Dirty Little Secrets

by Lizzie Shane

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Aiden sat at the bar, tapping a rhythmic tattoo on the side of his glass as he stared into his scotch. He hadn’t actually taken a sip yet. The formal portion of the dinner was over. His grandfather had been packed off home with his primary nurse, a tall soft-spoken man with a thick southern accent. Aiden didn’t have to be here anymore.

  But he no longer had anywhere better to be.

  His girls would have gone to bed hours ago and Samira…

  He hunched over his glass, staring into the amber liquid, swirling it idly. He had been drinking too much lately. Relying on the drink. Turning into Scott. Samira had been worried about him—the only person close enough to him to see it happening—but she didn’t want to be close anymore and he was in a mood to self-destruct.

  At least when he was drunk, the smothering sense of helplessness faded away and he felt like he didn’t have to fix the world. Didn’t have to be in control—or feel his failure.

  “You okay, little brother? That was quite a throw down this morning.”

  He looked up, narrowing his eyes as Candy appeared at his side. “Did they send you to talk to me?”

  Candy snorted. “Have you met me?”

  Right. His sister hated his overbearing family. She would never be her mother’s minion. “Sorry,” he muttered, returning to his contemplation of the whiskey.

  Candy hopped up onto the barstool to his left and waved to the bartender, pointing to his glass to order another. She wasn’t usually a drinker—at least not that he’d ever seen—but maybe they were all feeling self-destructive tonight. Maybe it was a family trait.

  She didn’t interrupt his concentration on the scent and texture of the scotch until she’d received her own and taken her first drink. “So,” she said finally. “The nanny, huh?”

  “I know. It’s a cliché.”

  Except it wasn’t. This wasn’t some tawdry affair with the nanny to be hushed up. He loved her and she loved him and there was no good reason why they couldn’t be together. No reason except that she didn’t want him enough to try.

  “Is she what you were trying to talk to me about when you called?” Candy asked. “Serena?”

  “Samira,” he corrected automatically, then shrugged. “Sort of. Things are complicated.”

  “Does she feel the same way about you that you do about her?”

  Aiden nodded, but his head suddenly felt like it weighed a thousand pounds and it dropped forward, hanging at the end of his neck. “She believes in me.”

  “How dare she.”

  Aiden snorted, but didn’t lift his head. “She thinks I can make a difference. That I can change the world.”

  Somehow that made it all worse. If she’d hated him, it would have been one thing, but she loved him. She believed in him. How was he supposed to convince her that they could do it together? That none of it meant anything without her?

  Candy cocked her head at his side. “I’m not seeing the downside here, Aiden. You’re going to have to spell it out for me.”

  He looked up then, meeting her eyes. “She knows my career will be more challenging with her around. She knew it even before Mother screamed it in her face this morning. Every time I get close to her and she starts to let me in, she takes two steps back. Do you have any idea how frustrating that is?”

  Always chasing. Always watching her walk away.

  Candy winced, her expression sympathetic. “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know what I can do,” he muttered. “She’s refusing to be with me because she thinks I have the potential to be the shining light to guide this country out of the political darkness or some such bullshit. And she’s stubborn, Candy. So stubborn.” He’d always loved that about her. She could be so easy-going, but when she dug in her heels, there was no moving her. “And strong. She won’t give in to me if she thinks I’m wrong.”

  Which would be good if they were together. They would balance one another. But when the thing she thought he was wrong about was their relationship itself… not so good.

  “She sounds like someone I would like.”

  A smile tugged at his lips, not quite forming. “I think you would.”

  “So?”

  “She isn’t wrong. It will be harder with her beside me. It might even be impossible in the current political climate. Especially if our parents cut me off from their contacts in retaliation.” But he couldn’t make himself care about any of that. If he lost an election because of who he loved, it wasn’t an election worth winning. He couldn’t live his life like that, changing who he was to fit the perfect political mold. He wouldn’t like who he became at the end of the day. He wouldn’t be able to look himself in the eye in the mirror.

  Candy made a low, aggravated noise. She’d never liked politics to begin with.

  “I feel like all my life people have been telling me I have this light inside me and it’s my duty to shine for the world.” His mother. Chloe. His grandfather. They all had expectations for what he would be. Even Samira. “All I want is to be with Samira, to live a quiet life with my girls, but is that selfish? To run away from what I could accomplish? The good I could do? The people whose lives I could change for the better? I like helping people. I like knowing that my life makes a difference. But can it be my calling if it means I have to give her up?” Who said he had to be a politician anyway? Why couldn’t he just keep being an overworked lawyer?

  “You’re a prince, you know that?”

  “That’s what they say.” He looked at his sister over the glass he still hadn’t touched. “Do you think I should run?”

  “Yes,” she said flatly—and his heart plummeted.

  Everyone. He’d thought Candy at least would tell him to be selfish, but then she went on.

  “Run far, far away,” she said with a wry little smile. “That’s what I did.”

  He smiled in spite of himself. His sister, the rebel.

  She headed off a few minutes later, drink in hand, and Aiden watched her go. Was she right? And if she was, could he convince Samira to run far away with him? Could he somehow just stop being the kind of man who put pressure on himself to change the world?

