Unveiling Fate

by Jeannine Allison

  “I can see why you didn’t go into medicine,” I joked.

  Naomi was grinning when she pulled me into a hug. “Grayson’s not going to know.”

  “Know what?” A deep—and very familiar—voice asked from behind me.

  My eyes squeezed shut as I solidified in Naomi’s arms. “Oh God, oh God, oh God,” I whispered into her hair.

  “Is everything okay?” That was Damien. He must have walked in right behind Grayson.

  We pulled away and I turned around. My brother was shifting his gaze between us, unsure of whom he needed to be concerned for. I tried to stop myself from looking at Grayson, but it was pointless.

  He was staring at me, calculating and knowing. Oh God.

  “Ellie?” My brother’s voice brought my stare back to him.

  “I’m good,” I squeaked out. I could imagine Naomi rolling her eyes. Again. Didn’t she get a headache?

  “I was stalking Veronica’s Instagram page,” she said to Grayson. His eyes widened in surprise. It was so hard not to whip my head around and smack Naomi in the arm. My heart was beating wildly in my chest.

  Grayson knew. He thought I was a crazy, creepy stalker who was in love with him. He wouldn’t want to be my friend anymore. He wouldn’t—

  “And Ellie was worried about me knowing?” His eyebrows pulled down into a frown.

  “Of course not. That’d be silly,” Naomi said with a wave of her hand. My palms started sweating. He was trained to detect lies.

  “I was telling her how hot I thought Veronica was and if Damien ever wanted a three-way, she’d be my first choice.” I couldn’t stop my jaw from dropping. “She thought it’d make you uncomfortable.”

  Naomi said all this like it was completely normal, while both men seemed at a loss on how to respond. After a few seconds Grayson cleared his throat.

  “She was right,” he said before walking out the door. My eyes moved to Damien. I was sure he would still have questions. But he didn’t.

  He shook his head at Naomi. “Like I would share you.”

  “Smart man.” She grinned.

  I watched my brother walk forward and gently kiss her on the lips. “We came in to tell you we’re going back to your place to grab more of your stuff,” he said softly before leaving the room. Naomi was smiling like crazy.

  “What just happened?” I asked, still a little stunned.

  She looked my way. “A little lesson in deception… men’s brains short-circuit when they start thinking about two women together. It completely distracts them from everything else.”

  “Damien was only thinking about you, and Grayson wouldn’t be thinking about his sister that way…”

  “True. But the distraction still worked.”

  I was pretty impressed, and extremely grateful. Explaining my weirdness was never fun, especially not to the guy I liked.

  We both looked over when someone walked in. It wasn’t anyone we were expecting though. It was Naomi’s older brother, Derek, and he looked like crap. His hair looked like he’d been tugging at it and his posture screamed of defeat.

  “What’s wrong?” Naomi immediately asked.

  He shook his head and stared at her, lost and confused. “She’s leaving.”

  “What? Who?”

  “Sam.”

  I grabbed the half-finished scarf I was knitting off the kitchen table and moved down the hall to give them some privacy. I was still in hearing range when Naomi asked, “What do you mean?”

  I didn’t know much about the situation other than Sam was Gabe’s younger sister and about six years Derek’s junior. Oh, and that Derek was “an idiot who was in love with her.” Naomi’s words, not mine.

  I slipped into my room before I heard his answer—I had too much of my own boy drama to worry about anyone else’s. My back hit the door as soon as I closed it. I looked over to see Andy still sleeping and then I moved to my bed. Resting my hands on my stomach, I laid on my back and stared at the ceiling.

  My thoughts drifted to my parents. I’d thought about them right after I gave birth, wondering what it would’ve been like if they’d been there with me, but otherwise had kept memories of them at bay. The more time I spent with Andy, though, the more I had to consider that maybe Damien and I had been wrong about them. Because I looked at my son and couldn’t imagine a day I wouldn’t love him with absolutely every single piece of me. Maybe we were too young to recognize that they were simply strict parents. Maybe they’d want to know their daughter and son again, or their grandson… Maybe they’d changed.

