Why would you say that?”
“Because it’s true.”
His arms slammed across his chest. “What the hell is this about?”
She deserved his anger, and whatever else he decided to dish out. “I couldn’t keep it locked up inside any longer.”
His gaze bored into hers, as if trying to find its way into her heart, her soul, the very marrow of her bones. Like he could X-ray the truth out of her. She remained still under the cold burn of his eyes, even as her stomach heaved.
Ethan stabbed a finger in her direction. “You wouldn’t do that to me, to us.”
“I did.” She swallowed. “I did do that.”
He stalked up and down the deck then ran his hands through his hair, the gesture uncontrolled. “I can’t wrap my head around this. I can’t even think where to start.”
Charlie found her way to her feet, though she swayed on them like a drunk. “I’ll go away. Give you some space.”
Another finger stab. “You’re going to fucking stay right there. I’m going to…” He glanced around wildly. “I’ve gotta get more air, get my thoughts in order. When I come back, I expect…expect…” He gave up and just shot her another cold yet molten look. “You just fucking stay right there.”
And because she was doomed to disappoint Ethan today, as he took off down the beach at a run, with shaking hands Charlie collected her keys and purse and then managed to text Emmaline and Sara.
She asked them to meet her at one of her favorite coffee places because at either one of their houses she might have been able to break down. In public, she’d be forced to maintain her composure.
And she must have sounded less than a wreck via text, because they strolled into the café without an ounce of urgency. Charlie managed to smile at them as they put in their orders at the counter. She even held onto it until they took their seats.
Sara’s gaze sharpened as she scooted in her chair. “Whoa. What did Ethan do to you last night?”
Charlie put a self-conscious hand to the collar of her shirt. She’d dressed with covering telltale marks in mind. “I wanted to thank you both for helping out with Wells yesterday.”
Emmaline traded glances with the other butler. “No problem. You know that boy’s a delight. But you look a little…battered around the edges.”
“It’s been a bad morning,” Charlie admitted.
“Oh, honey,” Emmaline said. “Is he a lousy lover? A rough lov—”
“He’s a great lover!” Shoot. She lowered her voice. “And a rough lover in all the right kinds of ways.”
Yes, she might be blushing, but if you couldn’t confess that to your two best friends in the world, who could you confess it to?
Those two friends exchanged another look.
“I like the sound of that,” Sara said.
“That is not the problem.” Guilt rose in Charlie as well as another rush of unwelcome tears that she forced back with every ounce of her will.
“Then what is the problem?” Emmaline demanded. “You’ve always been a rock, Charlie. So steady in every way.”
“Is it the upcoming wedding?” Sara guessed. “You know we’ll pitch in for anything you need, and I’m sure one of your notebooks has the right contact for whatever your heart desires.”
Her heart’s desire. That was the center of everything. Good and bad.
“I have to tell you something in case I…I suddenly disappear.” Because that was the likeliest outcome, right? Ethan ordering her out of his and Wells’ life.
“What?” the other butlers said together, their expressions dumbfounded.
She plowed on. “You’ll have to promise me to think up some innocuous explanation for Wells, or follow along with whatever Ethan is saying.” Hesitating, she considered a moment. “Yes, do that. He’ll have an excuse for where I’ve gone. Just repeat whatever that is.”
“Charlie—” Emmaline began.
“I can’t tell you every detail,” she said, grabbing one of each friend’s hands. “Because I haven’t had a chance to tell those to Ethan yet.”
“Tell what to Ethan?”
“This is the part he knows so far.” Charlie sucked in a breath, then let it out in a rush. “I gave birth to Wells. I’m his biological mom.”
She should have expected that her friends, well-trained from the rigors of the curriculum at the Continental Butler Academy, would take this in with a remarkable aplomb. Though it took them a minute of stunned quiet to process, they managed to begin breathing again and then pledged their full support in every way.
They were that kind of friend.
Knowing that Ethan would need the entire story from her once he’d managed to—calm himself? call a lawyer? find a weapon?—she returned home after making Emmaline and Sara a promise in return. She wouldn’t “disappear” but would come to them even it was only to say goodbye on her way out of town.
At the Archer property—more specifically, her detached bungalow―her stomach continued to pitch and toss. She told herself that she’d faced the most difficult part of her day in revealing that most basic of truths to Ethan and her butler friends. The rest was just details.
At a loss, though, she gazed around her rooms.
Practical, she thought. Be practical.
To that end, she locked down on her feelings and pulled her suitcases from the small front closet. She rolled them into her bedroom then opened a dresser drawer, staring at the bundles of cotton, common-sense underwear. The decadent pieces she’d worn the night before she’d bought for herself, only the second set of fancy after what Emmaline had purchased for her not long ago.
Unfortunately, thinking of underwear had her mind returning to Ethan again, Ethan’s bed, everything Ethan and she had done on that bed, in his suite. A shiver worked its way down her spine as she thought of the deep tone of his voice, his blistering gaze on her, his caressing hands.
His semen.
