by Stacy-Deanne
“You don’t have to say more. I understand.”
“I feel horrible about this all around. I used Zoë, lied to you and I played myself. I gotta end it.”
“Well.” She stood. “We need to split before we end up suspended or arrested.”
“Wait.”
“What?”
“What’s the most obvious hiding place everyone uses but people still never remember to check?”
“Uh…”
Steven dug underneath the bed.
“Steven.”
“Bingo.” He held up a raggedy black shoebox stuffed with folded up papers and envelopes. “See?” He took the cover off. “Everyone keeps things under the bed.”
“Man.” Brianna grabbed a stack of photos. “She’s got more photos in here than I do in my photo album. Why would she keep photos in a shoebox?”
They flipped through photos of Zoë as a baby. She was just as gorgeous then.
“Aw.” Brianna cooed at the photo of baby Zoë reaching toward the camera. “Look at those fat little arms. Hate to admit it but she was a cute baby.”
“Adorable.” Steven held a photo with Zoë on a tricycle. “It’s weird to see these, to see her so innocent you know?”
“Wait.” Brianna pointed at the photo of little Zoë sitting with a man and woman in the yard. “Are these her parents?”
The woman had on a straw hat that covered the top of her face and the man wore shades.
“I guess.” Steven took the picture.
“So her adoptive parents were white?”
“I guess these are her parents, yeah.”
“You didn’t know?”
“No how would I?”
“Oh excuse me for thinking that maybe you two actually talked in between all that hot sex.”
“I knew she was adopted but she didn’t tell me they were white. I guess she didn’t think it mattered. You sure those are the parents?”
“I assume so.” Brianna separated the pictures in her lap. “Steve.”
“What?”
She showed him the picture of the woman in a rocking chair with little Zoë.
“Wait one fuckin’ minute here.” Steven squinted. “Is that who I think it is?”
“Yes. It’s definitely Elle Givens.”
They stared at each other for the longest minute Brianna had ever experienced then looked at the picture again.
“She’s the daughter, Steve. Zoë is Elle Givens’ adopted daughter.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
“This can’t be.” He held the photo closer. “How the hell can Zoë be Elle’s daughter?”
“Obviously it’s possible. That’s Elle in the picture and she’s holding Zoë.”
“Wait. This makes no sense. Maybe the woman just looks like Elle.”
“That’s Elle.” Brianna pointed to the woman’s face. “You know damn well it is.”
Brianna ran through more photos. “It’s definitely Elle. Jesus Christ.”
“If Zoë is Elle’s adopted daughter why the hell didn’t she say anything when Jayce mentioned it?”
“Maybe she was surprised Nadia had the clippings.” Brianna wasn’t convinced of that theory herself but couldn’t think of anything else to throw out there.
“I don’t believe this. First she’s having an affair with Nick, now she’s Elle Givens’ daughter?”
“Uh, Steve?” Brianna stared at a photo of a dark-haired man holding little Zoë.
“What?”
She wiggled on the bed. “Oh…wow…uh…”
“What?”
“Uh, I don’t think Zoë and Nick are having an affair. In fact I’m positive they’re not.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” He snatched the photo. “Oh fuck me. Bree is that…”
“Yes. That’s definitely Nick Sebastian in that photo.”
Nick escorted Dylan onto his hotel terrace that night.
“Wait here.” He dashed inside the room.
Albany had the most beautiful nights. Her gold bracelet shimmered under the moonlight.
Nick had become a great distraction from her problems once again. She’d showed up earlier expecting a shoulder to cry on and he’d whisked her to New York City no questions asked. He doted on her as if it were his only duty in life.
The night started with a trip to a fancy NYC boutique and salon. She’d gotten her hair trimmed even neater and makeup done by a woman who once did the professional makeup for local models and celebrities. From there she had a professional fitting at the boutique and walked out with a satin black dress that made people gaze every time she walked past.
They enjoyed a gourmet meal at a Gordon Ramsey restaurant where she ordered food she couldn’t pronounce. They took a horse and carriage ride through Central Park. They caught a live show everyone had been raving about for weeks. They finished the evening at an art exhibit where a local artist showcased his new work. Dylan exchanged info with the man and wowed him with photos of her own artwork.
She maneuvered her curves within the snug gown.
It was as if she’d stepped out of her body and into a whole new world. No one took the time with her that Nick did. No one made her feel so appreciated or so beautiful.
Nick turned the terrace light on. The most unique female voice in the history of music crooned from his stereo. Dylan closed her eyes and swayed to Billie Holiday’s Strange Fruit. Billie’s low tones guided the rhythm, soothing Dylan’s soul.
She’d grown up on Billie’s music. She used to play Nadia’s collection to drown out the fights between Nadia and Clay. Listening to Billie became a ritual when Dylan couldn’t find solace anywhere else.