  They only lived fifteen minutes away, it’d be so easy to reach out to them. But I knew Damien would never agree to it. He was adamant that they didn’t deserve any more chances.

  Letting out a defeated sigh, I curled on my side. My gaze landed on my nightstand. More specifically, on the necklace Grayson had given me after Andy was born. I tried to wear it all the time, but I’d taken it off when Andy started tugging on it this morning. With a smile, I reached over, grabbed it, and fastened it back on my neck.

  Somehow my mind always managed to come back to Grayson. No matter how many times I tried to stop myself from thinking about him, I couldn’t. He was everywhere. Even in my exhaustion and with taking care of Andy, I couldn’t escape him. If I wasn’t awake and thinking about him, I was asleep and dreaming about him.

  I quickly realized that commanding myself not to dream about Grayson was about as successful as asking the sun not to rise.

  It was pointless. And even if I could manage it, my world would be darker because of it.

  When I came back an hour later, I found Ellie lying on her bed, Andy asleep next to her.

  I slowly pushed the door open and whispered, “Hey. We finished bringing everything in. I just wanted to say goodbye.” Holding the door with a firm grip, I cleared my throat and nodded. “So… bye.”

  Ellie chuckled as I backed up. I stopped, my lips turning down into a frown. “What?”

  “Nothing, it…” She trailed off, her cheeks coloring. One of her arms was bent, her hand propping up her head, and the other was affectionately rubbing her son’s belly.

  “You could stay for a while… if you want,” she said shyly. My gaze snapped to hers. She immediately looked down, watching the rise and fall of Andy’s chest. “It’s not a big deal if you don’t want to,” she quickly added.

  If I wasn’t so nervous, it would have been my turn to laugh. Ellie had no idea of the effect she was having on me. I’d already resigned myself to the fact that I couldn’t stay away from her, but being alone in her bedroom was another story.

  It helped that Andy was there. But he wasn’t enough to distract me from her slim legs stretched out on the bed, her long white T-shirt hiked up more than normal as a result. Or the curve of her neck, in plain view thanks to the bun on top of her head. It was as if this scene was set up specifically to torture me.

  I wasn’t sure why I was still standing there as if a decision had to be made—it was decided when she asked me to stay.

  Only when she heard me softly shut the door did she glance up. I roughly swallowed as I walked over to the bed. Ellie shuffled backward, moving Andy with her until her back hit the wall. The bed looked like a full, so it would definitely be a tight fit.

  My eyes stayed on Ellie’s as I toed off my shoes and carefully sat down. Then I shifted into a position that mirrored hers.

  She looked toward the foot of the bed and started laughing. I could imagine how ridiculous I looked, with my feet hanging off and my backside teetering on the edge. But I hardly cared; I’d look ridiculous all the time if it got me that sweet laugh of hers.

  Grinning, I lifted my foot and lightly nudged her calf. “Are you laughing at me?”

  “Never.” Her smile softened. “Thank you for helping today.”

  “Anytime, Ellie.”

  My eyes drifted to her necklace, the one I’d bought her when Andy was born, and my face morphed into a frown. The chain was twisted.

  W
ithout thinking, I reached over Andy and gently grabbed the A before slowly turning it until it was free from the tangle. I carefully set it back, but when my fingers grazed the material of her shirt, I froze, realizing what I’d just done. How close my hand was to her…

  Snatching my fingers back, I swallowed down the uncomfortable lump in my throat.

  “I didn’t mean to…” My wide-eyed stare was on Andy, refusing to meet hers. “It was messed up; I had to fix it.”

  “I know,” she whispered. “It’s okay.”

  I wondered if she’d still think that if she knew how much I wanted to put my hand back, to touch her skin without anything in the way, to kiss—

  “Does that kind of stuff bother you a lot?”

  “What stuff?” I asked. But I already knew what she was asking, she’d alluded to it before.

