Secrets and Lace: A Dark Romance Thriller (Fatal Hearts Series Book 1) (6 page)

I shook her tiny hand without meeting her eye. “Of course, Jenna. Yes, I remember you.” Memories flooded back. Jenna had been one of those girls who didn't give a damn what anyone thought. She hadn’t cared about clothes or makeup and spent pretty much every lunch break in the school library. We had been so different. I’d been a complete people pleaser, had ached to belong, to be seen. ”How have you been? Nice to see you again,” I lied, plastering a smile on my face.

“Same here. It's been years. You never came back after leaving for college. I heard you even changed your name. I can understand why, though. In your position, I’d probably have done the same.”

Her words stabbed me in the stomach.

“Yes, it’s Chloe Parker now. I've been traveling a lot.” I would leave it at that. I didn't owe her, or anybody, an explanation. I was here for one reason, and then I'd be gone. This time they'd never see me again. “I'm not in town for long. Do you have a room for the next three nights? A suite, preferably.” I handed her my credit card.

“Wow, fancy.” Jenna smiled and glanced at her computer screen. “Living the high life, are we?”

Was that envy I heard in her voice? Or was it my imagination?

I decided not to respond to the comment. I had nothing to apologize for. I enjoyed staying at expensive hotels, and I could afford it. While I was here in Misty Cove, I'd stay in a suite and not feel guilty about it. High school was a long time ago. 

“Yes, our suite is available. Here's your card, and here's information you might need.” She handed me a keycard and a small folder. “Your room is on the fourth floor. Breakfast is between 8 and 11 a.m. Lunch starts at 12:30. If you need anything, call down.”

I appreciated her professionalism. “Thank you so much.” I picked up my carryall bag and headed for the elevators. I looked forward to climbing into bed. I needed to tank energy for the next few days.

 When the elevator doors opened, Jenna called out to me by my old name. I turned back, wondering if I had forgotten something.

She leaned forward across the counter as though wanting to whisper something to me. “People around here haven’t forgotten that last article you wrote for the school paper, and, you know... what happened after. They still talk about it. Just be prepared.”

Sweat beaded at my temples. The next few days were going to be harder than I’d thought.

 

 

 

Chapter Eleven

My phone was ringing when I got out of the shower.

Kirsten was breathless on the other end. “Are you screening my calls?” she asked, but I could tell from her tone of voice that she was joking.

“Now, why would I do that?” I inspected my nails. They were in need of a fresh coat of my favorite opaque blush polish. “What are you doing, anyway? You're breathing so hard it's almost hard to hear what you're saying.” 

“I'm on the treadmill. I need to look my best at your wedding. The whole country will be watching.”

“I don't think you need to lose weight. You have an awesome figure.”

“I agree.” She laughed, and then her breathing slowed down. She must have stopped exercising. “I’m just making sure it stays that way. So, where the hell are you?” 

What would it hurt to tell her? Even if she knew where I was, it would be impossible for her to know my reasons for being here. “You won't believe where I am.” I unraveled the towel on my head and the warm, damp ropes of my hair hit my naked back. “I'm in my hometown.”

“Wow, that's a surprise. You never said you were going. You went to see your mom? What made you change your mind about seeing her again after all these years?”

“I came here to take care of something else. But now that I'm here, I'm kind of thinking it would be weird if I don't drop by to see her, don't you think?”

“Maybe she's not the same person she used to be. Thirteen years is a long time to stay the same. But it must be hard for you to be back there.”

“Yes, it is.” It would be damn hard to face my mom again. Thinking about her made it hard to breathe. What would we say to each other? Where would we start? How would I be able to look past the pain? “Kirsten, I'm so sorry, but I have to go. Do you mind if I give you a call later?”

“Sure. Go and do what you have to do. But when will you be back in town?”

“I don't know yet. I'll be here for two more days, probably. Though it could be a little longer.” I had no reason to rush back, especially since I didn't have to be in the office. But I couldn't stay away for too long either. The wedding planners would want me to sign off on a number of things. The wedding would be my main priority once I returned to Boca Raton.