Somehow, the part of sex that she’d always considered messy and embarrassing he’d made natural, sexy, hot. Amazing, considering how she always had her mother in her head, the woman who recoiled when people on TV “kissed with their mouths open.” Witnessing that act always made Beverly Emerson cringe and mutter, like the Devil was reaching through the screen for her.
In bed with Ethan, Charlie had gone deaf to those old messages, blind to those old memories. With him, she’d been in touch with herself in an important way, seeing herself not as a disciplined butler or a failure of a daughter, but as a primal human female.
One with a responsive body that had a heart that beat and that had desires that cried out to be quenched.
Your heart’s desire.
And then another truth hit her, another secret revealing itself in a blinding, lightning-style flash that burned and tore and was going to be the end of her. The calamitous end she’d always been eager to avoid…but now no longer. Because steady Charlie, practical Charlie, had some time in the last eleven months fallen in love.
Not just with her son. She’d accepted that at some level a long while back.
But with her son’s father.
As that thought electrified her system, the door to her bungalow crashed open. Hurried steps on the floor signaled progress into her space. Then he stood in the doorway to her bedroom, looking hard and beautiful and not even a tad too traditional. His flinty expression turned to infuriated as his gaze landed on her suitcases.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Ethan thundered.
Ethan’s temper didn’t check at Charlie’s flinch. He’d gone for a run on the beach, hoping he might find some control as he pounded along the sand, but his emotions chased themselves inside his head the entire time—anger sweeping them all in front of it so that his vision went red.
He glared at her suitcases and smothered another wild surge of rage. Then he turned to his butler and asked the single question that had dominated his thoughts. “Is this some sort of ploy for custody
? Because if it is, you’re shit out of luck, lady.”
Her eyes rounded, and her hand came up to her throat. He enjoyed the way it trembled.
“N-no. I swear on everything, no.”
“Because I have money and I have lawyers and I’m one-hundred percent certain the adoption was iron-clad in every way. But still, if you make any kind of attempt to break the terms, you’ll end up broken.”
She flinched again.
And he enjoyed that too.
“Wells is my son,” he said. “First. Last. Always.”
As if her legs had given out, Charlie dropped to the bed. “I know that. I’ve always known that.”
He refused to yield to her even an inch. Instead, he stalked around the room, taking in the orderliness of it. As far as he could tell, nothing had changed since the day he’d shown her inside and given her the keys. Not one personal item appeared on any surface, with the exception of a photo of the three butlers, in uniform. Graduation day, he supposed, judging by the big grins.
Which reminded him. “How the fuck did you manage to infiltrate my household?”
“I’m not a spy,” she said, betraying a little spirit. “You know how I was hired, since you did the hiring. You contacted a placement service, and I was one of the potential domestic managers they suggested you interview.”
Shit. How hadn’t he known she had an ulterior motive? She’d been reserved yet sincere. That day she’d seemed to answer all his questions with a directness he couldn’t help admiring. Why hadn’t he thought to ask if she was the biological mother of his child?
Still pacing around the room, he sent her another searing glance, which she didn’t notice, as she was staring down at her hands.
He wasn’t going to fucking feel moved by that distraught expression on her face. Though he felt jumpy as hell, he forced his feet to stop, and he leaned his hips against her dresser. “Start from the beginning.”
One of those tales as old as time, he discovered. Youthful passion. Broken condom. A teenage boy who didn’t want anything to do with her once she discovered she was pregnant. Actually, that part he’d learned through the adoption process. At the time, he supposed he’d felt some vague sympathy for the young woman in those circumstances, but that had been overpowered by the joyful idea of bringing a baby home.
Now it was Charlie who had been that young woman, and he thought of the fresh condoms in his medicine cabinet and the immediate doctor’s appointment she’d made for the birth control shot. Of course his efficient, capable butler would learn from her mistakes.
Wait. She was not his.
And nothing she said about the circumstances did anything for his jagged mood. It was mean and bitter, and he felt like a man who’d been petting a sweet cat that suddenly turned on him to sink her fangs into his hand. So he had wounds to nurse too, but now wasn’t the time.
When her words petered out, he glared at her again. “So what the fuck were you about, Charlie, when you applied for the job?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. A whim? I’d been to visit my mom in San Diego—this was after graduation from butler school. That went unpleasantly, as always, with the name-calling and the ominous predictions for my future, so I decided that was it. I was done and never going back there. I collected everything personal from my old room, and that included the adoption file.”
Her mouth turned down. “I’d never looked at it after that day—the day Wells was born.”
Nothing was going to cool his ire, not even the mention of name-calling and ominous predictions. “But then you did. And turned to the internet too.”
“I didn’t consider it a…a violation. I was between jobs and just…curious.”
“You came across Michelle’s obituary.” The thought tasted bitter on his tongue.
“I did.” Her head came up and her blue eyes were wet. “I was so sorry to read that. So very sorry for your family.”
“And following that you came up with your idea to get close to what was left of it.”
She dropped her head into her hands. “I just contacted the nearby placement agencies, looking for work. I needed to have a job.”
“You could have gone looking anywhere but here.”
