Discreet: The Discreet Duet: Book I

by French, Nicole

  He really was beautiful. His hair, long pulled from its typical knot at the top of his head, spilled over the pillowcase, an unruly mass of about five different shades of gold. Only a little bit of his scruff had regrown overnight, so I could still enjoy the clean lines of his jaw and cheekbones, razor-edged even in his sleep. His full lips pouted slightly while he slept, almost like he was still begging for the kisses he had taken again and again before we had both fallen into a dazed slumber.

  But there wouldn’t be any more of those today. I had a race. More than a race. A reclamation. It had been a simple goal, but one to work for until I could wrap my head around the larger questions, the ones that really mattered. And then there were a few more questions that needed to be answered: namely, what did the future hold for my mother and me?

  Not wanting to wake him, I slid cautiously out of the bed and started putting on the gear I had set out the night before: the old triathlon suit I’d dragged out of storage and a pair of flip-flops. I’d packed everything else into the race day bag a week before.

  “You’re awake.”

  I zipped up the front of my suit and turned around. “Yeah. Call for the race is at six thirty. I doubt there will be big lines, but I want to get there first to get my stuff set up.”

  Will toppled out of bed, doing little to cover his naked body. He caught me ogling him and grinned. “You know, you don’t have to do this race.”

  “Are you already trying to talk me into underperforming in my life to please you?” I joked after accepting his warm kiss.

  Will frowned. “Of course not.” He glanced behind me at the bag. “You look ready to go.”

  “I was just going to grab some breakfast at the house before I head back to the inn. You can stay here and sleep if you want.”

  Will just tugged on his jeans—without anything under them, as it was—and rolled his eyes. “Give me a second, Lil. I’ll be right behind you.”

  We walked up to the main house and into the kitchen, where I went about making some coffee for Will (and Mama when she was up for the day) and grabbing a small breakfast for myself.

  “That’s all you’re going to have?” Will asked, looking skeptically at the small bowl of oatmeal I set out.

  I shrugged as I tucked in to my food. “I don’t need much. Otherwise I’ll feel kind of sick later.”

  Will examined the oatmeal. “I’ll make sure I have a couple of extra protein bars for you when we meet up for the run.”

  I swallowed my bite. “You don’t really have to do the run with me, you know. That’s where it will be really crowded, especially at the end when we get to the finish line. A lot of people will probably have friends and family race the last bit with them, not to mention the well-wishers. If you want to stay at your house, I can meet you there later.”

  “I’m coming, Maggie,” Will said before taking a measured sip of his coffee. “Important to you?” He pointed at me. “Important to me.” He pointed back to himself. “Enough said.”

  I opened my mouth to respond. I wasn’t used to this—a man actually caring enough about me to put aside his own comforts. Show up. Be there. But before I could express my gratitude, a chime interrupted me—a text message from my phone.

  Will flinched at the sound, like he’d never heard a basic text chime before. When I made no move to answer it, he just closed his eyes and exhaled.

  “You’d better get that,” he said as he pushed off his seat. “I need to use the bathroom anyway.”

  I nodded absently as he left. I unlocked my phone, opening up the message.

  Good luck on the race today, Flower. I’ll be rooting for you. And then we’re going home.

  I stared at the text for a very, very long time. The number was unknown, but only one person in the world had ever called me “Flower.” And he had just been released from a minimum-security state penitentiary. With a potentially large grudge.

  I shuddered and closed my eyes. Relax, Maggie. It’s going to be fine.

  “What’s wrong?”

  When I looked up, he must have seen something in my face, because immediately, Will returned to his stool at the counter and tugged me between his legs.

  “Who was that, Lil?”

  “N-no one,” I said closing my eyes against the stutter that would not disappear completely. The phone lay innocuously on the countertop, but when I looked at him, Will was glaring at it.

  “Maggie.” He enunciated my name clearly. “You look like a ghost. Who the fuck was that?”

  When I didn’t answer, Will grabbed the phone off the counter and stood up as he tried to look at the screen. If I hadn’t already been upset, I might have laughed. From the way he was using it, it seemed like Will hadn’t used a cell phone for a very long time.

  “Hey!” I yelped, jumping up. “That’s my phone! Give it the fuck back!”

  “How do you even open this thing?” Will demanded, turning his broad back on me while he swiped his thumb again and again across the screen.

  “It’s an iPhone, you goon. They’ve updated their technology since you threw yours off a pier.”

  I reached around and snatched it back, but there was no dissuading him.

  “Maggie,” Will said again. He opened his mouth like he wanted to argue, then shut it, apparently to try another tactic.

  “It’s nothing,” I pleaded as I moved to the other side of the kitchen. I set the phone on the counter and made a big show of starting the dishes.

  “Maggie.”

  “Please. Will, can you just let it go?”

  There was a long silence while I ran a sink of soapy water. Then he said the last thing I expected.

  “I love you, Lil.”

  I shut the water off and looked up. “What?”

  Will smiled—not the kind of smile that was mischievous or vulnerable, but one that was open and, well, loving. A smile that was for me.

  “I love you,” he repeated. “Do you love me too?”

