The Confession (26 page)

“No, I don’t think so, I was just cold.”

“Well, in that case … ” Mark stood up, and pulled the blanket off her, tossing it onto the floor. “I bet I could warm you up.”

Sitting up, she reached for the box on the table. “Later you can warm me up. Now, you have to go play with your power tools. I am dying to read your book.”

“You’re going to read it now, like right now?” His face was filled with anxiousness.

Reaching up her hand, she pulled his face down to hers and kissed him gently. “How about if I fix you dinner tonight, make it up to you?”

“Can we eat dinner naked?” He twitched his eyebrow up and down.

She laughed, and swatted him with the throw pillow. “Out, I want to read.”

“This is what I was afraid of. I write one fairy tale and my girl no longer finds me appealing. She would rather curl up with a book than me.” He stuck out his bottom lip and bowed his head.

Aimee shook her head, and smiled. “Okay, we can have dinner naked. Out.”

Mark let out a loud whoop, kissed her again, and skipped out the door.

Pulling her legs under her, she began to read.

She wiped a tear from her eye as she turned over the last page. He’d written an amazing story. It was a combination of Cinderella and Romeo and Juliet, told from the memories of a young girl in love. He referred to it as a fairy tale, but it was more than that. It was Emily and Nathan’s fairy tale, complete with the obstacles they faced disguised as wicked witches and powerful sorcerers. He knew Emily so well, and Aimee was sure she would see this was a fictitious biography of her and Nathan’s lives. A story of true love forced to wait out another lifetime to be together.

Aimee walked to the desk, pulled out a plain sheet of paper and began to draw.

Holding the envelope in her shaking hands, Aimee paced the front room of her cottage. The results were in, and as soon as she worked up the nerve to open the envelope, she’d know if Emily was her biological mother. She pulled the letter opener from the holder on her desk and slid the corner under one side of the sealed envelope. Her hand froze. She took a deep breath and willed herself to slide it forward.

The realization of how her life would change overwhelmed her. If the results proved Emily to be her mother, she truly believed that after the shock wore off, it would be happy news for both of them. She wanted to pull Emily into her arms and tell her she loved her, and she was finally home. She wanted feel the love pour from her as the emptiness faded from her eyes.

She also knew she would lose Mark to her own web of lies and deceit. At the thought of losing him, the envelope and letter opener slipped from her fingers and crashed against the desk.

If the results proved she wasn’t her mother, she knew she would feel an immense sense of loss. Never in her life had she wanted to belong to someone the way she did Emily Sinclair. In the months she’d worked for her, she’d grown to love and respect her in a way she barely understood, and never expected.

But she would be able to keep Mark? After she told him she wasn’t an office assistant and actually a famous handbag designer. That she’d never meant to lie, she just needed to be sure who she was. That she loved him and never meant to be dishonest. She had no idea how to convince him, how to make him understand.

She sighed again, and walked into the kitchen to pour herself a much needed glass of wine. Her hands continued to shake as she took a sip and let the crisp flavor wash over her tongue. Tonight was the big night. Emily’s fiftieth birthday party would start in a matter of hours and she still needed to shower and dress.

Luther was in town for the weekend and would be fighting her for the mirror before much longer. She hadn’t told him the results had come in this morning. She wanted to be alone when she opened them. To not be rushed or pushed to do it quickly and get it over with. The longer the envelope sat unopened, the more she regretted her decision. Luther would have already had it ripped open and the contents read aloud.

She needed to pull herself together. The results wouldn’t change because she hadn’t read them. She walked back to her desk, set her glass down and picked up the envelope. It’s like a Band-Aid, the faster you do it, the less it hurts, she told herself. Picking up the letter opener, she quickly slid it along the fold.

Setting the opener back down, she hesitantly reached inside and pulled out the folded sheet of paper. She’d somehow thought it would be more. Like a binder filled with laboratory results, or a long legal explanation that filled ten pages front to back. Instead, she slowly unfolded a single sheet of paper and read from the top to the bottom. She blew out the breath she didn’t know she was holding. Tears rolled down her cheeks.

