Chapter Sixteen
The two weeks following my confession to Bradley about loving him flew by.
And contrary to what I thought, it didn’t seem to have changed anything between us.
It shouldn’t have shocked me. After all, he had practically admitted to knowing all along.
Bradley worked a lot. He always had. That would probably never change and he enjoyed his work.
Hell, I loved that his work made him happy. It was his passion.
I also couldn’t help wishing that his passion for me was similar; his love, too.
Sometimes, when we did get to spend time together, it seemed like he did feel something more than a sincere desire to have me close by.
He treated Annalina as his own, made sure we were all comfortable and happy, and seemed to relax into his new roles as husband, son-in-law, and stepfather.
But I still worried about him.
His confession had blown me away.
I never would’ve guessed he had lost the woman he loved and their child in that fashion.
I knew he’d been married previously, and now I know why he said he’d rather not say much more than ‘she ended it.’
Understatement of the f*cking year right there.
He didn’t talk about it either. Even after that morning when I’d let it slide because of how raw he had seemed, I couldn’t manage to bring it up again. I knew enough to know he wouldn’t on his own again either.
I didn’t know what to do though.
But the information had told me one thing.
This tragedy is exactly why he acted the way he did.
It all made sense: the emotional distance, the lack of physical contact outside of sex, and being unable to really question his authority.
He needed control and letting me get close made him vulnerable again.
Problem was, he forgot one thing…marrying me had achieved exactly what he wished to avoid.
Now, he had opened up his life and his home to me and my family.
Something told me he didn’t really consider that when deciding he needed me closer and therefore, had to marry me to obtain his desired results.
Which only made helping him deal with his grief — something I’m sure he believed he’d done but hadn’t — easier to manage.
Problem was, I didn’t know where to begin.
Good news for all of us that the beginning of the long road to healing came not long after from an unexpected source.
His family.
~*~
The sound of a phone ringing startled me.
Jumping up, I went down the hallway toward the sound, unsure of where it came from. When I reached his office door, I paused and the phone stopped ringing.
Bradley hadn’t left his cellphone here; he’d sent me a text just a few hours ago telling me he was working late. Did he have another cell or a house phone? Either way, I’d never seen or heard him on anything except the one I knew about.
The phone rang again and thinking it must be someone trying to get ahold of him in an emergency, I entered the room and looked around until my eyes fell upon a cordless phone lighting up once more in an area of the room I’d never even walked close to. Rushing over, I picked it up and pressed the talk button, putting the phone up to my ear.
“Hello?”
“Oh!” A woman’s voice exclaimed. “I’m sorry. I must have hit a wrong key or something. I’m looking for my son.”
Trying to sound professional, I said, “This is Bradley Blackwell’s residence.”
To my shock, she laughed. “That would be my son. Who are you though? Nobody except Brad ever answers this phone.”
Who am I? Had Bradley not told his mother he got married?
As the thoughts raced through my head and I searched for something to say, his mother spoke again.
“Are you still there?”
“Uh, yes. Can I…um, do you want to leave him a message?”
I really didn’t want to tell her I was his wife if he hadn’t told her himself. If he hadn’t told her, he must have a good reason. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself.
“It doesn’t matter if I leave him a message, because he won’t accept my invitation anyway. He hasn’t in twelve years.”
At that, I took a seat in his chair and proceeded to do something I knew I shouldn’t — pry into Bradley’s relationship with his mother — especially since she didn’t seem to care that she was venting to a total stranger. “An invitation to what?”
“Thanksgiving dinner,” she replied, the cheerfulness in her voice replaced with sad, soft-spoken words. “And Christmas, too.”
“Oh, I see. I don’t mean to be rude, but…” I hesitated, afraid to ask the question forming my head for fear of offending her, yet unable to ignore her blatant misery.
“Yes?”
“How long has it been since you’ve seen him, even if it wasn’t at holidays?”
“Same.” She let out a sigh when I gasped at this information. “I call once a month, he talks to me, but otherwise, he hasn’t come to see me and his father since…” She coughed. “Well, since twelve years ago.”
“You mean since a year after his wife and child died?”
Now it was her who drew in a breath, shock evident. “How do you know about that? Brad doesn’t talk to anyone about what happened.”
“When was the last time you spoke to him?” I asked, evading her question even as a thrill shot through me at knowing Bradley had opened up to me, even if it had happened because of my nagging.
