FullDisclosure (23 page)

It had been beautiful and deeply spiritual—and she’d been unable to focus on any of it. All she could focus on was Noah’s hand latched firmly in hers—and the intense guilt and confusion that came with the morning light after their night of lovemaking.

She loved him. He loved her. They were committed to each other and were already considering a future together. There should be no guilt. Or so he said. She wanted to believe it—accept it. Make it a part of her. But it wasn’t so easy. She needed to get back home and discuss this with her father. And, more importantly, her mother. She needed the wisdom and advice of those she loved and respected right now. She needed it more than ever.

She had shared very little of this with Noah. She didn’t want him to know the war that she was waging with herself over him—especially since she was the one who had begged for sex last night.

Even as she thought it she winced.

“You all right?” asked Noah. “Is your stomach bothering you that much?”

To add to everything else she had lied. She had told him that breakfast hadn’t sat well with her. That her stomach was upset and that was why she needed to get home.

She shook her head. “No, no. I’m fine.” She squeezed his hand. “Really.” She gazed out the window noticing a set of golden arches looming in the distance. “Actually I’m feeling better. I think I’m more hungry than anything. Would you mind if we stop for lunch?”

“Sure. The food at Camp is good, but sometimes you just want a nice hefty hunk of mystery meat and processed white bread.”

She laughed, strangely comforted by his good humor. “Exactly.”

They sat munching on burgers and fries and slurping up the thick, creamy—very likely synthetic—goodness of chocolate shakes. A huge bank of windows allowed in a flood of golden sunshine that reflected off the harsh polished surfaces of rows of identical tables and chairs. The highway rest stop was busy. Packed with hungry travelers on their way to and from places unknown and unknowable.

She asked, “So how long ’til we get there?”

“Oh, about another hour. Depending on Toronto traffic, of course. But Sunday afternoon shouldn’t be too busy.”

She nodded. “Right. Good.” She would be with her father soon. So why didn’t she feel any better?

Then suddenly it hit her. “Hey. You were going to tell me something last night.”

He nodded, gazed at his fries, but said nothing.

“I interrupted you. I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay.”

Behind him a young mother picked up her infant and without an ounce of shame opened her top and drew the baby to her breast. The baby latched on and began to suckle greedily.

Startled and offended, she turned back to Noah to find him watching her. “There’s nothing wrong with that, you know,” he said. “It’s beautiful and natural.”

She swallowed thickly, embarrassed equally by her reaction as by what she had just witnessed. “I…suppose so. I’m just not used to it, is all.”

He nodded, swished a fry through some ketchup and then didn’t eat it.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, worried that she had somehow made a huge mistake and offended
him
. She couldn’t have Noah mad at her. She was angry enough with herself. She couldn’t bear that too.

“No, no.” At last he ate the fry. “I’ve just got some stuff on my mind.”

“Is it the thing you were going to tell me last night? Is that what’s bothering you?”

He shrugged.

“If so, you should tell me. I’m ready now. I’m sorry I didn’t want to listen last night.”

But again, he shook his head. “No. Actually, I’ve thought about it, and I’d rather show you.”

She frowned. “Show me?”

“Yes. It’s too hard to explain in words. I’d rather just show you.”

“O-okay.” She let out a nervous laugh. “You’re kind of scaring me, though.”

He grasped her hand again. “Oh, no. Don’t be. It’s just…it’s something about my family. I want you to meet my father when we get home.”

Relief washed over her. “Is that all? I’d love to!”

When he didn’t smile she leaned forward and said conspiratorially, “Why? Is there something
wrong
with him? Has he got a wooden leg or something?”

Noah managed a smile but it struck her as forced. “No, nothing like that. He just—” He cleared his throat. “He just means a lot to me.”

“Of course he does. I’m sure I’ll love him, Noah. You have nothing to worry about.” She thought of something else. “Or are you afraid of the opposite? Are you afraid he won’t like
me
?”

“Oh no.” This time the smile was genuine. “No worries there. He’ll love you. I’ve told him so much about you—he already does.”

“Good.” She sucked back the last of her shake. “And you’ll have to meet my father too. I hope you like him. You may not have a lot in common with Mr. Right-Wing-Ultraconservative CEO.”

“Oh, I’m not worried. I have a feeling we’ll have lots to talk about.”

Sadie woke to the aromas of fresh-brewed coffee, bacon—and sex. The scent of it clung to the bedclothes like the echo of a half-remembered dream. But it hadn’t been a dream at all. There had been sex. Quite a lot of it, if she recalled correctly. And the warm body snuggled up to her beneath the sex-soaked sheets was positive proof of it.

Adjusting her position in order to see him better, she ran her fingers over an unshaved cheek. “Morning,” she said.

Jake’s eyes flickered open immediately, and she wondered if he had really been asleep or just biding his time waiting for her to awaken.

“Morning.” His smile made her tummy lift. “So how are you feeling this morning?”

“Hungry.” She shifted her hips on the bed and grimaced. “And sore.”

“Well, I can certainly do something about the former. And apologize for the latter.” He kissed her gently. “I’m sorry if we used you too hard.”

“You didn’t. And if you’re trying to kiss it better you’re kissing the wrong lips.”

“Snap!” he said, laughing. “You’ve turned into a regular hussy.”

“Is that word really still in common usage?”

“Probably not. I guess I’m a throwback.”

From the doorway Evan tossed, “A throwback to what? That is the question.”

“An earlier age of chivalry and gallantry?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of Australopithecus.”

“Hey!”

Sadie giggled.

Evan continued, “So are you two primates hungry or what? I made Western omelets and they’re getting cold.”

