In Your Arms (11 page)

              “I need to have fun. This thing with Ashton is hitting me hard. That woman has changed me in so many ways, you know?” Oh, do I.

              “I am so sorry, Charles. For everything.” For things you don't even know are happening right under your nose. He'll never truly forgive me.

              He shakes his head at me. “She's just another woman until I find the right one.”

              “How about we get sloshed and get you laid tonight?”

              “You'll be my wing man?”

              It wouldn't be that hard, and I could probably get out of here and be at Ashton's in less than twenty minutes.

              “Sure. How about her?” I nod towards a redhead who is dressed scandalously. She seemed to be eying the crowd of men, picking her prey.

              “Not my type.” I looked at Charles.

              “You love redheads.”

              “Not tonight I don't.” Fuck. He was going to make this difficult.

              “Fine, just tell me who you want to go home with.”

              “Why are you rushing me?” He was starting to notice that my behavior was off, I needed to throw off his suspicions of anything.

              “I'm not. Take your time.” I take a swig of beer and call over the bartender. “Can we get another pint of beer.” I would be needing it.

Chapter 18

Ashton Pennington

              My grandmother was pretty lucid today. She smiled when she saw me, and for a moment I thought she thought I was Joan again, she always seemed to really light up when she thought I was Joan.

              So when she said, “Ashton!” I was really surprised. This was my chance to ask her about Joan.

              “Hi, Elizabeth.”

              “I was wondering if you'd visit before the new year.” I gave her a soft smile.

              “You have me all afternoon, hope that's alright?”

              “Of course it is, sweetie. How are you redecorating your new penthouse?”

              “Redecorating?” I hadn't planned on it.

              “You're not redecorating? I thought my taste was a bit too retro for you, you're more up to date on interior designing.” I forgot that I told her that was a dream of mine. I was good at it, a few of my friends in Chicago have had me help redo their apartments. I never really thought about making it a business, but maybe I should.

              “I like your taste, but I wasn't thinking about doing anything to the penthouse anytime soon. It's still your home.”

              “Oh, Ashton. You don't have to wait until I'm gone to claim it as your own. It's yours, do as you wish. If anything, that will make me very happy.”

              “Thank you.” She pats my hand and smiles.

              “Have you even thought about what you wanted to do with it?” I nod.

              “I have actually. Making it a bit brighter to fit my personality, so more color and blends. I haven't actually looked for anything, yet.”

              “Well, when it's finished, I hope you show me some photos.”

              “I will.” I look outside, it's been lightly snowing for days. I longed for Spring days, it was my favorite season.

              “Is something on your mind?” It was time to bring up Joan. I needed the answers now, I may not have another chance to ask her.

              “Who is Joan? Is she my birth mother?” My grandmother's eyes widened in surprise of the question. I knew I'd finally be getting answers to my questions.

              “Where did you hear that name?”

              “You.”

              “Oh, dear.” She looked down.

              “Elizabeth, please tell me. For years I've felt like this outsider in my own family, and then you start calling me by her name, and start mentioning my father, and you did talk about a pregnancy and my name. I just want to know the truth.”

              “Your father would kill me if I told you.”

              “Please, Elizabeth.” I pleaded.

              She finally looked up at me. “You look so much like her.”

              I arrived home in tears. My grandmother told me everything, now the only thing I had to do was confront my father. I knew he'd never answer my calls, not unless I left a voicemail that I was going back to Northwestern.

              I sat down on my bed, aware that Braxton would not come over until late. He messaged me that he was held up with stuff for his book. I was kind of glad, I didn't want to tell him anything about this.

              “What was her name?” I asked.

              “Joan Montgomery. She was your fathers mistress.” She confirmed my suspicions. “Joan was a long time friend of your fathers. They met when they were in second grade, and she was always around. Her parents, they traveled a lot. They died in a plane crash when she was fourteen, and she went to live with her grandparents in California.

              “Your father married Veronica when they were nineteen. I made sure your father finished his business degree, so they were being cared for by me. By the end of his fourth year, he somehow ran into your mother around the time your sister was about to be born.”

              I felt...alone. I grabbed a pillow and hugged it. Braxton asked me why I did that while I slept, and I told him that it was just something I've always done. I did know why I did it.

              When I was five, I had started getting nightmares about monsters coming to get me. My father came into my room to tuck me in, and he told me that as long as I hugged a pillow, since the monsters couldn't handle two people, it would give the illusion that I wasn't alone, and they'd leave me alone. Soon enough, the nightmares went away.

              “I'm not quite sure what happened, but the affair went on for three years, until I caught them. I promised never to say one word to Veronica. That was until she came to me saying she was pregnant with you.

              “I didn't tell Richard, he seemed to have forgotten about her. I sympathized with her. Especially when she told me that she was sick.”

              “Sick? With what?”