“Over a month ago. I would’ve called the other day, but he doesn’t like when I do that.” Her voice quivered and I frowned. “He hates that I worry about him.”
In that moment, I wondered if Bradley knew how much his mother was still affected by the loss of not only her daughter-in-law and grandson, but closeness with her son as well. If I could pick up on it, surely he would’ve, but I couldn’t be sure.
Deciding that he was already going to find out I’d spoken to his mother, I just decided to go all in.
“What is your name?”
“Laurel,” she supplied with a laugh. “And you? You still haven’t told me what you’re doing answering my son’s phone.”
“Well, Laurel,” I started, taking a deep breath and then letting it out slowly. “I’m Lucy…and I’m your son’s wife.”
Silence.
If she made a noise, I didn’t hear it. Yet I waited, knowing that she was, without a doubt, completely shocked. It lasted for several minutes.
Finally, she spoke, her words thick with tears. “When?”
“A little over two months now.” I paused, but she said nothing so I told her what I’m sure she wanted to know. “We met over two years ago — I worked for him — and then he proposed out of nowhere. I moved here with my daughter after we got married and I found out about his previous marriage on the anniversary…”
Of their deaths was the rest of the sentence, but I couldn’t get the words out.
“I’m surprised he told you at all, married or not. Do…?” She cleared her throat. “Do you love him?”
My answer was quick and succinct. “Wouldn’t have married him if I didn’t.”
Her laugh was big that time, but I wasn’t sure what was so funny.
“And he didn’t want to tell me,” I said. “He came home that night from being out having drinks and tried to make me leave him alone, but I refused to do that until he told me what was wrong.”
She let out a sigh then. “Ah, Lucy. It’s too bad he’d refuse to come here. I’d love to meet you. Any woman who can get my son to open up even just a little is worth knowing.”
“I think he just wanted me to shut up.”
“No doubt,” she rejoined with a chuckle. “You said you have a daughter?”
“Yes. Annalina. She is thirteen.”
“Ah. What a lovely name.” I had no doubt that she was thinking about how her grandson would be fifteen now. I knew I would have thought the same thing. “And you? How old are you?”
Not really wanting to answer her question, what with the age difference and not knowing how she’d take it at this point, I said something I shouldn’t have.
“What if I could convince Bradley to come for Thanksgiving?”
“Really?” I heard her doubt. “How would you do that?”
“Tell him I’m going to meet you whether he comes with me or not.”
“I’m not sure that’ll work. He’s stubborn, as I’m sure you know.”
“So am I.”
“I can tell.” She paused for a moment. “Well, let me give you my address. The worse that can happen is that you don’t show up either.”
“Oh, I’ll be there,” I promised as I picked up a pen from the desk top. “Go ahead with the address.”
She rattled it off and when she was done, I smiled.
“I look forward to meeting you, Laurel. And your husband…what’s his name?”
“Robert.”
“Got it.” Grinning, I stood up. “I should go now…”
“Sure. And dear…let me know if you are going to make it or not, all right?”
“Absolutely. Until then.”
“Right. It was nice talking to you Lucy.”
“You, too.”
I hung up and turned to walk the phone back over to the charger, only to freeze at the sight of Bradley standing in the doorway with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face.
Uh oh.
~*~
He didn’t move as I walked over and put the phone away.
Taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly before turning to face him. Then I smiled, clasping my hands in front of me so I wouldn’t fidget.
“When did you get home?”
Other than lifting a brow, he didn’t budge from his position at the door, effectively blocking any exit I thought to make.
And I did want to leave the room. I knew I’d been busted and I’m sure he heard enough of the conversation to know what I was up to.
“Please,” he said, his face giving away no hint of emotion. “Please tell me that you were not just telling my mother that you’d persuade me to come home for the holidays?”
Yep, definitely heard what I’d said.
I swallowed. “You know that’s exactly what I was doing.”
At that, he dropped his arms and stood up straight, then walked toward me. The slow, languid pace of his advance was deceptive, his face not giving away any of his thoughts in that moment when I needed a glimpse the most.
Even though I knew I shouldn’t have done told his mother such a thing, I really enjoyed the sight of him as he came my way. Wearing his black dress pants, powder blue button-up shirt, and black tie, he looked good enough to eat. He appeared calm and collected, yet I knew he wasn’t.