“I could have.” She looked up, nodding. “But I took a chance because I wanted to see for myself how the two of you were faring. You and your son.”
He frowned. “You were interested in me?”
A flush colored her face, making her eyes stand out like bright jewels. “I felt as if I knew you. From the letters both you and Michelle sent.”
The letters they’d written to the pregnant mother of the child they’d hoped she’d let them adopt. Christ, he’d forgotten all about those.
“Both of you shared some of your hopes and dreams about a family, and I found it all so…beautiful, Ethan. What I wanted my baby to have.”
What she’d never had.
Her hand pressed her flat belly as if she recalled Wells resting inside there.
“After he was born, I was on my own a lot, and I liked imagining the three of you and the life you said in those letters that you intended to build. When I found out what had happened to Michelle…I just wanted to make sure the rest hadn’t died too.”
Fucking God. “You shouldn’t have interviewed.” And he should have sensed something was off when she did.
“I shouldn’t have interviewed. Because during that hour I saw how good a man you are, and then I caught sight of Wells and…it felt like Fate.” She shrugged, clearly out of explanations.
Excuses.
Standing up, she reached for the nearest suitcase, and he felt another surge of rage shoot up like lava inside him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing now?”
“It will only take me an hour or so to pack. I don’t have all that much.”
But she’d given so many things. Starting with his son.
“What am I supposed to tell Wells?”
She froze, clearly stricken. Then she sank to the mattress again. “I thought maybe you’d have an idea.”
He opened his mouth, then shut it as her cellphone trilled. She snatched it up from her bedside table, probably grateful for the interruption.
What kind of explanation could he drum up to offer to Wells? His son, her “Best Boy in the Galaxy” would be confused, upset, left feeling betrayed.
Just like his father.
The troubled note in his butler’s voice snapped his attention back to her. She was taking notes in one of her ubiquitous little books, and there was the pleat of a frown between her eyes.
“I understand,” she was saying. “I can handle it. No problem.”
But then the call ended, and she merely stared at the scribblings she’d left behind on the page.
“What is it?” he heard himself ask, though he shouldn’t give a damn about her concerns.
“It’s the book fair. Instead of starting Wednesday of next week, they’ve had to change the schedule, and the books and other stuff will be at the school this Wednesday.” Her front teeth worried her bottom lip. “I have to call the volunteers, figure out new schedules, fill in where needed…”
Then her shoulders slumped. “I won’t be able to, will I?” she murmured, as if to herself. Then dropped her head into her hands once again. “I’m leaving, and I’m leaving everything in a shambles behind me.”
The tone of total dejection didn’t get to him, he promised himself. Nothing could kill his temper or soften the stone-hard core of his heart when it came to her.
But shit, his stomach roiled to see the ever-capable Charlie finding a wall she couldn’t climb.
Wearily, she stood again and wheeled a suitcase closer to lift it onto the bed. As if he wasn’t there, she unzipped the piece and flung it open.
It yawned, empty, like all the years ahead. Like the other side of his bed.
Damn her for making him begin to believe in another kind of future.
“It was never about custody,” she suddenly
said. “Please believe me. Wells belongs to you.”
And I wanted him to belong to you, too.
“Why did you tell me, Charlie?” Ethan demanded.
She glanced around, puzzlement in her eyes.
Even this incensed him. Wouldn’t uninterrupted subterfuge have been a better answer? “You could have left me in the dark about all this. We would have married, and the past wouldn’t have mattered.”
“I…”
“It wasn’t very practical of you, Charlie, was it? Common sense should have told you to keep your mouth shut.”
“I guess I’m not always practical.”
“And you’re going to miss Wells,” he pointed out, his voice harsh. “Did you think about that when you decided to confess? That if it meant you leaving us, this house, that you’d be leaving that sweet little boy who wants you to tuck him in at night? Every night?”
She opened her mouth, closed it then straightened her spine. “What’s done is done,” she said, toneless.
Damn it, where was her temper? Or at least her grief? Her sadness at leaving him and Wells? Had her caring all been an act? But no, that wasn’t right, he knew that much, no matter how shitty he felt at the moment.
Every note in a lunchbox, every ovation for a job well done, every minute she’d spent kicking a soccer ball with his son had been real.
Every smile she’d sent to Ethan. Every perfect cup of coffee she’d handed over in the morning as if she wanted it to be his best one ever. That had been real too.
The way she’d responded to him in bed. Christ, there’d been no faking that. It had been authentic. Honest.
Mind-blowing.
“The book fair,” she suddenly said, swinging to face him.
“What?”
“You could do it.”
He blinked, nonplussed. Who gave a flaming fuck about the book fair? Not him.
As if she could read his mind, she clasped her hands together. “You need to understand…it would hang over your head, Wells’ head, if it doesn’t proceed smoothly. It’s up to the Archer household to ensure its success.”
He stared at her.
“Honest, it’s a big deal,” she continued. “Bigger than I realized when I took it on. But I can explain everything to you today before I leave. And I’ll take care of the scheduling—call all the volunteers to give them the head’s-up. You only need to—”
The Secret (Billionaire's Beach Book 6) Page 17