Her head jerked around at the sound of the door opening. She wiped her eyes, trying to hide the tears as Luther strolled through the door, whistling an unfamiliar song, and wearing a smile that stretched from ear to ear.

“I’ve decided to quit working for you and when you move back to New York I’m going to take over your job here.” He brushed a kiss across her cheek and picking up her glass, emptied the contents in one gulp. “I love this place. I have an extremely large crush on Emily. I keep trying to talk her into letting me be her boy toy without the sex. I think I could definitely be a kept man. I don’t have a lot of pride to work around, and she can afford to keep me in the lifestyle to which I plan on becoming accustomed. Why aren’t you dressed? I hate sharing a bathroom with you. You’re such a mirror hog.”

Aimee smiled and shook her head. She’d missed her friend and his crazy rants that were impossible to follow. Glad he was here, especially now, she leaned over and rested her head against his shoulder.

“What’s wrong? Are you crying? What happened? Was it Mark? He may be bigger than me, but I’m quicker and I think I could do some damage to his pretty little face before I had to run to protect mine. You know how much I treasure my face. It’s hard not to love it, don’t you think?”

Without lifting her head, she nodded, her cheek brushing back and forth against the soft cotton of his shirt.

“Aimee, what is it? I hate to see you cry.”

Lifting her head and stepping back, she handed him the sheet of paper she clenched in her hand. She walked into the kitchen, refilled her glass, and poured another for him.

Walking in behind her, he took the glass she offered him and remained unusually quiet. His eyes watched hers over the rim of his glass, seeming to await her reaction.

“She’s my mother,” she said breathlessly. “Emily is really, truly, my mother.” Tears began to run down her cheeks again.

“I thought this was what you wanted.” Luther sounded confused.

“It is. I do. I’m so happy. I really am, I just … ” She let her head fall forward.

“Is it Mark?”

“This has all been such a double edged sword. Somehow I have to pick between them and it’s my own fault. I don’t want to pick. I’m in love with him, Luther. In love in a way I never believed existed. But — ”

“But Emily’s the mother you always wished you had.”

She nodded her head. “She needs me. I really think she needs to know it’s me. She’s waited so long, never giving up hope.”

“You have to tell her. Regardless of anything else, you must tell her. She deserves to know. She’s a fantastic woman, and so are you. She’s going to be ecstatic to see the baby she never knew turned out to be a woman she already loves.”

She walked into his arms and let his confidence seep into her. He placed his hands on her arms and set her back to look into her face.

“What are you going to say to Mark?”

“Oh Luther, I don’t know what to say. What can I say to make this seem less of a crime? For Mark, this is the greatest of all wrongs. I really want to believe he could forgive me for my deception but I don’t know. I’ve been lying to him since we met. I’m not sure he will ever get past that.”

Neither of them heard the front door close.

Mark slammed his hand on the counter. His mind raced with worst-case scenarios. What was she hiding? What had she lied to him about? He felt like a fool. For the first time in his life he’d let himself believe in someone. He’d let her into his heart, and now the pain had him wanting to rip it out of his chest.

Pounding his fist again, he pushed away from the counter and walked purposefully over to his desk, yanking open the bottom drawer. He pulled out the sealed envelope from the investigator and tore open the flap. His stomach was in knots.

Reading the report, he found himself riddled with more questions. She was also known as Aimee Roberts, and she owned Amore’ Handbags? So what was she doing working for Emily? What would have sent her to a temporary placement agency in San Francisco?

He flipped his laptop open and typed in Amore’ Handbags. He couldn’t see anything that would send her to work at another job. And why wouldn’t she say anything? Why would she be working here and not New York? He tried to recall the first day he’d met her, the day of her interview. She’d seemed disoriented, almost confused. He’d believed it was nerves at the time.

He scanned farther down and clicked on a blog that mentioned Amore’ and Aimee by name. He read the information posted by a long time customer named Lucy Strand. She’d heard firsthand that Aimee, and subsequently, Amore’ Handbags, was in financial difficulty and that Aimee’s chance to pull herself out of her situation lay in a secret benefactor in San Francisco.