  In a family of seven children, my parents weren’t avid neat freaks. They were prepared for messes, and my siblings delivered—a lot. My mother had actually tried to get me to make a mess once. She told me a little mess never hurt anyone.

  But I knew that wasn’t true. I’d seen her trip over one of Steve’s toys, and cut her hand on glass when my older brother, Brad, carelessly dropped a dish in the kitchen.

  Order and rules and paying close attention were crucial in keeping our loved ones safe.

  Messes did nothing but hurt people.

  “You know,” Ellie began. “How you repark your car, or fix a crooked picture. How you never leave a dirty dish out and make sure the area you’re working in is always organized.”

  She froze, like she hadn’t meant to reveal so much. Then she cleared her throat and set her attention on Andy, like my wandering hand and the subsequent conversation hadn’t happened.

  I didn’t mind. I was much too jumbled anyway. Because even though on the outside I looked composed, the inside was a completely different story. My heart rate kicked up and my lungs felt starved for air; thoughts bounced around in my head and my hand itched to reach back over.

  Normally I was insecure when people noticed these things, mainly because they had been the source of my notable difference from other children when I was younger, and being different always made a person a target. But I felt none of that now.

  All I focused on was what those observations meant: she noticed me. Maybe even as much as I noticed things about her. I knew she had a tiny mole on the inside of her left wrist, and a faint scar on the side of her pinky finger. I could tell you what her favorite thigh-highs were and which color shirts made her hazel eyes more green or brown. And there were dozens of stories I could recall just as easily.

  So to find out she was cataloging information too, somehow had my heart relaxing in relief and speeding up in excitement all at the same time.

  Her eyes were still focused on Andy, as they had been for the past five minutes, but mine were on her. I kept looking, not even caring if she caught me, which, eventually, she did. She startled, that blush I loved so much spreading across her cheeks, and her fingers twitching against her son’s stomach.

  “What?” she asked softly.

  My gaze was soft on hers when I smiled and said, “Nothing.”

  But that was a lie. My feelings, her feelings, our relationship… were all far from nothing.

  After the long day of moving, Naomi decided we should all go to dinner. Ellie declined, saying she still wasn’t ready to take Andy out. Naomi tried to explain he would be okay, but Ellie was adamant. I offered to stay with her and order pizza, and that was how we found ourselves hanging out and watching TV on a Friday night.

  Ellie walked back into the room. She had changed into a long black T-shirt and dark green thigh-highs. And even though I knew she had shorts on underneath, the fact that her outfit gave the appearance she didn’t had me squirming in my seat.

  Andy was resting against her shoulder, softly snoring, since she’d just finished feeding and burping him. She slowly lowered herself to the couch, and I turned down the volume on the television, setting the remote on the table next to the half-eaten pizza.

  “So you really don’t have a Facebook or Instagram account?” I asked. Somehow we’d started talking about social media before Andy woke up and began crying for dinner. I definitely had no interest in going back to Naomi’s comment from earlier today, but I was curious about why Ellie didn’t have an online presence. It was pretty uncommon nowadays.

  “Nope.”

  “Why not?”

  She seemed uneasy as she shifted to a more comfortable position. I didn’t retract my question, and I kept my eyes on her. Finally she sighed.

  “I’ve never had many friends.” The words were soft and filled with shame. “Before I started drinking I’d been so focused on classes, with being tutored after school and on the weekends, that I didn’t really have time for them. Once that ended, and I finally had time, I was kinda left on the outside looking in. I tried to play a few different sports. Turns out I’m as uncoordinated as a person can get.”

  I itched to reach over and cover her hand with my own.

  “The only time I had friends was when I was drinking. I was never alone. Alcoholics and druggies always had friends. And if you brought alcohol or drugs with you, everyone was always happy to see you.” She smiled sadly, her gaze still not connecting with mine. I never took my eyes off her, though. Whenever she decided to look up, I’d be there. I’d be waiting for her. “It wasn’t until years later I learned the truth.”