She glanced inside the room. Nick got two glasses and a bottle of champagne from the fridge. She hadn’t told him how much she loved Billie. Yet out of all the music he could’ve played, he picked Strange Fruit which happened to be her favorite Billie song?
The reason they’d gotten so close so fast had been for their similar tastes. She placed her hand on her flat stomach.
Sometimes she felt Nick knew her better than she knew herself. How could that be possible? Was it possible?
He set the glasses on the terrace table and filled them with champagne.
She hadn’t had champagne since her cousin’s wedding two years ago.
“Here you go.” He handed her a glass and sipped from the other.
He’d worn his contacts tonight and she’d seen a glint in his eye that she couldn’t shake. Sometimes he’d stare for no reason. As if he had something to say but never got around to it.
He lit the night up with his smile. He’d taken off his tux jacket. She didn’t have romantic feelings for him of course but he was a very handsome man. He’d draw any woman in by the attention he paid and how he made you feel like you were the only person in the world.
“Are you all right?” His cologne stole her senses.
“Yes.” A tear fell from her eye.
“Then why are you crying?” He caught her tear with his fingertip.
“It’s just that no one’s ever done for me the things you do. It’s overwhelming you know?”
He put his finger on her cheek. “I only want to make you happy. I live for that, Dylan. Nothing else matters to me.”
She stared into her glass. “I shouldn’t drink. I gotta drive home.”
He put his hand over hers. “One sip won’t hurt.”
He claimed his interest wasn’t romantic but wasn’t he trying to seduce her now? What caused the hungry look in his eyes?
She looked over the terrace. A man with headphones walked underneath the streetlights.
The champagne trembled in her hand. She just couldn’t stop shaking all of a sudden.
“Whoa.” He steadied her hand. “You’re supposed to sip it, not drop it.”
“I know. I...”
“Are you really okay? Something’s been bothering you all day.”
“Can I be honest?”
“You know you ca
n.” He bent over the railing.
“Nick I just…” She caught her breath. “I’m nervous and I don’t know but this feels so strange.”
“Being alone with me like this?” He sipped.
She shrugged.
“You’ve been alone with me many times before and you felt fine.”
“I know. Tonight feels different. Doesn’t it to you?”
“You feel uncomfortable?”
“I’m kind of confused that’s all.”
“Confused?”
“Nick I’ll always be grateful for what you’ve done. It kills me that I can’t give you half of what you’ve given me.”
“You’ve been giving me all I’ve ever wanted, Dylan. God you really can’t see that?”
She lost herself in Billie’s voice.
“What’s the matter?” He pulled her close. “Please don’t shut me out. If I’ve done something wrong, let me know.”
“You do everything right. That’s why this is so hard.”
“What’s so hard?” He held onto her hand. “What’s changed?”
“You’re wonderful and I adore being around you but I think it’s best if we don’t see each other anymore.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
“What?”
“I don’t want to hurt you, Nick.”
“But you are. You will if you cut me out of your life.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Then don’t. Don’t shut me out, Dylan. Please.”
“Let me go, Nick.”
“I can’t let you walk out of my life.”
“Please.” She tried to move her hand. “Nick.”
“Honey, you don’t understand.” His eyes filled with tears. “You just don’t understand.”
“Please, Nick. I wanna leave.”
He let her hand go.
“You will always mean the world to me.” She kissed his cheek. “But I think that this isn’t a good idea anymore. I can’t explain it but that’s how I’m feeling now.”
“I wanted to make this night perfect for you.” He looked into the night. “Guess I failed huh?”
“You’re wonderful. Like an angel that has been sent to me. But I feel like there’s something you’re hiding from me. Something you want to say but you never do.”
He clutched his chin.
“Nick, answer me please.”
“I love you, Dylan.”
“I know that. I love you too.”
“I’m not talking about as a friend.”
“I really think I should go.” She set her glass on the table.
“And I don’t think you could ever know how much I love you.”
“Nick.”
“You wanted me to explain? Well maybe that’s a good idea. I’ve been holding this in for too long and I don’t think I can do it anymore.”
She backed up. “What are you talking about?”
“Come here.” He went inside.
She stayed at the doorway.
He turned off the music and got a thin black box from the end table by his bed.
“I got this for you.”
She put her hand on her bosom. “What is it?”
He handed it to her. “Open it.”
She flipped the box open. She held up a gold necklace with an amethyst dangling from it.
“What’s this?”
“It’s a present for you.” He put the necklace on her neck.
“It’s so beautiful.” The gold glistened against her skin. “But it’s not my birthstone.” She faced him.
“Yes it is.”
“I was born in June. My birthstone is the pearl.”
“No. It’s the amethyst.”
“Nick I think I know my own birthstone. I was born in June, not February.”
“No. You were born in February.”
“Nick.” She walked to his computer. “Look it’s a beautiful necklace and I appreciate it but this is not my birthstone. I think I’d know when I was born.”
