Secondhand secrets, p.20
Secondhand Secrets, page 20
“Neither will leaving my girlfriend to cry alone while I party it up out there.” He paused, this time shaking the door handle. “Ally, come out. Please.”
She sagged forward, shoulders rounded while she took a minute to catch her breath. To summon the courage to face him.
Could she face him?
She had to. He deserved better than her running and hiding.
So, she planted her feet on the ground and stood. Though her balance wobbled and her hands shook, she turned the door handle, releasing the latch.
All too soon, Chip’s heart wrenching hazel stare caught her, and she wanted to stumble away. Back into her stall. Back to hiding. Janice retreated from behind his left shoulder, her downturned gaze a sign she sought to give them space.
Chip’s focus shifted all over her, from her face—with no doubt puffy, red eyes and smeared makeup—down to her crumpled dress with distinguishable marks of spilled champagne and tears.
Though her throat turned raw, she choked out a pitiful, “I’m sorry.”
She couldn’t tell if she apologized for fleeing to the bathrooms, for being somewhat tipsy, or for looking a complete mess.
So she offered a weak explanation to patch over the pain she’d caused and would still cause in due time, her next words paired with a deceptive shrug.
“I’m not much fun tonight.” Her lip trembled, but she managed to hold back any more tears and add, “Go back to the party, okay?”
His gaze moved about her face before he grabbed her hands and pulled her into him, his forehead finding hers.
“You’re overwhelmed.” His voice was low and intimate enough that only she could hear. “And we’re leaving this party, right now. Together.”
“Chip.” Her voice shook, husky and hollow. She was doing it again. Hurting his chances, when he really needed to stick around and mingle some more. “I’ll be fine. Just go back and make more friends”
His brow pulled lower with an expression that said she was absurd to think he’d ditch her for people he barely knew. Maybe he was right. Maybe his loyalty was just another reason she needed to let him go.
He pressed a firm kiss to her forehead, as though he saw her pulling away and refused to let her go. “I’ve talked to everyone I need to talk to. We’re leaving.”
He stepped back and caught her elbow, nodding a silent thanks to Janice before guiding Ally out the bathroom door.
The pounding of loud music, the rush of unfamiliar faces, and the numerous glances up and down of people noticing her disheveled state. As much as she loved Chip, she’d made him look bad.
And another thing, I love him too much.
Even if he didn’t feel embarrassed, his inability to save himself from her only made things worse.
He deserved so much more than she could give.
He deserved someone more intellectual and worldly. Someone with the stamina to counter the moments when his self-sacrificing failed him.
Perhaps a kinder version of Angeline.
Definitely not some Harlow blow-in named Ally Egan.
Thirty-Two
Chip peered across the cab’s backseat to Ally, now turned to her window to conceal the doubt he’d already witnessed dragging at her face. And even then, her frazzled inner state flowed through the stiffness in her drawn shoulders and her arms wrapped tight around her waist.
The outside streetlights flickered blue and gold on her skin, skin that puffed under her eyes while stray makeup ran down her cheeks. She was a mess, but none of that had anything to do with how she looked.
He’d asked too much.
Bringing her to Boston had been a mistake. His fault lay in telling her what he’d give up to have her in his life. Then again, all those weeks ago, she’d voiced a wish for love and escape. And yet, he’d never seen anyone so bereft at getting what they wanted.
A frown pulled at his brow, and he reached out to tug her hand into his. Her gaze momentarily hit his before she squeezed her eyes shut in a pained grimace, as though his touch hurt her more than her solo window gazing did.
What a fragile and rare moment. Rare because Ally Egan seemed to want silence. Fragile because, well, he could feel her pulling away and didn’t know exactly why.
He worked through the possibilities. That she was less concerned about change, more restless about what she’d seen so far. That she outright hated Boston. Or worse, she figured he was selfish to ask her to stay when she was so new to this wider world.
Not much had ever confused him, but now he couldn’t get a single thought of his in order.
Not so worldly or smart after all, huh?
The cab pulled up to his dad’s house, a house that now, more than ever, didn’t feel like home. His connection with his dad yet another relationship not working.
And even as he paid the driver, Ally pushed her door open, her steps too quick to take her up the stairs to the townhouse’s large and glossy burgundy door. But without a key, she had to wait for him.
He rushed after her, her hands still around her waist in a seeming quest for self-comfort, when all he wanted was to be the one giving her that.
A push of the front door revealed little more than darkness inside, Kelly already asleep and his dad working late, though a muted blue light filled the stairwell.
Ally’s rigid steps led the way, and he lifted a hand to touch her shoulder, only for second thoughts to pull him short. Despite his desire to have her speak, he got the distinct feeling there wasn’t much to say. That or anything said would not be productive.
Not now. Not tonight.
Not when emotions ran so high.
He’d gleaned a little on what had happened at the party from Janice. That someone had spoken unkindly to Ally. That she’d run away to the bathroom ladened with drinks.
But he’d witnessed the hurtful comments directed at her from his dad too. Witnessed her wounded expression and confidence crumble in the wake.