“Well, okay.” Kirsten paused. “I had wanted it to be a surprise, but since you don't know when you'll be back, I guess I have no choice.” She sighed. “I’ve organized a bachelorette party for you for Wednesday.”

“You did? You’re such a sweetheart. Thank you so much.” I had been so preoccupied that I had not even thought about a bachelorette party. 

“What else are maids of honor for?”

“In that case, I'll try to make it home by then.” Today was only Sunday. I’d have enough time to find the answers I needed. After that, I saw no point in staying in a town that was no longer home to me. 

“Is everything ready for the wedding?” Kirsten asked. “Not much time left.”

“Pretty much. Tina called yesterday. She's finalizing the seating charts. She seems to have everything under control.” After Miles proposed, I had considered planning the wedding myself, being involved in every moment leading up to my special day. But I soon realized that wedding planning was lots of work that I didn’t want to do. It was Kirsten who had convinced me that delegating the planning to someone else wouldn't make the day any less special. And besides, there was one thing I would not be able to delegate: the moment at the altar with Miles when we exchanged our vows.

Kirsten had even been the one who suggested Silk & Petals. A client of hers had apparently used them before.

“That's great. If there's anything you'd like me to take care of while you're out of town, let me know.”

“Thanks, Kirsten. I'll do that. Talk to you soon.”

I ended the call and spent a long time getting dressed, worrying about seeing my mom again. It would be best to visit her first, to get it out of the way before getting to what I came to Misty Cove for. I'd keep it short. I had no interest in rehashing the past, talking about what had driven us apart.

Before I left the room, I gave Miles a call, hoping he would help calm my nerves. He was in church, but he stepped out to talk to me. Although he was surprised that I’d be seeing my Mom, he didn’t try to talk me out of it.

Miles was Catholic, so as long as he wasn’t traveling, he never missed Sunday mass. It was something he carried with him from childhood. His late mom always took him with her. I did find it a bit painful that it was a part of his life he didn't seem to want to share with me. I wasn’t Catholic, but I believed there was only one God, served in various ways. 

At the start of our relationship, I did accompany him once or twice, and while he had not objected, he did give off the vibe that he wasn’t so comfortable with me around. It hurt a bit, but I took a step back. He had the right to spend some time alone, to recharge. At the end of the day, he came home to me. Nothing else mattered.

I walked out the door of the hotel feeling confident, telling myself I would be able to handle whatever came my way. My future with Miles was secure. All I had to do was iron out the kinks that had recently shown up, and then I'd be able to start a new life with the man I loved.

 

Chapter Twelve

 

 

Misty Cove had barely changed. Before going to my childhood home, I drove through the streets for a few minutes, taking a look around, curious to see what had stayed frozen in time. 

Turns out, almost everything. The Sunset Cinema I had gone to as a child had been replaced by a bed-and-breakfast, the Candy Cane sweet shop was now an ice parlor, and the Sneak and Peek video store had a “for sale” sign across its front door. Everything else was unchanged. It was almost like I’d gone back in time. Even the sounds and smells were the same.

The ocean sounded different here. It was the one thing I missed; it had soothed me so much during hard times. I had spent endless hours on the beach, collecting shells or gazing out at the ocean, wishing the waves could wash me away from my life. In Boca Raton, my life was so hectic that I often forgot to stop and listen to the ocean, and even when I did, it lacked the soothing effect I had experienced in childhood. 

Mixing with the sound and smell of the ocean, the aroma of freshly baked bread and spices snuck through the open window of my car. 

It was amazing how some things could change so much, while others stayed the same. Had Misty Cove awaited my return, waited for me to give it a second chance? I heard it calling out to me, trying to lure me out of the car, to walk its streets and gaze through its shop windows like I used to. 

It felt like only yesterday when I'd last gazed through the floor-length windows of Mary Jane, a clothing store for teens, visualizing the clothes on my own body, showing them off at school. Sometimes I
did
gather up the courage to go inside. I tried on the clothes to see how they felt on my skin, dreamt that one day I'd be able to buy all the beautiful things I wanted.

