Darker (56 page)

“Mom…” I try to think of something to say to take that pain away. I step toward her and she holds up her hand to stop me.

“Christian. I am so mad at you right now. I suggest you don’t come any closer.”

“How did you know? That I lied,” I ask.

“For heaven’s sake, Christian—I’m your mother,” she snaps and dashes a fallen tear from her cheek.

I feel myself blushing, feeling stupid and slightly piqued at the same time. Only my mom can make me feel this way. My mom. And Ana.

I thought I was a better liar.

“Yes, you should look shamefaced. How long did this go on for? How long did you lie to us, Christian?”

I shrug. I don’t want her to know.

“Tell me!” she insists.

“A few years.”

“Years! Years!” she shouts, making me cringe. She so rarely shouts.

“I can’t believe it. That
fucking
woman.”

I gasp. I have never heard Grace swear. Ever. It shocks me.

She turns and paces to the window. I stay standing. Paralyzed. Speechless.

Mom just cursed.

“And to think, all the times she’s been here…” Grace groans and puts her head in her hands. I cannot stand by any longer. I step toward her and wrap my arms around her. This is so new to me, holding my mom. I pull her to my chest, and she starts to weep quietly.

“I’ve already thought you dead this week, and now this,” she sobs.

“Mom—it’s not what you think.”

“Don’t even try it, Christian. I heard you, I heard what you said. That she taught you to fuck.”

She’s said it again!

I flinch—this isn’t her. She doesn’t swear. It’s mortifying to think I have something to do with this. The thought of hurting Grace is excruciating. I’d never want to hurt her. She saved me. And all at once I’m overwhelmed by my shame and my remorse.

“I knew something happened when you were fifteen. She was the reason, wasn’t she? The reason you suddenly calmed down, seemed to focus? Oh, Christian. What did she do to you?”

Mom!
Why is she overreacting? Do I tell her that Elena brought me under control? I don’t have to tell her how. “Yes,” I murmur.

She groans again. “Oh, Christian. I’ve gotten drunk with that woman, spilled my soul to her so many nights. And to think…”

“My relationship with her has nothing to do with your friendship.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Christian! She abused my trust. She abused my son!” Her voice cracks, and once more she buries her face in her hands.

“Mom—it didn’t feel like that.”

She stands back and swats me around the head, making me duck.

“Words fail me, Christian. Fail me. Where did I go wrong?”

“Mom, this is not your fault.”

“How? How did it start?” She holds her hand up and continues hurriedly. “I don’t want to know that. What will your father say?”

Fuck.

Carrick will go batshit.

Suddenly I’m fifteen again, dreading another of his interminable lectures on personal responsibility and acceptable behavior. Christ, that’s the last thing I want.

“Yes, he’ll be mad as hell,” Mom interjects, correctly interpreting my expression. “We knew something had happened. You changed overnight—and to think it was because you got laid by my best friend.”

Right now, I want the floor to swallow me up.

“Mom—it’s been, it’s done, it’s gone. She did me no harm.”

“Christian, I heard what you said. I heard her cold response. And to think…” She puts her head in her hands once more. Suddenly her eyes fly up to meet mine, and widen in horror.

Fuck. What now?

“No!” she breathes.

“What?”

“Oh no. Tell me it’s not true, because if it is—I’ll find your father’s old pistol and I’ll shoot the bitch.”

Mom!

“What?”

“I know that Elena’s tastes run to the exotic, Christian.”

For the second time this evening, I feel slightly dizzy.
Shit.
She must not know this.

“It was just sex, Mom,” I mutter quickly—let’s shut that down right now. No way am I exposing my mother to that part of my life.

She narrows her eyes at me. “I don’t want the sordid details, Christian. Because that’s what this is—nasty, sordid, squalid. What kind of woman does that to a fifteen-year-old boy? It’s disgusting. To think of all the confidences I’ve shared with her. Well, you can be sure she’ll never set foot in this house again.” She presses her lips together in determination. “And you should cease all contact with her.”

“Mom, um…Elena and I run a very successful business together.”

“No, Christian. You cut your ties with her.”

I stare at her, speechless. How can she tell me what to do? I’m twenty-eight years old, for fuck’s sake.