Why do they care so much about what she does?
Why does she?
She paused at the stair’s landing and merely stared at the white-painted door belonging to his bedroom. A bedroom they’d shared up until now.
But she doesn’t what to share tonight.
That alarming thought had him pausing mid-stride, his fingers curling into the banister.
Though he wanted to move on from the landing, he battled the ache of admitting his dreams of loving this woman quickly unraveled.
“Don’t run.” His plea cut sharp against the silence. “Please.”
That last word came as a rough whisper that had her face turning to him in a pale and frozen expression. He abandoned all pride and strode toward her, only for her to jolt away again.
Inspecting her some more, he shook his head and once again drew nothing but blanks. “What did I do?”
She blinked at his question, and the tension over her face slowly collapsed, her chin the next to move on a small tremble. “You were too perfect.”
Her husky delivery, the way her glossy focus stayed on him, her cheeks hollow and the skin around her eyes still red. What should have been a compliment, landed as a heavy blow square in his gut, his entire life refocused as one monumental failure.
He’d been taught to maintain an air of perfection, to do and be his utmost best. But here he stood, that perfection turned against him.
The reason the woman he loved would not love him back.
And still, he didn’t understand.
She shifted toward him, and the tremble of her lip increased until the whole dam broke, and tears rushed down her cheeks, harder than ever. Even as she cried, she stepped forward until she held her palms to his face. “You were too perfect, Chip.”
The pain low in his ribcage morphed into a shuddering sickness. One he sought to quell with something far more tangible. Someone who could put things right. Her.
So he pulled her in, and as if they drew to the same conclusion, her lips simultaneously crashed into his.
If a kiss could make everything right, then this one would.
She raised against him, and he picked her up, following the rush to have her in his bedroom. Though this wasn’t how he’d expected the night to end, his heart thundered a hopeful beat, her muffled moans lingering long after they collapsed to the bed.
She pulled at his shirt, and he slid her underwear free from beneath her dress, her nails digging into his back as he found relief in burying himself deep within her again.
Emotional and confused. With each desperate thrust, he sought to reassure her. To demand she stay and allow him to overshadow any doubts.
She was his. All his.
And he would not let her go.
Maintaining this relationship wouldn’t be easy. At least, not at first. But they were made to be together and would be each other’s strength. They would get through this. They would be okay.
Hours later, Ally awoke to the early dawn’s pale light slipping through the blue-gray curtains, the bisque ceiling illuminated at the top. The soothing weight of Chip’s arm draped over her from behind, pressing her bare waist while she closed her eyes and drew a slow breath, savoring the feel. Not just his touch, but the soft lap of his sleep-laden breath on her neck, his warmth and support.
No matter how long she stayed here, the moment would pass too quickly, so she forced herself to slip from his hold and collect last night’s discarded dress, now a puddle of blue silk on the floor.
She ferried the dress to her suitcase tucked inside a closet, then pulled out one of her signature floral sundresses to wear now. Next, she went to the ensuite, her heart racing as she brushed her hair and teeth before gathering her few belongings and taking those also to her suitcase.
Not wanting to wake Chip, she took her time snapping the two locks shut, continuing to move quietly and quickly on her short walk to the bedroom door. Only then did she stop and glance at him one last time and only for a second—where he slept with the soft lines of his back to her, his arm outstretched, as though she still lay within his hold.
The heat behind her eyes forced her to turn away. She didn’t want to cry. Didn’t want him to wake and stop this. Even without all that, her journey down the stairs wasn’t easy. Not with her heavy suitcase reluctant to descend each damn step. Not with each step taking her farther away from everything she’d ever wanted.
But everything I’ve ever wanted isn’t for me.
It took maturity to admit that. And she’d wanted maturity too.
She followed the light breaking from the windows bracketing the front door up ahead, a beacon to her future, whatever that would be. The hour’s devastating stillness only added to the roiling in her tummy, as though even this city slept through her escape.
“So, you’re leaving.”
She startled at William Overton’s weighty statement.
If the city slept, he certainly didn’t!
Chip’s dad sat to her right, within the living room’s archway and on one of two brown leather armchairs. He nursed a round-bottomed glass of high-priced whiskey, something she’d learned he preferred, as well as his tendency to grip her in his unyielding stare. As he did now, halting her next steps away from the stairs.
Still, she womaned-up and nodded all the same.
He drew a sharp breath, and his expression relaxed some before he moved his glass to a small wooden table beside him. “Whatever you think of me, I only ever wanted my son to do well.”
Still lost for words, she blinked, his words dispersing through her mind like water to dry soil. And again, his stare held while he added, “My job isn’t to be nice to him, Ally. I’m not his friend. I’m his father.”
She thought about where she’d been just hours ago. At the Encode gala. All because of Chip’s success so far. Top grades. Top college degree. Top opportunities. All because his father’s we’re-not-friends approach had succeeded in its own right.
Her lips pressed into a frown, and she dared to step away from the stairs only stopping when she had Bill right before her. “Chip’s not a kid anymore. Maybe it’s time to try being nice to him?”