  “The truth?” I asked.

  “That the friends you made through your addiction weren’t really your friends at all. The few times I tried to get clean, I realized I had no one. I think that was why I always went back.” Her voice was small. “I mean part of it was a dependency on alcohol, but I think most of it was the fear of being alone.”

  God, Ellie. Please give me your eyes.

  “All of that makes social media kind of pointless. I tried. I’d comment, attempt to start a conversation, only to be ignored. All while they went on talking to everyone else. I can see how depression could be linked to social media. It was just another way to be ignored.” She laughed, the sound hollow. “That sounds so stupid.”

  I was done waiting for her. Scooting closer, I gently gripped her chin and lifted her face to mine. “No,” I said forcefully. “It’s not stupid. Everyone wants to feel important. There’s nothing wrong with wanting those things. I don’t have any accounts either,” I confided.

  “No?”

  Shaking my head, I brushed my knuckles along her jaw before dropping my hand. “I don’t have many friends, and it’s also safer.”

  “Safer?” she questioned.

  “Yeah.” I leaned back. “Even with privacy settings, I wouldn’t take the chance that someone I’ve locked up could find out my personal information. Since most of my family is in some form of law enforcement, it’s something that has been ingrained in us. Veronica is the only one who’s really active because she’s a designer and that’s all about advertising. Thankfully living in Paris lowers the risk significantly. She can post what she’s wearing and what event she’s heading to without too much worry. Dad still likes her to take a bodyguard and she never objects.”

  “Huh. I never would have thought of that.”

  “It becomes second nature in a family like mine.” Ellie nodded, but she still seemed sad. “I know it’s not the same and it isn’t much consolation—”

  “It helps,” she interrupted softly, her eyes locked on mine.

  Andy’s fist came up and hit her chin as he slowly woke. We both smiled down at him. The mood of the room seemed to lighten when he opened his eyes and giggled.

  We spent the rest of the night alternating between playing with Andy and talking. And in the lulls, my mind kept going back to what Ellie said.

  It helps.

  They were just two words. Two small, insignificant words that really held no meaning at all. But to me they were everything.

  I couldn’t do anything to change her p
ast. Just like no one would ever be able to alter mine. It was done; unfortunately, it wasn’t forgotten. Not even close. The only thing we could do now was adjust how we looked at it and the way we let it affect us.

  It helps.

  Those words stayed with me long after I left that night, and I knew they would be the words that sealed Ellie and me together.

  I COULD FEEL ELLIE’S stare on me as I reparked my car for the fourth time. Her attention definitely wasn’t helping me concentrate. It was actually her fault I had to repark so many times in the first place.

  The latest failure was a direct result of her idea to stretch while I was pulling back in. My eyes had moved to her when she lifted her arms behind the passenger headrest, her breasts straining against her black tank top.

  This time I’d been determined to block her out completely, and when I opened the door to check, I let out a breath of relief that I was straight.

  Finally.

  Turning to face Ellie, I asked, “You have the list?”

  She stifled a giggle. “Yep.” Lifting the piece of paper up, she turned toward the backseat. I followed her stare and grinned. When I looked back at her she was blushing. “It’s a habit.”

  Shaking my head with a laugh, I opened the door and stepped out. Ellie met me around back.

  “What’s so funny?” she asked.

  “That you think you’re a bad mother. Your first instinct is to check for Andy, even though we left him with Naomi and Damien only ten minutes ago.” I walked away, not giving her time to disagree because I knew that was exactly what she’d do.

  Ellie was silent as she sidled up next to me. I grabbed a shopping cart and we walked through the automatic doors. Then I steered us to the right side of the store.

  It had been a little over two months since Andy was born, and Ellie was hesitant about leaving her son. She’d only taken him out a handful of times, and this was the first time she was away from him. Damien thought something simple, such as a trip to the grocery store, would help ease her into it. I’d found out and offered to accompany her. I’d been so desperate to see Ellie that I agreed to go grocery shopping with her.