  “You gonna drink that or just stare at it all night?”

  Aiden glanced up as Scott took the seat Candy had vacated. “I haven’t decided yet.”

  “I’m not the best role model, in case you were considering a career in alcoholism,” Scott said wryly, lifting his own glass.

  “I could do worse.”

  “True. I am witty. And shockingly handsome.” Aiden snorted and Scott’s smile faded into something almost serious. “I worry about you, little brother.”

  “I’m the only one you don’t need to worry about.”

  “Nah,” Scott shook his head. “It’s the ones who look like they have it all together who are really hanging on by a thread. You’ve always been perfect—perfect brother, perfect son, perfect husband, perfect father—”

  “I’m far from perfect,” he snapped irritably. “I’m not a Boy Scout, Scott.”

  “Oh I know. I heard you were banging your nanny.”

  Aiden’s fist clenched and he turned sharply toward his brother, who raised his hands in surrender.

  “Hey, no judgement. I’m sure your intentions are pure. You wouldn’t know how to be anything else.” Scott held up a hand when Aiden opened his mouth to protest. “I know. You hate when I talk about how perfect you are, but I’m only saying I understand how much pressure that is, being the golden child. I wasn’t always a screw up. There was a reason our mother thought she could take me all the way to the White House. I was the golden child once, but I buckled under the pressure. The same pressure you’re under now. Be the shining light. Change the world.”

  Aiden snapped his mouth shut, startled by Scott’s words. He’d never really thought about who his brother had been before he’d become the cheerful drunk.

  Scott lifted his glass in a mocking toast. “God grant me the sere
nity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.” He took a long drink, then lowered his glass with a grin. “I learned that in rehab. Useful stuff. Except I always sucked at all three parts and God wasn’t doing much granting.” He met Aiden’s eyes over his glass, his own remarkably clear for as late in the evening as it was. “You can’t change the world by yourself, little brother. And drinking away your frustration with that fact isn’t going to help.”

  “I don’t want to change the world,” he argued—and was surprised that it was true. He just wanted to move the needle. To do his part. He thought he would always want that. He would want his life’s work to have impact.

  But he also wanted Samira. Living a good life meant loving—and showing his daughters an example of love. He just had to figure out how to convince her they were worth it.

  The courage to change the things you can…

  *

  The music had started around ten.

  Samira lay in the dark of her room, listening intently as the sounds of the rehearsal dinner after-party carried softly to her on the night air through the window she’d cracked open. The music wasn’t loud enough to wake the girls—it wouldn’t have woken her, if she’d been asleep with the window closed.

  But she hadn’t been. Instead, she’d been lying in bed with her thoughts chasing one another pointlessly around in circles, incapable of sleep.

  She strained her ears for some sign of Aiden coming back to the cottage, but he must still be celebrating with his family. She told herself that was good. He so rarely got the chance to let loose and unwind. But a much more bitter voice in the back of her brain whispered that he must not really care if he could party all night after they’d broken up.

  Not that it was technically a break up. More a dissolution. A conscious-freaking-uncoupling.

  She groaned and rolled over, burying her face in the squishy mass of her pillow and thumping a fist against its plumpness. Stupid. So stupid.

  Why was she torturing herself like this? Why? It was the right choice. She was happy with her choice. Happy, dang it.

  But the idea of starting over again still made her brain hurt. Starting from scratch. She’d done it before and it had been horrible. Though a large part of that had been the feeling of betrayal when her parents had sided with Trevor. At least she wouldn’t have to go through that again. They didn’t know Aiden. They couldn’t decide they loved him more.

  She closed her eyes, but that only made the knot in her chest yank that much tighter. How could they? How could they choose him?

  Samira snatched her phone off the nightstand. Nearly eleven—but it was an hour earlier in St. Louis. Her father wasn’t a night owl. He might already be asleep, but she dialed anyway, the burn in her chest insisting that they had to talk now.

  She expected her mother to answer, but it was her father’s voice that came, gruff and deep. “Samira? Is something wrong?”

  “How could you choose him?”

  “What? What are you talking about? Have you been drinking?” Disapproval made his voice thick.

  “Not a drop,” she insisted. “I just need to know how you could do it. I always knew I was a disappointment to you, but I never thought you would pick him over me.”

  “Samira.” His voice was heavy with disapproval. “I don’t know what this is about, but—”

  “You don’t?” she asked incredulously. “So when I came to you and told you I was leaving Trevor and you told me I was wrong and that if I left him it would only prove that I was too weak to make it work—you’re still proud of that? You don’t regret it for a second?”

  “Marriage is hard work—”

  “I know that! I tried to make it work for years! I killed myself trying to live up to his expectations and your expectations. Trying to live up to all that potential you told me I had—”

  “You do have potential.”

  “Do you know what someone hears when you tell them they have potential, Dad? They hear that they aren’t good enough now. That if they just try a little bit harder, they’ll be worthy of love and affection and respect.”