“You were born in February.” He stood behind his bed. His gaze didn’t leave her face once. “And amethyst is your birthstone. You just don’t know it.”
“Okay.” She sighed. “Uh, maybe you had a little too much champagne or something but I’m gonna go until…”
He ran to the door. “No.”
“Nick.”
“You can’t leave yet, Dylan.”
“Nick please.” She backed up toward the bed. “I just wanna leave okay? I think you’re confused about everything.”
“No you’re the one confused. But I’m gonna help you not be.”
“Get out of my way, Nick.”
“Are you afraid of me?”
“Yes.” She ran across the room. “With the way you’re acting now I’m very scared.”
“You don’t ever have to be afraid of me. You know that.”
“Let me leave, Nick.”
“I can’t until you know the truth. That’s what you wanted right?”
“Stop it!” She pushed him but he held onto her. “What’s the matter with you?” She hit his chest. “Let me leave! Goddamn it!”
“Listen to me.” His grip burned her skin.
“Nick please.” She sobbed. “Please just let me go home.”
“You are so beautiful. You look just like your mother.”
Her heart pounded. “My mother?”
“There was no woman as beautiful as her to me, except you. She was the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life.”
She stumbled.
“You look just like her. It’s like she’s right here with me again.”
“You knew Nadia? You lied to me.”
“I’m not talking about Nadia. I’m talking about your real mother.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Victoria.”
“Victoria? What the hell are you talking about?”
“That’s your name. Your real name is Victoria.”
“Let go of me!”
“Shh.”
“You’re fuckin’ crazy!”
“Honey calm down.”
“Let go of me! Help! Someone help me!”
“I’m trying to tell you the truth! Please listen!”
“No!” She slapped him. “You stop this shit right now! I’m not playing this sick game. You’re trying to say you knew my real mother? Bullshit!”
“It’s the truth.”
“There’s no way!” She pushed him. “I don’t even know my real mother! You’re a liar!”
“Dylan listen!”
“You stop these lies! There is no way you could know my mother!”
“There is a way!”
“You’re lying there’s no way!”
“Listen!”
“You’re full of shit! How could you know my real mother? How could you?”
“Because I’m your father!”
She stared at him.
“That’s how I know.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Dylan’s shoe caught on the carpet when she moved back. “Get away from me.”
“Listen to me, sweetheart.”
“Get away, Nick.”
“I know it seems impossible but it’s the truth. I am your father.”
“You stop it!” She ran to the door. “This is crazy! I never wanna see you again!”
“Wait!” He held the doorknob. “Please listen to me.”
“You’re a fuckin’ nut aren’t you? Aunt Jas was right about you. I should’ve been cautious. I shouldn’t have ever trusted you!”
“I can’t let you go now.” He took her hand. “I’ve waited all this time to tell you the truth.”
“You’re sick. This is totally fucked up.” She ran to the other side of the bed. “Why are you doing this?”
He walked toward her.
“No.” She raised her purse. “You come near me and I’ll hit you. I swear it.”
“Okay please just calm down. Dylan? You kept saying you didn�
�t understand the connection we have. Why you trusted me so easily. It was something inside you.” He patted his chest. “And there’s a reason.”
She shivered over the headboard.
“I know this is the most incredible thing you will ever hear but I wouldn’t lie about something like this. You are my daughter.”
Dylan doubled over from nausea. “I feel like I’ve been drugged. Is this even real?”
“It’s real.”
“It can’t be happening.” She quivered. “Please, Nick. Whatever you’re doing, just stop it now.”
“I am your father and I can prove it.” He pointed. “Look in that briefcase in the closet.”
“No.”
“You have to, sweetie.”
“No. This isn’t true. You can’t be my father!”
He slowly approached. “Get the case outta the closet. What are you so afraid of if you think it’s not true?”
She held her breath. He couldn’t be her father. There was just no way. It wasn’t possible.
“Please, Dylan.”
She opened the closet. A black suitcase sat by Nick’s shiny wingtips.
He stood behind her. “Pick it up.”
She reached for it but couldn’t control her trembling fingers.
“The last thing I’d ever wanna do is hurt you.”
“Then why are you doing this to me?”
“It has to be done. No more secrets will be between us after tonight.” She tensed up when he touched her shoulders. “What are you more afraid of? That I am or that I’m not?”
“Okay you wanna do this huh?” She threw the briefcase on the bed. “Wanna play this sick game of yours?”
“Dylan.”
“No come on. We’ll play it!” She opened the briefcase. Three large photo albums sat on top of each other. She snatched the first one.
“Open it, Dylan.” Nick whispered in her ear. “Put me out of my misery.”
“No.” Her tears dampened the cover.
“Open it.”
“I can’t.” Her fingers trembled beyond control.
“Don’t be afraid. This has to be done.”
“No.” She backed into the dresser. “I can’t do this.” He stroked her chin as she sobbed.