              “Stage four brain cancer. They diagnosed it right when they did an ultrasound to see how far along you were, about six weeks, and they realized the cancer had metastasized. They tracked the cancer as closely as they could, but around the eighth month, she could barely go on.”

              “Hi, Dr. Furley, it's Ashton Pennington.” I had called his office.

              “Hello, Ashton. What can I help you with?”

              “Is there any way you can squeeze me in today? I've been having pains in my stomach, and I've just been made aware that I have a family history of cancer. It's been going on for about a month, I'm just a bit worried.”

              I could hear papers flapping. “Our lab technician is in today, but you have to be here by five. I'll examine you here and do labs.”

              “Thank you.” I was terrified that I could have cancer. My mother had cancer, while pregnant with me. I could of gotten her gene. My brother had the gene as well, so that meant I could have gotten genes from both my parents.

              “She didn't have treatment?”

              “Your mother didn't want to do anything that could harm you, so she refused to treat it. She said she would fight after you were born. But when we found out it was too late, we told Richard to come to New York with Veronica.”

              “You told them both.” She nods.

              “We knew that there was a possibility, your mother may not survive. Veronica was angry and Richard was in shock. Your mother made your father promise to take you in and she made Veronica promise that she'd treat you like her own. We planned the c-section, and immediately after you were born, your mother went into surgery to remove as many tumors as possible.

              “Everyone who came to see you could tell that you did not take after your father. You took after Joan. She lived to see you live four of your days before she went into cardiac arrest, she was so in love with you. Your mother loved you.”

              I was sobbing. My grandmother hugged me.

              “In my room at the penthouse, in a drawer next to my bed, there's a box of letters for you from her. Your father didn't allow me to give them to you because he thought it was in your best interest never to know about her. I disagreed which is why we stopped talking. I always thought you should have a say in whether or not you wanted to read them. I would like to add that there's also many photos of her in there.”

              I grabbed the box and brought it into my room. Inside there were two boxes, one marked for the letters, the other had the photos. I wasn't sure if I wanted to read the letters, but I did want to see a photo.

              I reached for a random photo and it was one of her pregnant with me. It was crazy how much I did look like her. We had the same gray eyes, her hair was the same color as mine, same face shape, same nose, and same body type. The picture said she was four months, and barely showing. She looked happy in the picture.

              It may sound cliché, but that's all I really wanted to be. Happy. I wanted a simple life, but I'd never get that.

              The sound of someone banging on my door woke me up. I laid still silently hoping that the person would go away...but they didn't. The banging continued, and I could hear someone yelling, trying to communicate.

              I looked at my phone to see two things. One: It was past three in the morning, I had to be at my doctors office at seven for my basic test results. Two: I had twenty missed calls from Braxton, and he had been texting me since I fell asleep.

              I grabbed my robe and walked to my front door. I opened it to find Braxton...drunk with a stupid smile on his face. I notice someone else, on the floor, asleep. Charles.

              “What are you two doing here?” I whisper.

              “We kind of need a place to crash.” He leans against the door frame unable to keep his balance, I roll my eyes.

              “You couldn't go to your apartment? Or your grandfathers?”

              “It would be rude to wake up my grandfather at this time.” I take a deep breath, afraid I might strike him.

              “I have a busy day tomorrow, did it not occur to you that it may be rude to wake me up at three in the morning?” I was very proud of myself for not yelling at him.

              “I told you I would be coming over late.”

              “I didn't think you meant this late!” Not so proud of myself now.

              I hear Charles groan and we both look at him. He wasn't going to really wake up anytime soon. It'd be impossible to get them to leave now that he's made himself comfortable in my guest hallway, UGH.

              “Wipe that frown off your face.” He takes a step toward me, and I take a step back. I knew my triggers. Guys who smelled of alcohol was one of them, I got flashbacks and I had panic attacks. It was horrible.

              “You two can stay in the guest rooms. I'll be in my room.” I say quietly and walk back to my room.

Chapter 19

Braxton Wright

              It was noon when Charles woke up and decided to wake me up as well. Last nights events rushed to me as soon as my head lifted from the pillow, also the massive hangover came with it. I just wanted to crawl into a hole of quiet.

              “Are we where I think we are?” I hear Charles ask.

              “If you mean Ashton's penthouse, yes. You told me you needed to profess your love for her, tried to stop you, you were very determined. We got here, and you fell asleep in the hallway before she even answered.”

              “Oh, god.”

              “She wasn't very happy to see us last night.”

              “Well after what you did, I don't blame her.” I hold my tongue. “I need to apologize.” He walks out, and I follow him, putting my shoes on quickly.

              “Ashton!” I hear him call out, but there was no answer. I walked into the kitchen just to find cold coffee and a note.

              I get home at three. Please don't be here when I get back. The coffee is in to-go-cups for a reason.

              Ashton. X

              “Yeah. She's very pissed.” I mutter, and I hear Charles step into the kitchen.

              “She left a note?”

              I show it to him. “She's not going to accept your apology.”