Authors: Courtney Lane
He pulled into a parking space in the garage and got out of the car.
I followed, stumbling in my steps to meet him at the trunk of the car as he removed the luggage, waiting for him to answer my question.
He pulled the key to the car off the ring and reached under the underside of the car, leaving the keys there. Standing tall, he flexed his shoulders and faced me. “I need you to do one thing for me.”
“You…want
me
to do something for
you
? After all you’ve done to me?”
“I never broke my promises. You wanted to see your sister, and I took you there.” He leaned against me, holding me, rekindling the sensation burning underneath my skin every time his hands were on me, or his eyes held me. His gaze hit my stomach for a moment, making me self-conscious enough to close my sweater. “I’m your family, and if you accept the inevitable, I’ll give you the family you deserve.”
He clasped the back of my head, pulling me in deeper. “If I were a different man, I think I would’ve been debilitated by how much I loved you.”
I’d never experienced a pain buried so deep. No matter how much I rubbed, extracted, or tried to cure it, it would never feel all right again. Everything had changed.
“The fucked-up thing?” I asked, my voice soft as a whisper. “If you were a different man, I wouldn’t have loved you.”
-21-
W
HO
H
E
I
S
We touched down in Hartford, Connecticut, and the hours didn’t cure what was sick. A medley of emotions were so strong I couldn’t ignore them anymore. In spite of all the things Catch had done to me, I was at his side, wanting him to comfort me like he had before, and tell me it would all work out in the end.
He pulled up and parked alongside the curb in front of a colonial with several other similar-looking classic colonials.
His eyes were elsewhere, staring out the windshield down the road.
The ring he gave me caught the light from the sun, peeking down onto the street. “Do you want me to take this off?”
“Keep it on.” He took a deep breath as though he was preparing to go on stage for an epic performance and fixed a pair of sunglasses on his face.
Halfway to the doorstep, while I was lost in wonder at the Christmas lights decorating the house and the nativity scene nestled in the snow not too far from the doorway, he turned to me. “Grady.”
I looked at Catch with question. Realizing he couldn’t see my eyes through my sunglasses, I opened my mouth to clarify. “What?”
Sliding his hand down my arm, he linked his fingers with mine. “You should know my name from me, and not them.”
“Oh,” I said, my voice light as air as I tried to digest it. He said there was power in a name, and I couldn’t agree with him more. The name Catch held a terrifying amount of power. I didn’t need to know the man underneath it who played pretend for the world. “Them?”
“The two people responsible for bringing me into the world.”
I snapped my head back at the house in complete wonder. It was an average upper to upper-middle-class neighborhood, complete with lush green lawns, dense trees, neighbors who waved, and kids who played hockey in the streets. Men and women bundled up in winter coats walked along the plowed sidewalk with their dogs without a care.
What was behind the door to the home had to give clues to the man beside me. I cared, despite wishing I didn’t. Every time I tried to stow away the feelings I had for him with memories of the time I spent with him, they wouldn’t stay sewn up inside me. My stitches were easily torn apart with one look or one touch, leaving me bleeding all over again.
The door opened to reveal Mr. And Mrs. Perfect, a couple with great genetics.
Mrs. Colson wore a white floral dress and kitten heels. Her thick, dark hair was perfectly curled. Her makeup looked professionally done. She seemed poised for the best dressed at the upper echelon society’s tea party.
Mr. Colson, a spitting image of Catch many years from now, was dressed in a starched black plaid shirt and slacks. Their genuine smiles reached their eyes as they embraced Catch with little cackles of joy. In the way he held his parents, I could see it. The man was good at pretending—he really didn’t feel much of anything for the people who gave him life.
They turned to me with sunny smiles and embraced me like we were old friends.
“Simone,” they said in perfect unison, each of them taking one of my hands, pulling me inside. His mother hugged me again, squeezing me tightly. “I’m so happy to meet you, Simone.” She rocked while hugging me and laughed.
Not used to such a warm greeting, it took me a minute to put my arms around her. As she withdrew, she held up my left hand.
“Grady has told me so much about you,” she beamed, shooting a covert wink at Catch.
I had no idea when or how he found the time to tell his parents about me.
“Usually we have to twist his arm to see the women he’s dating,” his father muttered, his thick Italian accent bleeding into his words, calling for his wife to playfully nudge him. “Not with you. I suppose it’s because none of the women he brought here had that on their finger.” Mr. Colson’s eyes widened at the ring on my finger. “That is
some
ring. How much did it set you back?”
I’d never stepped foot in a place with such normal purity. I felt disgustingly dirty and out of place. Catch obviously did as well; if he were any more rigid, he’d be a statue made of titanium.
“Don’t scare her away, Father,” the mother said to him.
“I’m just joshing, Mother,” said the father.
“Oh he spent a pretty penny on this one.” She leaned forward, allowing the sun to catch the ring and send a prism of colors onto the vaulted ceiling of the foyer. “The ring is gorgeous.”
“That’s probably because I let her pick the ring,” Catch said with a tame grin only I seemed to know was fake.
“Smart man,” Mrs. Colson said, speaking out the corner of her mouth toward her son. “You get those smarts from your mother, of course.” Her blue eyes scanned over me. “I’m Juliette, but you can call me Juli for short and you can call my husband The Gun.” She cupped her hand partially over her mouth and said, “It’s his middle name, Gunner, but I like to josh him.”
“Only she is allowed to call me that.” Mr. Colson playfully wagged a finger at me. “You, young lady, can call me Gio.”