Chip’s dad gave no reply. He barely acknowledged she’d spoken, save for the slight softening of tension around his eyes. That softening was enough to prove that he had heard her, and enough for her to resume her original plan.
“Just do me a favor”—she turned and grabbed her waiting suitcase and then marched for the front door—“when Chip wakes, tell him I’ve gone for some solo sightseeing and won’t be back for hours.”
Hand poised on the door handle and ready to pull, she glanced over to his dad’s uncharacteristically slack expression. He saw where she went with this, and yet, he hadn’t expected she’d sacrifice what she wanted in order to help Chip succeed.
Just to make sure her plan wouldn’t fail, she added one last instruction. “Don’t tell him I’ve left until after his presentation.”
Thirty-Three
Chip’s morning was an endless list of hurried tasks, complete with a panicked journey downstairs to find Ally, only for his dad to let loose that she’d left to do some early sightseeing so Chip would have space to focus on his presentation.
Though he would have preferred to have her presence, he’d had no time to dwell, his early hours filled with checking presentation notes and slides, then choking down some toast for breakfast while racing out the door.
Encode presentation now over, he pushed through his front door and plonked his leather laptop bag to the nearby ornate upholstered chair, quick to make his way to the kitchen in search of more food. Even if his thoughts did run full speed over each minor detail of this morning’s meeting.
The Encode board would see the other candidates today, then set about critiquing and searching for any reason the code he’d provided wouldn’t work. A lot of money rode on this decision, so he couldn’t blame them. Still, he’d got a feeling from the board members that something wasn’t right this morning, and his nerves wouldn’t settle until he knew the result.
He rubbed the strain at the back of his neck and stepped into the kitchen, the room’s familiar brightness a small relief until he spotted Kelly and his dad staring back at him from their seats at the large, white marble island.
Their faces tight and wary, his dad’s arm wrapped around Kelly’s shoulder in an unusual show of support. They looked as though they’d been waiting in this room a long time.
“What’s happened?” He darted his gaze between the two, his heartbeat thudding loud in his ears.
Kelly peered at his dad again, seeming to seek support before her focus landed on Chip with a pained sort of grimace. “Ally’s gone.”
His world stilled, and he fought to decipher her full meaning, although the twisting sensation in his gut offered instant understanding. “As in, back to Harlow?”
A long silence hung in the air before Kelly’s grimace deepened and she nodded. “We’re sorry, Chip.”
His limbs turned instantly cold and numb, and he looked to his father, expecting to see a happy smirk there since Ally had done exactly as he’d wanted. But his dad’s lips held a firm line, the deepened wrinkles around his mouth denoting a man not at all pleased.
Never the sort to withhold a stare, his dad’s gaze fell to the counter, the action corroborating Kelly’s claim. “She left this morning. She asked me to lie to you about going sightseeing, although I didn’t lie about her not wanting to distract from your opportunity today.”
Despite the angry heat rushing his body, plus his desire to lay into his dad, Chip spun away and raced up the stairs. He needed proof. Needed to see his empty bedroom without the hurried eyes of a man hurtling toward his once-in-a-lifetime chance.
Screw opportunity.
Grief and panic swallowed him, and he swung his bedroom door open and stormed across the cream carpet to his wardrobe, indeed emptier than last night. Her suitcase, missing. The shelves he’d cleared for her, once again bare. He dug his phone out of his pocket. No messages there. No missed calls. She’d left. Just left.
As though she’d never been here to begin with.
The skin over his cheekbones turned impossibly taut, and he ran his hand over his mouth, sifting through his racing thoughts. He wanted to yell. He wanted to hate her. But yelling and hate were a cheap cover for pain. So he’d find something more useful, something to deal with the tidal wave of emotion crushing him now.
Ally rarely left Harlow and would be traveling alone. The phone still sat in his hand, so he’d focus on making sure she was okay.
His stomach churned as he pressed CALL on her number. Her silent exit hinted at not wanting to hear from him, but they’d known each other in ways that ran far deeper than being just lovers. They had history. Had grown up together. He couldn’t end their relationship on silence.
But she didn’t answer.
Spots flashed in his eyes over what that could mean, but he told himself that she was on her flight home already and had simply put her phone on airplane mode. She couldn’t take calls. Not that she wouldn’t take his call.
How did we get to this?
He paced the area beside his bed and refused to answer that question. He’d make another call. His sister. Maybe Sarah would know if Ally had arrived back in town.
Only, he got no answer there, either, so he tried calling Dean next.
“Hey, what’s up?” Dean’s distinct and always-easy baritone didn’t give Chip much hope he knew anything.
“Is Ally there?”
“What?” A few rustling sounds, like he had Dean’s full attention now. “Shouldn’t she be with you?”
“She left and isn’t answering her phone.”
Silence. Dean didn’t seem like the type to muse on emotions, so maybe Chip couldn’t be surprised at the man’s prolonged pause and lack of condolences. “Do you know when she left?”
Bless Dean for not asking for details on why she’d left, only for the practical facts to find her now.