A moment later she was seated at the dining room table, digging her fork into yet another homemade creation that she’d had no part in making. “You know,” she said, sinking her teeth into a succulent combination of egg, bacon, onion and some creamy cheese that she couldn’t quite identify, “I could get used to being pampered like this.”

“I hope so.” Evan filled her mug with coffee. “I’d like you to.”

Jake plopped down at his plate, scooped up a big bite of egg, and proceeded to punch buttons on his cell phone. “Seems I have a message. I vaguely recall hearing a phone ring last night.”

Sadie smiled to herself, remembering exactly when the phone had gone off. His tongue had been buried in her pussy and upon hearing the phone buzz he had hesitated. He had taken a break but only long enough to flip the bird in the general direction of the phone, grin and get back to business.

Strangely, it had brought back memories of Philip and how his phone had always,
always
taken priority over her. No matter what he was doing, and whether it was a call, a text, an e-mail or a calendar event, when the phone buzzed, he answered. Not that she was unique, or that he took her for granted. At least not any more so than the rest of his family and good friends. Business took priority over any social engagement that he happened to be involved in at the moment—whether it was an evening of lovemaking, a charity gala or the birth of his grandchild, it didn’t matter. Business came first.

She still vividly remembered the day Cyril’s wife had given birth to their last child. They were all in the waiting room, on pins and needles, having heard that the baby was in distress and a Caesarean section might be necessary. Philip’s phone had rung, and upon answering it, and without a moment’s hesitation and barely an apology, he had taken his leave of them, muttering into his phone all the way to the elevator.

When Cyril had come out to announce that the baby had arrived safe and sound, thanks to an emergency section that had cost his wife several pints of blood, he had looked stricken by the absence of his father. And then his gaze had turned on Sadie, accusingly. As if
she
were somehow to blame for his father’s neglect.

It was strange, since Cyril had never struck her as a particularly doting or attentive father, and yet he liked to parade his children in front of his father as if they were trophies. And Philip’s casual disregard for the arrival of his latest accomplishment seemed to strike a particularly devastating blow to Cyril’s ego.

Sadie had apparently been a convenient scapegoat for his frustrations. Thank God his wife had been a decent enough human being. Out of all of Philip’s family she was the only one Sadie had cared for at all, and ironically their connection had been born out of the neglect they both experienced from their spouses.

It was so ironic. She had fallen in love with Philip exactly because he had made her feel beautiful and special and like she mattered. But within a few months of the wedding—of her being branded with his stamp of ownership, as she had come to see it in later years—she had become just as disposable as every other person in his life.

And then she had been disposed of permanently in prison. Or so she had thought.

“Sadie?” It was Evan. He laid his hand over hers, his eyes echoing the concern she felt in his touch. “Are you okay?”

“Hmm?” she asked, confused. “Of course I am. Why?”

He frowned. “Because you’re crying.”

“I am?” Only then did she notice that her cheeks were wet. She wiped the tears away, softly cursing her little trip down Self-pity Street. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me. I just—” She reached for her coffee, and was startled once again to feel Evan’s hand on hers.

“It’s okay, Sadie. You’re allowed to indulge yourself in moments of sadness.” He kissed her cheek. “You’re even allowed to be human.”

Jake saved her from bursting into a fresh round of tears—tears of disbelief and gratitude. “That was Karey,” he said, putting down the phone. “She was looking for you, Sadie. Something about Philip’s insurance policy.”

At the mention of Philip’s finances, she felt a sharp stab of anxiety.

Jake held his phone out to her. “She’d like you to call her.”

She stared at Jake’s hand as if it held a tarantula rather than a small electronic device.

“Sadie?”

“I’d really rather not. I have no interest in anything of Philip’s.”

Jake frowned, glanced at Evan, then back to her. “Well, I can certainly understand why you’d be upset, but…you’re entitled to that money, Sadie. And not just for the fact that you were his wife. You should have some compensation for the time you spent in prison.”

When she still didn’t reply, he added, “And what about school? You’re interested in hospitality, right? In learning more about wines. This could pay for that. It could be a door to a whole new life.”

Suddenly angry, she stood. “That’s what I thought Philip was too! A door to a whole new life. But look where he and his money got me!” She was crying again and she hated herself for it. “I don’t want anything to do with him. And…more importantly I don’t want anything to do with his son. If I pursue this I’ll have to deal with Cyril and…I can’t. I just can’t face him. He…” She looked to Evan. “He scares me.”

“I don’t blame you, honey,” replied Evan. “I’ve met Cyril a number of times and he’s pretty intense.”

“He’s not intense, Evan. He’s angry. And capable of things.” She turned away. “Things I’d rather not think about.”

“What makes you say that?”

“The way Philip used to talk about him. I think Philip was just a little bit afraid of his own son in the last few years. And I don’t blame him.”

The silence that followed that statement was electric. When she turned back to the two men, she noticed that they weren’t looking at her anymore, but at each other.

“You don’t suppose…” said Evan.

“I don’t know. I’ve never met the man, but he sure had enough to gain.”

“I can’t believe he was never investigated!”

She blinked, the implications slowly dawning on her. But she shook her head. “No. They did question Cyril, but he had an alibi. A very strong alibi. He was home with his family. Actually he and his wife were hosting a dinner party.”

“It’s easy to slip away from a party unnoticed. Especially when you live in a mansion.”

“No, it wasn’t like that. It was a small dinner party. Only two other couples. If he’d left he would’ve been missed. I don’t blame you for being suspicious. The police were too. Karey told me that the police reports commented on how smug he was. How he didn’t display a single morsel of grief. They used words like ‘cold’ and ‘calculating’. But his alibi was rock-solid.”