I was in trouble.
But I wasn’t backing down. I had every intention of meeting his parents.
When he stopped in front of me, I had to tilt my head back a bit to look into his face. He didn’t touch me, his eyes searing into mine.
“I am not going.”
The words were soft, even dangerous. I never really thought about how words could be dangerous, but in that moment, his were. Maybe it was the glint in his eyes, or the look on his face of absolute displeasure at my promise to his mother.
Either way, if he thought I’d back down, he was mistaken.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I pursed my lips, my eyes never leaving his. I challenged him without saying a word.
His lips quirked at my silence. Before I knew what was happening, his arms were around me, pulling my body flush against his. “You’re stubborn,” he murmured as my arms unfolded. I put my palms flat against his chest in reaction. “But you should know by now that I will win.”
With those words, I pushed against him, scowling. “You didn’t even tell her you got married!”
He shrugged. “I hadn’t gotten around to it.”
“You don’t get around to a lot of things, apparently.” I pushed again and his arms loosened, but not enough for me to be freed. His frown deepened as I continued. “Twelve years? You haven’t seen your parents in that long! What if they died? What if—“
“Wow,” he said, interrupting my rant with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You two were on the phone a bit longer than I thought when I discovered you on my private line.”
“I heard a phone ringing. I found it and answered. You had to’ve known that would happen.”
He let me go then, stepping back, the scowl on his face returned. “I don’t want you talking to my mother. And we’re not going there on Thanksgiving,” he declared.
I shrugged. “Fine. If you don’t want to go, I can’t make you. I’m going though.”
“What?”
Now it was my turn to give him a smile that wasn’t quite a genuine one either. “That’s right. I told her I’d come whether you did or not. And you can’t stop me.” I felt like a teenager saying that, but almost smiled for real when he stiffened. “If she told me a few things on the phone, can you imagine what she’d say in person without you around?”
I knew how much pain he was in from what happened which was exactly why I couldn’t watch him do this to himself.
I may not have gotten along with my mother all the time, but I loved her. And no matter the tragedy that came into my life, I’d never stop seeing her. He wouldn’t want to hear this though; I knew the way to get him to go was to make it clear I’d go without him, whether he liked it or not.
“Why?” I responded to his question a confused look, and he shoved a hand through his hair as he elaborated. “Why are you so insistent about this? Why can’t you just not talk to her, not plan to go see her behind my back?”
“It wasn’t behind your back,” I assured him, smiling. “I had every intention of telling you. After all, I didn’t expect your mother to call a line I didn’t know about, let alone have her vent to me without even knowing I was your wife first.”
“I’ve not seen them in twelve years. What makes you think I’d go now just because you’re curious?”
I ignored his question and asked one of my own. “How old are your parents?”
“I’m forty-five. So how old do you think they are?”
I hated when he answered a question with a question. Something he seemed to do a lot of, enjoying every moment of it I’m sure.
I blatantly pushed aside the thought that I was doing the same thing to him.
After all, the difference was that I didn’t always do it, whereas as it seemed like it had become his defense mechanism. And right then, I didn’t want to play games. He couldn’t keep me locked out of everything.
I wanted him to realize that he needed to see his parents before it ended up being too late.
“Old enough that you’d regret not seeing them before they die.”
If I hadn’t been with him for the past two years, I would’ve missed the near imperceptible wince before he masked it. When he said nothing, I went in for the kill, knowing it may blow up in my face.
“They love you,” I said, the words coming out quiet, yet forceful. “I don’t know how your father feels, but your mother is definitely still affected by their deaths, too.”
His flinch that time was unmistakable. He turned and stalked toward the door, both hands going up to shove their way through his hair. When he paused by the door, I swear I heard him growl. And as he whirled around to face me, I froze at the look of terror on his face.
“This isn’t any of your business, Lucy.” The words were so soft I would’ve missed them had I not been looking at him. “Stay out of it.”
I lifted my chin, shaking my head a little, my mind made up. “No. You made it my business when you married me.”
His face clouded over, but didn’t say anything else. He turned and walked out of the room, his anger quite visible.
Seconds later, I jumped at the sound of the front door slamming.
I knew he’d end up coming with me.
So, I won.
At what cost? Well, that remained to be seen.
Something told me the cost might be higher than I was willing to pay.