“Mom—”

“No, Christian—I’m serious. If you don’t, I will go to the police.”

I pale. “You wouldn’t.”

“I will. I couldn’t stop it then, but I can now.”

“You’re just real mad, Mom, and I don’t blame you—but you’re overreacting.”

“Don’t tell me I’m overreacting,” she yells. “You are
not
going to have any kind of relationship with someone who can abuse a troubled, immature child! She should come with a health warning.” She’s glowering at me.

“Okay.” I hold my hands up defensively and she seems to compose herself.

“Does Ana know?”

“Yes, she does.”

“Good. You shouldn’t start your married life with secrets.” She frowns as if she’s speaking from personal experience. Vaguely, I wonder what that’s about, but she recovers herself.

“I’d be interested to hear what she thinks of Elena.”

“She’s kind of in your camp.”

“Sensible girl. You’ve fallen on your feet with her, at least. A lovely young woman who’s the right age. Someone you can find happiness with.”

My expression softens.

Yes. She makes me happier than I ever thought possible.

“You are to end it with Elena. Cut all ties. You understand?”

“Yes, Mom. I could do that as a wedding present to Anastasia.”

“What? Are you crazy? You’d better think of something else! That’s hardly romantic, Christian,” she scolds.

“I thought she’d like that.”

“Honestly, men! You have no idea sometimes.”

“What do you think I should give her?”

“Oh, Christian.” She sighs, then offers me a small wan smile. “You really haven’t taken in a word, have you? Do you know why I’m upset?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Tell me, then.”

I gaze at her and sigh. “I don’t know, Mom. Because you didn’t know? Because she’s your friend?”

She reaches up and gently strokes my hair, like she used to when I was small. The only place she would touch me, because it was the only place I let her.

“For all those reasons and because she abused you, darling. And you are so deserving of love. You’re so easy to love. You always have been.”

There’s a burning sensation at the back of my eyes.

“Mom,” I whisper.

She puts her arms around me, calmer now, and I hug her in return.

“You’d better go find your bride-to-be. I’m going to have to tell your father when the party’s over. No doubt he’ll want to talk to you, too.”

“Mom. Please. Do you have to tell him?”

“Yes, Christian, I do. And I hope he gives you hell.”

Fuck.

“I’m still mad at you. But madder at her.” Her face loses all trace of humor. I’d never realized how scary Grace could be.

“I know,” I murmur.

“Go on, off you go. Find your girl.” She releases me, steps back, and rubs her fingers under her eyes to wipe away her smudged makeup. She looks beautiful. This wonderful woman, who truly loves me, like I love her.

I take a deep breath. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Mom.”

“I know. Go.”

I lean down and gently kiss her forehead, surprising her.

I walk out of the room to find Ana.

Shit
. That was heavy.

ANA’S NOT IN THE
kitchen.

“Hey, bro, want a beer?” Elliot asks.

“In a minute. I’m looking for Ana.”

“She come to her senses and run off?”

“Fuck off, Lelliot.”

She’s not in the sitting room.

She wouldn’t leave, would she?

My room? I vault up the first flight of stairs, then up the second. She’s standing on the landing. I reach the top step and stop when we are eye to eye.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” she answers.

“I was worried—”

“I know,” she interrupts me. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t face the festivities. I just had to get away, you know. To think.” She caresses my face and I lean my cheek into her touch.

“And you thought you’d do that in my room?”

“Yes.”

Stepping up beside her, I reach out to her and we hold each other. She smells amazing…soothing, even. “I’m sorry you had to endure all that.”

“It’s not your fault, Christian. Why was she here?”

“She’s a family friend.”

“Not anymore. How’s your mom?”

“Mom is pretty fucking mad at me right now. I’m really glad you’re here, and that we’re in the middle of a party. Otherwise I might be breathing my last.”

“That bad, huh?”

Complete overreaction.

“Can you blame her?” Ana asks.

I consider this for a moment. Her best friend fucking her son.

“No.”

“Can we sit?”

“Sure. Here?”

Ana nods and we both sit down at the top of the stairs.

“So, how do you feel?” she asks.

I let out a deep breath.

“I feel liberated.” I shrug and it’s true. It’s like a weight has been lifted. No more worrying about what Elena thinks.

“Really?”