  The question was so simple. So disarmingly direct. Since I’d met him, Will had been cagey and secretive, offering pieces of his past, of himself to me in crumbs that left me starving for more, and often frustrated when no more was offered.

  But here he was, putting his trump card on the table, and asking for mine in return.

  And, to my additional surprise, I found I had absolutely no problem giving it.

  I loved him. Of course I loved him, though the thought, the word, caught me off guard. I’d loved him a long time before it had occurred to me that I could. It didn’t matter that we still had so much to learn about each other. It didn’t matter that we were both clearly damaged people with a mountain’s worth of baggage. Will made me sing in ways I never thought would be possible again—both literally and metaphorically. He played my body like it was an instrument he’d studied his entire life, not because of the physical connection, but because when we were together, I didn’t feel like I was Maggie Sharp or Lily pad or Margaret or anything else. With Will, I was my purest song, a voice that sang much more than a simple melody.

  “Yes,” I said without hesitation. “I love you too, Will.”

  Our eyes were glued to one another, locked in a tight bond that only comes from moments like these: moments where you truly bare your soul. Will leaned across the counter, set his big hands atop mine, over my phone, my bent fingers, and pulled me forward. His green eyes reflected the glassy surface of the lake outside—full of light and fathomlessly deep.

  “So,” he murmured as he bent close enough to kiss me. “Here we are.”

  His mouth hovered over mine, but didn’t touch.

  “Will,” I murmured, transfixed. He smelled of coffee, sun, water. My Will. The message and the race seemed extremely unimportant. Forgettable, even.

  “Maggie.”

  “You should kiss me now.”

  The smiled widened. “Okay, then.”

  When his lips touched mine, it didn’t matter that it was almost six in the morning. That there was a mildly thr
eatening text on my phone. Or any of the other myriad problems we still had to deal with.

  All that mattered was this kiss, this love. This moment.

  That was what Will did to me.

  “Okay?” he asked a minute later after he pulled back, looking like he was anything but as he adjusted the front of his pants.

  I sighed, fully content. My eyes clenched against the waves of emotions rocking through me. I felt solid and strong, yet also like I could crumble. It was intoxicating. Terrifying. Electrifying.

  Slowly, my body came back to me.

  “Yeah,” I said. “I am.”

  “Good. Now open your phone and show me the text.”

  My eyes shot open. “What?”

  Will smirked. “Do it, Maggie.”

  “You told me you loved me so I would show you my phone?!” I shrieked in a half whisper, not wanting to wake up Mama. “You asshole!”

  Will quirked a blond brow. “Yeah, but I’m an asshole who loves you. And I deserve to know who the fuck is making my woman look like a goddamn sheet. Just show me.”

  I swallowed. “It’s—it’s nothing.” But I was all out of excuses. I unlocked the phone and handed it to him, feeling like a guilty child while he read the message for what seemed like an hour.

  At first he didn’t say anything after he set the phone back on the counter, just rubbed his chin, which was still only lightly covered with gold stubble.

  “Your ex?” he said finally.

  I nodded. “I—I think so.”

  “I’m assuming his real name isn’t ‘Unknown.’”

  I shook my head. “I wish I didn’t know him. Theodore del Conte is what’s on his birth certificate.”

  Will started at the name, and his eyes flew open. “Your ex-boyfriend is Theo del Conte? The producer’s son?”

  I frowned. “You know him?”

  Will swallowed. “I worked in the entertainment industry in New York, Maggie. Max del Conte owns one of the largest conglomerates in the world, including a big studio. So yeah, I know who Theo del Conte is. He’s a spoiled asshole who treats everyone like shit. What was someone like you doing with him?”

  He looked at me strangely, almost like he was trying to see something I was hiding.

  I gulped. So many people had asked me that over the last year, since Theo and I had split so violently, and I’d never had a good answer for it. It was hard to explain—the way his attentions in the beginning had been so overt, almost naive in their over-the-topness, how addictive it had felt, for the first time in my life, to be the center of someone’s life. To be told, without reservation, that I was beautiful. Adorable. Brilliant. Worth loving.

  And then it was even harder to explain how that effusive praise had devolved, but gradually, slightly. First accompanied by minor criticisms that only undercut my sense of self so much to hurt, but never so much he couldn’t deny the effects. I’d be even more beautiful if I got a nose job. I’d be close to perfect if my hair was straightened or if I just did a few more lunges. And all of it, all of it, was offered under the pretense of grooming me for my future music career, which he knew drove just about everything I did.

  All I wanted in the world was to share my music, and while I wasn’t dating Theo for his connections, I’d have been lying if I said the carrot of his father’s influence wasn’t attractive. But I wasn’t ready, he always told me. He wanted to give my music to his father. He wanted to see me soar. And that was how he justified all of his insidious critiques for as long as he did—he was just getting me to a place where I’d be heard.

  Finally, though, I began to see his bullshit for what it was. I’d speak out when he put me down, sometimes even in front of people. The first time I did that was also the first time he slapped me across the face, hard enough to see stars. I didn’t stop, though, and neither did he, not until I gave him what he wanted: my obedience. My acquiescence. This continued for months, years, until finally, I refused completely. And that was the day I paid for it with nearly everything.