  “You know that was never what we meant—”

  “Do I? Because ever since I left Trevor all I’ve heard from you is what a disappointment it was that I couldn’t make it work. Like I need to beg your forgiveness for leaving him. But you’re the ones who need to apologize to me. I wasn’t weak to leave him. That was the strongest I’ve ever been in my life. Do you know how hard it was to walk away knowing I was disappointing you?” Her throat closed off and she sniffed hard before she could continue. “He broke my confidence and I’m still putting it back together. So maybe ask him about that the next time you two have lunch.”

  “We don’t have lunch anymore,” her father said—but it was a correction of fact, not an admission of guilt.

  “Do you want me to be pleased about that?” She didn’t have any emotional reaction at all—like she’d been hollowed out.

  “I don’t know what you want from me,” he said finally.

  “I want you to be proud of me. That’s all I’ve ever wanted from you. I want you to say you understand why I had to leave—and I want you to mean it when you say it. I want you to see that I’m strong. Strong enough to make hard choices. Even choices that hurt me. Because I am, Dad. Even if it took me years to see it in myself. I want you to see it too. Running away from Trevor was the bravest thing I ever did and I’m sick of being punished for it. I love you, Dad, but if you can’t support me now, we’re never going to be closer than a Monday afternoon phone call with Mom once a week when I know you’re at a lecture.”

  “Samira…”

  She waited, but he didn’t say more and her throat closed off, choked with emotion. “I have to go,” she said, the sound strangled. “Good night, Dad.”

  He didn’t make another sound as she paused for a long moment before disconnecting the call.

  She’d never spoken to her father that way. Never even considered it. It felt wrong on so many levels—but also right. She’d finally said aloud all the things she’d been bottling up for years. She’d finally stood up for herself. Now if only she didn’t feel like she’d lost her parents in the process.

  Samira tossed the phone aside and squeezed a pillow to her chest, listening to the music from the party outside.

  She was strong. Strong enough to leave him. It was the right thing to do.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Aiden didn’t end up drinking the scotch. Or anything else. Though he may have been the only one at the party who stayed sober.

  Even Candy must have had several if the state she was in by the time they got back to the estate was any indication. And she wasn’t the only one. The party had migrated from the club to the terrace and the liquor flowed freely in both places.

  Not feeling moved to the same frantic revelry as the rest of his family, Aiden wandered back toward the cottage, hoping for the chance to talk to Samira—but when he approached the windows were all dark and he was too awake, too restless to go inside.

  He kept walking, down the landscaped paths of the estate. The moon had set, but he knew the grounds. His feet knew these paths and he didn’t stumble as he walked, head tilted back to take in the stars.

  It was a gorgeous night. A night for lovers—if one was feeling fanciful, which Aiden most definitely was not. But he still wanted to share it with Samira.

  He would have chosen her—if it had come down to a choice between public office and her. But did it matter if she refused to choose him?

  From the beginning it seemed like he’d been chasing her and she’d been running away. Was he a fool? Was it time for him to admit what should have been obvious from the start and let her go?

  Something deep inside him rebelled at the idea, but what could he say to her that he hadn’t already said? Would she even believe him if he told her he no longer wanted to run for office?

  He could make his i
mpact another way. He’d be a lawyer and come home to her each night. And if he did decide he needed to do more, his grandfather had never run for office and that had never slowed him down, politically. And neither had his father. He wouldn’t be giving up his dream. He would be chasing a better one. Happiness. Funny how he had a tendency to forget that he had a right to chase that one too.

  Lost in his own thoughts, he circled back toward the terrace—and nearly tripped over Candy, drunk off her ever-loving ass. “Aiden!” She swayed toward him with a loopy smile on her face.

  “Having fun?”

  She shrugged, even that small movement making her sway unsteadily. “Secrets and lies, secrets and lies,” she chanted in a sing-song voice. “You gotta follow your heart, baby bro. Don’t let these vipers poison you, okay?”

  “Okay,” he agreed without the first idea what she was talking about. He put an arm around her to steady her and get her the rest of the way up onto the terrace where he found them a table. He sat her down and insisted she drink some water, knowing she was going to be hurting in the morning if she didn’t, then looked around for her husband.

  “Where’s Ren?”

  Candy blinked at him uncomprehendingly. “Hmm?” she mumbled and then promptly dropped her head onto the table and fell asleep.

  “Okay. You stay here and I’ll find him.”

  Things were starting to wind down and Aiden moved through the remains of the party, looking for Candy’s husband to take her back to their room, but Ren was nowhere in sight. Eventually he circled back to where he’d left Candy, hoping she was coherent enough to tell him which room she was in so he could get her there, but when he got back to the table, his drunk sister had vanished.

  He searched the terrace again—this time looking for Candy—but instead all he saw was the groom slipping inside the house with his arm around the maid of honor in entirely too friendly a way. Aiden’s view was partially blocked and he really hoped he wasn’t seeing what he thought he was seeing, because it looked a lot like Tug was kissing the side of Alicia’s neck.

  “Aiden!”

  He spun at the cheerful shout—and there was Charlotte. Swaying a bit on her feet, but for a horrible moment he saw something in her eyes and knew—just knew—that she’d seen Tug and Alicia too. “Charlotte, I…”