“Our business relationship is over. Done.”

“Will you liquidate the salon business?”

“I’m not that vindictive, Anastasia. No. I’ll gift them to her. I’ll talk to my lawyer Monday. I owe her that much.”

She gives me a quizzical look. “No more Mrs. Robinson?”

“Gone.”

Ana grins. “I’m sorry you lost a friend.”

“Are you?”

“No,” she says, sardonically.

“Come.” I stand and offer her my hand. “Let’s join the party in our honor. I might even get drunk.”

“Do you get drunk?”

“Not since I was a wild teenager.” We walk down the stairs. “Have you eaten?”

Ana looks guilty. “No.”

“Well, you should. From the look and smell of Elena, that was one of my father’s lethal cocktails you threw on her.”

“Christian, I—”

I hold up my hand. “No arguing, Anastasia. If you’re going to drink and toss alcohol on my exes, you need to eat. It’s rule number one. I believe we’ve already had that discussion after our first night together.”

An image of her lying comatose on my bed at The Heathman comes to mind. We stop in the hallway and I caress her face, my fingers skimming her jaw. “I lay awake for hours and watched you sleep,” I whisper. “I might have loved you even then.” Leaning down I kiss her, and she melts against me.

“Eat.” I motion toward the kitchen.

“Okay,” she says.

I CLOSE THE DOOR,
having bid farewell to Dr. Flynn and his wife.

Finally. I can be alone with Ana. It’s just the family left. Grace has had too much to drink and is in the den, murdering “I Will Survive” on the Karaoke machine with Mia and Katherine.

“Do you blame her?” Ana asks.

I narrow my eyes. “Are you smirking at me, Miss Steele?”

“I am.”

“It’s been quite a day.”

“Christian, recently, every day with you has been quite a day.”

“Fair point well made, Miss Steele. Come. I want to show you something.” I lead her through the hall into the kitchen.

Carrick, Elliot, and Ethan Kavanagh are arguing about the Mariners.

“Off for a stroll?” Elliot taunts us as we head to the French doors, but I give him the finger and otherwise ignore him.

Outside, it’s a mild night. I usher Ana up the stone steps to the lawn, where she takes off her shoes and pauses for a moment to admire the view. The half-moon is high above the bay, illuminating a bright silvery path across the water. Seattle is lit up and twinkling as a backdrop.

We walk, hand in hand, toward the boathouse. It’s lit inside and out and the beckoning light is our guide.

“Christian, I’d like to go to church tomorrow,” Ana says.

“Oh?”

When was the last time I was in church? I recall her background information; I don’t remember her being religious.

“I prayed you’d come back alive and you did. It’s the least I could do.”

“Okay.” Maybe I’ll go with her.

“Where are you going to put the photos José took of me?”

“I thought we might put them in the new house.”

“You bought it?”

I stop. “Yes. I thought you liked it.”

“I do. When did you buy it?”

“Yesterday morning. Now we need to decide what to do with it.”

“Don’t knock it down. Please. It’s such a lovely house. It just needs some tender loving care.”

“Okay. I’ll talk to Elliot. He knows a good architect; she did some work on my place in Aspen. He can do the remodeling.”

Ana smiles, then chuckles with amusement.

“What?” I ask.

“I remember the last time you took me to the boathouse.”

Oh yes. I was in the moment. “Oh, that was fun. In fact—” I stop and scoop her up over my shoulder and she squeals.

“You were really angry, if I remember correctly,” Ana observes while she bounces on my shoulder.

“Anastasia, I’m always really angry.”

“No, you’re not.”

I swat her behind and slide her down my body when I get to the door of the boathouse. I take her head in my hands. “No, not anymore.” My lips and tongue find hers and I pour all the anxiety that I’m feeling into a passionate kiss. She’s breathless and panting when I release her.

Okay. I hope she likes what I have planned. I hope it’s what she wants. She deserves the world. She looks a little intrigued and caresses my face, running her fingers along my cheek, to my jaw and chin. Her index finger pauses over my lips.

Showtime, Grey.

“I’ve something to show you in here.” I open the door. “Come.” I take her hand and lead her to the top of the stairs. Opening the door, I glance inside, and it all looks good. I step aside to let Ana go first, and I follow her into the room.