He clenched his fists, and pulled large gulps of air into his lungs. He could feel his heart physically shredding into tiny pieces. It couldn’t be true. He desperately needed her to be who he thought she was.

He picked up the phone and called information.

“Lewis Employment Agency in San Francisco,” he said to the recording.

He waited while the computer looked up his request and pushed the button to connect the call.

“May I speak to Janet Lewis please? This is Marcus Lee calling.”

The wait felt like an eternity. He paced the room, cursing out loud when he bumped his shin on the table. Leaning against the arm of the couch, he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block the memory of Aimee sitting beside him, her head thrown back in laughter, her eyes alight with happiness.

“Mr. Lee, how nice to hear from you,” said the voice on the other end of the line. “What can I do for you? Is Ms. Sinclair still looking for an assistant?”

The room began to spin. “Still looking?” His heart rate increased, sounding like a marching band in his head. He turned and sat on the edge of the couch, not trusting his own ability to stand.

He could hear the confusion in her voice. “I wasn’t sure if she’d gone with another agency. Our candidate had a family emergency and failed to notify us when she’d been unable to attend her scheduled interview. When I called to speak to Ms. Sinclair — ”

“Your candidate didn’t show?”

“I’m sorry, no. I called Ms. Sinclair’s office the minute I heard and offered to send another candidate immediately, but I was informed by her associate that she was no longer looking.”

“Her associate?” Mark ran his hand through his hair. Taking a deep breath, he asked, “So you didn’t send Aimee Morrison to meet with Ms. Sinclair?”

“I don’t believe so. I can’t imagine my assistant filling a position and not informing me. Would you like to hold a moment while I check the files?”

“Yes, thank you.” Standing up, he slowly paced the room.

The seconds ticked by like hours. When she finally returned to the phone, he felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. “Mr. Lee, according to my records, Aimee Morrison has never been a client with us. Would you like — ”

The phone slammed against the wall, tiny pieces of plastic scattering across the room.

Aimee knocked. She tried the handle again. It wasn’t like Mark to lock his door. When he hadn’t shown up to walk her to the party, she’d started to worry.

“I’m sure everything’s fine. Maybe Emily needed him to do something and he’s up at the house,” Luther said, trying to reassure her.

Her paranoia set in the minute she’d made the decision to tell Mark the truth immediately after the party. She couldn’t keep the news to herself any longer than that, and she needed to tell him first. She couldn’t shake her overwhelming feeling of doom.

“Maybe you’re right.” Taking his outstretched hand, she followed him to the house.

“Did I mention how beautiful you look tonight?” he said, in an obvious attempt to distract her.

She ran her hand down the mint green cocktail dress she’d had Luther bring her from New York. It clung to her frame like a second skin, leaving her back bare but for a simple silver chain that hung from the neck and landed at the curve of her hips.

“You did, and did I mention that you are a stunning vision yourself?” He’d chosen a cream colored linen suit, worn over a casual peach shaded, button-less shirt. “There are very few men who can still pull off the Miami Vice thing. You wear it so well it could be back in style by morning.”

“Let’s hope not darling, I very much prefer my originality. Plus, even if they attempt to wear it, they could never wear it like this.” He waved his arms up and down the length of his frame.

Entering through the back door, Aimee headed directly for the kitchen, and Luther shot straight to the open bar. The kitchen was bustling with workers taking orders from a very persuasive Mimsey.

“No, place the rosemary around the edge of the tray, Kim. We don’t want to overpower the flavors in the chicken bites. It’s simply for decoration purposes. Yes, perfect, thank you dear.” Mimsey continued to walk from tray to tray, inspecting the job of each of her servers.

“So how is everything going?” Aimee asked, stealing a cube of cheese off a nearby tray.

“Well now, would you look at you,” Mimsey said before letting out a faint whistle. “Our Marcus is going to lose his ability to breathe when he gets a look at you.”

Aimee blushed, but did a slow spin as directed. “Speaking of Mark, have you seen him?”

“No, I sure haven’t. I saw his car pull away a couple of hours ago. I thought he’d be back before now. He’s always so punctual.”