“Nice to meet you both,” I said, trying to smile; I couldn’t.
Juli pulled me into the kitchen, chattering about the dish she had cooked and needed help with. She waited until Gio and Catch disappeared out the front door to get our luggage.
She turned, pressing her back to the wall and covered her face. I would never have known she was crying until her chest began to heave and shake.
I immediately embraced her.
“Thank you,” she said, collecting herself and grabbing my hands for a moment. “We prayed on it and promised we would stay strong for Grady. I haven’t seen him since Brenley passed away about a year ago. A parent should never have to bury their own child.” With a nod to assure me she was better, she began to flit around a large kitchen that could’ve been any serious cook’s dream.
“Forgive me, Lord, I know I’m not supposed to speak ill of the dead.” Her eyes shot up to the ceiling. “But I knew it. I knew it would happen when he married that girl because she became pregnant. She grew up around the corner from Grady, but everyone knew that house was full of sin. Her father wasn’t a nice man. I lost count of the times the police were called because he came home drunk and beat his wife. The sweet woman never left him.
“Jenna had her baby while high on prescription drugs. She and Grady never got along. When he filed for divorce, she sold her parents a lie that got our grandchild taken out of Grady’s hands and provoked a custody battle.
“We thought the judge would take our precious grandchild away from us. That woman made horrible claims; she said Grady was a sociopath who did horrible things to her. A boldfaced lie. You know it as well as I do.” She glanced at my ring. “Grady is a good man, always has been. He would break his back to carry a friend if he had to. I couldn’t have asked for a more incredible son. He was our miracle baby and outstanding at everything thrown at him. He deserved better than
her
.
“Brenley was kidnapped in the middle of the court battle for custody. To this day, I know Jenna had something to do with it. She told Grady if he didn’t want her, he couldn’t have his child either. Evil. Just evil.”
I slid off the stool, unable to look at her. “Do you mind if I freshen up?”
“Where are my manners? You sure can.” She took a quick peek in the magnet mirror on the refrigerator, and moved with the grace of a queen toward the front of the home.
The house was all yellow painted walls here, with bright floral borders, or bright blue paint there with a wallpapered accent wall.
At the fifth door down in an upstairs hall she opened the bedroom door. “This was Grady’s old room. We redid it when he moved out after college because it…didn’t fit the house.” She pointed to the door beside a window at the north wall. “Bathroom is right over there.” Clutching my arm, she stroked it like a mother would a child. “I hope you feel better. I’ll send Grady up to check on you.”
“Please don’t,” I blurted out, sending alarm to her face. I fought back the desire to shake her and tell her her son was a psychopath. If she and I were standing on the same island when it came to Catch, she would’ve said what I knew; the heart is louder than the head.
“It was a long trip,” I told her, unsure if she knew I was pregnant. “I need some time alone.”
She sat on the bed and folded her legs, indicating I had said the wrong thing. “Did you and Grady get into an argument? Oh, honey, he’s probably not feeling like himself. I think he’ll feel like himself again once you two start a family.”
I immediately felt awful and I was sure it showed on my face. “I don’t mean to sound like a cold hearted bi—”
Her eyebrows lifted and a curled lip indicated she didn’t approve.
“Sorry,” I offered. “It’s complicated.” I glanced at the door. “Thank you for being so nice to me. Think I’m jet-lagged.”
“Oh, honey, that’s all you had to say.” With a nod, she ejected off the bed. “Grady told us that you two flew in from the Caribbean—the romantic getaway that resulted in that beautiful diamond on your finger. I’m sure you two were busy. Get some rest before dinner.” With a grim smile and a firm tug of my hand, she was gone.
I closed the bedroom door and turned against it. Dozens of pictures on the far wall greeted me. Pictures of Grady and his family. Grady with his basketball team. Grady with his football team. Grady receiving awards in high school. Grady was valedictorian in high school. Grady graduated summa cum laude with a dual major in finance and computer science from a school that produced presidents.
There were pictures of huge gatherings with whom I assumed to be his “friends.” Pictures of outings at places where suburban kids with means went with their friends. And after college, the pictures stopped. Photographs of his ex-wife and daughter were missing.
I walked into the bathroom. The large windows poured the sun into the room. I retraced my steps and looked for a closet, stowing myself away inside the dark walk-in space lined with boxes instead of clothes.
For the first time, I was as alone as I could ever be. My sister. Michael. Both horrible people but the only ones I could call upon as my family. And the ones I could call on I barely saw; Jasper and my mother.
The scene downstairs and the pictures on the wall indicated Catch had been pretending all his life to be something he wasn’t—to feel things he didn’t. He would always be the most convincing liar I’d ever met.
“Simone,” Catch’s voice reverberated from the other side of the door. His tone was sweeter than he normally would’ve used on me. “If you make me state a pun, I’ll break the door down.”
I opened the door to the closet and sat clear on the other side.
He flicked on the switch, illuminating the dark space.
“The bathroom had too much light,” I explained to answer the question held in his gaze.
“You’ve been through a whirlwind with the travel and uncovering the truth about the people who surrounded you. You were born to the wrong family.” He squatted down in front of me, folding his hands across his open legs. “How are you? Answer me truthfully.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
His forehead contracted, his blue eyes became mere slits between his dense dark eyelashes.
“I’m far from anything near the vicinity of okay,” I offered, my voice soft and quiet.
“It’s the first time I’ve asked and received a real answer. You are better than okay, sweetheart.” He reached up and stroked a stray piece of hair, a gentle gesture as though nothing equivalent to the implosion of my life—several times over—had happened.