  Will remained still and unwavering while I explained it all to him as best I could. His eyes showed none of the usual suspects that generally made me clam up when I had to do this: there was no pity. No disgust.

  At the end, just like the last time I told the story, he looked like he wanted to punch someone—probably Theo—but I’d take that over pity any day.

  “So he’s the one who…”

  “Raped me.” There is was again. Maybe one day the word wouldn’t cut quite so much, but I wasn’t counting on it. I was already starting to understand that those traumas never completely die. “When I refused to marry him.”

  Will closed his eyes, like he was trying to get control of himself.

  “Maggie,” he said slowly. “You have to go to the police with this. It’s a violation of his parole, isn’t it?”

  Miserably, I nodded. “It is. It’s just…they haven’t always been that much help.”

  Will frowned. “How so?”

  Again, it was one of those things that was hard to explain. The way it had taken not once, twice, but at least five different reports of Theo’s abuse until the NYPD would even file an official report about it. The way I was consistently questioned about whatever I had done to provoke his behavior. What had I worn? What had I said?

  How was it my fault?

  While I tried to recount those events to Will, I could see clearly how the next conversation with them would go.

  I’ll ask you again, ma’am. Are you sure you didn’t contact him in any way?

  Why would he be contacting you now? You must have done something.

  Sure, sure. We’ll look into it.

  And nothing would happen.

  Will listened patiently, again without any sign of judgment, until I finished. He placed his hands flat on the counter, like he was bracing himself against a strong wind, and then at the end, exhaled through his teeth for a long time.

  “Do you think he’s here?”

  I folded my hands together. “I don’t know. He may not even remember where I’m from, exactly. It’s not like we ever came here to visit Mama, and he wouldn’t have had a reason to have the address otherwise. I just…the race…how does he know?”

  Will shook his head. “I don’t know, Lil. But you’re not alone. And he can’t leave the state, even if he’s just been released.”

  I exhaled. I hoped to God that was true.

  “Okay, then. First,” he said while he pulled at his hair. “You’re going to do your race and kick ass. This fucker is three thousand miles away. He’s not going to be here any time soon. And when you’re done”—he bent down on the counter so he was eye to eye with me—“you’re going to call the NYPD and report this shit. It’s harassment, baby. He can’t get away with it.”

  I stared at my hands. My heart was beating harder than it did when I ran, and I could feel sweat building in my palms. “I—I c-can’t do this again with him,” I whispered. “You don’t understand. The last year of my life was…”

  Just the thought was terrifying. My stutter emerged, as strong as ever, and I closed my eyes against the deluge of fear that threatened to wash over me.

  For the last few months, I’d had a break, knowing that the biggest threat in my life was safely behind bars. And even when I’d discovered he was out, it had been easy to shove it aside for a few more weeks, ignore the texts, the warning signs. I was far away from New York, safe in Will’s arms, in the house where I’d grown up.

  But I couldn’t ignore it anymore.

  Will placed a hand over mine. His was so much bigger—his wide, warm palm almost more like a paw. His entire presence enveloped me, and my heart rate slowed. Until I looked up and saw the fear in his eyes.

  “I’ll be there with you,” he said slowly. “You’re not alone in this, Lil. I promise. But you need to call the police for another reason, too.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Because if he comes within fifty fucking feet of you, I’ll kill him
myself.”

  I watched, waited, while the fear and worry I saw in those green depths slowly receded. Receded, but never quite disappeared, and were replaced with a fierceness that I didn’t quite know what to make of.

  And suddenly, I couldn’t stand having anything in between us. Will watched with amusement as I hopped up on the counter and scrambled across until I could sit in front of him, wrap my legs around his waist, and pull him flush to me.

  “Thank you,” I said as I buried my face in his strong, broad chest.

  Clearly stunned, Will finally wrapped his arms around me, holding me to him. “For what?” he asked into my hair.

  I laid my cheek against his heart, closing my eyes as the strong, steady beat of it thumped. “For being here. For being on my team. For being you.”

  Will was silent, breathing in through the curly mess that must have tickled his nose like crazy. Then he exhaled again. “I’m here,” was all he said.

  We stayed like that for a long time, until both of our heart rates returned to normal. Outside the windows, the waters of the lake lapped at its edges, as hypnotic and calming as Will’s presence. And slowly, slowly, the facts of what I needed to do didn’t seem scary. It was just something else to take care of. My life was still my own. And it was time to live it.

  28

  “You ready?” Will asked next to me.

  We stood together at the water’s edge, where the lake met the wide lawn that spread out from the Forster Inn.

  The Forsters’ campaign had been successful—there were at least a hundred people here to compete in the first ever Newman Lake Triathlon. Their inn, not to mention vacation houses all around the lake and adjoining areas, was filled to capacity with the competitors and their families. The public beach on Muzzy Cove was jammed with people, all milling about in anticipation of the race.

  I’d gotten there early, set up my bike and running equipment at the designated transition points around the inn, and then found a quiet place by the water to wait with Will for the race to start. I pulled one foot against my butt, stretching out my quad muscle before switching to the other side.