My parents had bought me what I had needed, nothing more. My father was a struggling car salesman for most of his life, and Mom had been a housewife. After my father died, Mom got a job at a local bakery that didn't pay much. After bills were paid and the necessities bought, there’d been hardly enough money left over for extras. 

I was still thinking back when I pulled the car onto Clover Avenue. It had remained the same as well. Rows of jacaranda trees still lined the street, and Andy's Grocery was still there, its bright yellow paint peeling. I watched as early grocery shoppers walked in and out, carrying bags, pushing carts, or holding tight to toddlers' hands—carrying out their morning tasks.

The Handy Car Wash was still at the end of the street, and as usual, the place was deserted. Most car owners preferred to wash their cars themselves to save money. I had always wondered how they had managed to stay in business with only a handful of customers. Rumor around town was that Jake Simpson, the owner, was in the business of money laundering, and the car wash business was a cover. 

I pulled up in front of my childhood home and parked. I climbed out, of the car and for a second I stood there, the sunlight spilling onto my head and shoulders. Today was such a nice day, so promising after the storm that had raged last night. I wore a baby blue chiffon print dress with an open back and a pair of beaded sandals. The air was clean and fresh, the heat of the sun warm against my back.

I tipped my head back so I was gazing at the upstairs bedrooms, locating the one that had been mine, nestled between my parents’ bedroom and the guest room. 

The curtains were different. The purple ones I remembered from my childhood were gone and replaced with boring beige ones. My stomach churned. I had moved on and so much time had passed. What if Mom had moved out? Maybe the house belonged to someone else now, a new family that would be able to fill it with laughter. 

The living room curtain fluttered. Someone was peering out, but they didn't want to be seen. I moved forward and opened the metal gate. As I walked down the stone path, I clenched my fists tight, one of my hands holding the car keys and the other my phone. My stomach roiled.

I made it to the front door and took a deep breath. 

I pressed a finger on the black doorbell, forcing myself to remain calm. 

When the door opened, a stranger stood before me.

 

Chapter Thirteen

 

 

Mom had not moved out, but she was far from the woman I used to know. The sunken eyes, pale skin, and thin hair were nothing like what I remembered of the woman who had given birth to me, the woman I had loved until she stopped loving me back. Her hair had always been so beautiful, lustrous and thick, and I had envied her for it. I had dull hair growing up, but now, with a little help from expensive hair products and frequent visits to my hairdresser, it was as beautiful as Mom's had been at the time, if not more. 

We stood there staring at each other—familiar strangers. Neither of us knew what to say or do. My heart shrank as I reached deeper into her eyes. Instinct urged me to turn around and leave. Nothing left for me here. I had done what I'd planned. I'd seen her. Now I could leave, right? There was only one problem: I couldn't move or speak, or even breathe.

“Kelly.” She gripped the doorframe. “You’re home.” Her voice was low, and it seemed the words were hard for her to speak. Before I could respond, she reached out and wrapped her thin arms around my neck, sobbing into my shoulder.

***

Mom didn't speak again for a long time. Neither did I. I was in complete shock over what had just happened. 

I had not even planned on entering the house; I’d thought I would say hello to her and be on my way. I had not expected her to invite me in. But here I was, following her inside.

What had happened to her? Why was she suddenly being nice to me? Why did she look so withered? 

She waved a hand at the faded, flowery couches I remembered and I took a seat, crossing my legs. 

The TV was the same, the one I had been so excited to help my father pick out at the age of eight. I had never imagined it would end up being a major part of my life, the ultimate distraction from my home life. TV and lots of books. I eyed the film of dust covering the screen and looked away. Dust was everywhere else I looked, however; it covered the old radio, coated the dead leaves of the houseplant on the windowsill, and even my Mom's beloved collection of ceramic figurines. 

Although I didn't mind a little dirt here and there, Mom always had. She had been obsessed with cleanliness it drove me crazy. She had cleaned house all the time—in the mornings, afternoons, and even after I went to bed. The sound of the vacuum cleaner was unbearable. That was why I bought the quietest vacuum cleaners money could buy. 

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