Bad Boy (An Indecent Proposal)(32)

Pretending to be asleep was much easier than I anticipated. I wanted to avoid the awkward goodbye, the awful silence, and the embarrassing moment of having to stop my tears from falling, but not quite being able to. I thought saying goodbye before his actual departure and then seeing him leave would be easy, and yet I realized nothing about Chase was ever easy.

I had wanted to remember him the way I had come to know him: as Mystery Guy.

A guy with so many secrets he deserved his own mystery novel.

A man who had made me laugh, who had given me a special time to remember him by, who had made me trust him, open up to him. In spite of the lies he had told me, he’d always be in my heart.

As soon as the door closed, I willed myself to sleep, if only to stop the tears and the pain.

When I woke up again, evening was falling and the sun was setting on the horizon. Ignoring the pain in my skull, I forced myself to my feet when my gaze fell on the tiny note on Chase’s side of the bed.

It read:



I’ve left something for you at reception.

Consider it my parting gift.

Your husband



I pressed the note to my chest. Whatever Chase wanted me to have, it could wait. I wasn’t yet ready for more tears. It was hard enough that my room, the pillows, even my shirt, smelled of him. It was bad enough to know that the bed I was lying on was the one where we had made love. And it wasn’t just the room—it was everything about me, as if a part of him had remained behind, attaching itself to me in the form of memories, thoughts, feelings. I could almost see him standing to my left, sporting the most beautiful smile on his face while telling me what to wear. Peering to my right, I remembered the way he had kissed me on that spot before he pulled me into his arms with a fervor that had left me breathless.

It felt as though an entire week had passed, instead of hours. Already I missed our banter, his smile, everything about him. I peered at the time on my cell phone. By now his plane had taken off, returning him to a life that didn’t involve me.

Calling Jude was the right thing to do. Luckily, she sensed my inner turmoil instantly and stopped asking questions.

“When are you coming home?” she asked.

“Probably tomorrow.”

“And Chase?” She hesitated, as though she didn’t know whether he was a subject she could bring up. I could sense her discomfort in her delayed question.

“Don’t worry about him.” For the first time in my life, I didn’t try to hide the sadness in my voice. “He left. It’s better this way.”

The toxic tears from before began to build up in my eyes. It took all my willpower not to give in and break down. As if sensing it, Jude changed the subject, fake cheerfulness infused into her tone.

“Hey, I can’t wait to see you again,” she said. “I’ve heard of this yoga center that we need to check out. It’s supposed to be super cheap and great for you. I also bought the new Walking Dead season on DVD.”

“Great.” I smiled, missing her so much. “Did you have a sneak peek?”

“What kind of friend do you take me for?” she asked. “You know I’d never do something like that without you.”

I smiled, feeling grateful for the fact that when I returned to L.A. someone would be there for me.

Jude was right. She was my family. The only family I ever had. There was nothing I wouldn’t have given up for her.

“My flight’s tomorrow,” I said.

“You promise?”

I laughed through the curtain of tears blurring my vision. “You can bet on it.”

I ended the call quickly and began to plan the last day of my short vacation. The return flight ticket had to be booked so I called the reception area to inquire about available tickets.

Packing my things kept me busy for an hour or two. It had been a short vacation, but I felt different. Wiser. I had grown as a person. I finished up, leaving my bikini on the bed, deciding to visit the beach one last time, even though without Chase it wasn’t going to feel the same.

Once everything was packed, I headed downstairs.

“I hope you had a pleasant stay at Casa Estevan,” the receptionist said. It was the same one who had greeted me upon my arrival. Her hair was still bleached, and her eyebrows looked still horrible, but her smile—it looked genuine and caring.

“Thank you. It was the best.”

“I’m so glad to hear.” She handed me the info leaflet. “Here’s your flight information. I made sure to print everything out.”

“Thank you. I’ll be checking out tomorrow morning.” I flicked through the leaflet, and then pulled out my credit card. “How much is this going to be?”

“Your husband settled the bill this morning.” She smiled. “He also said to charge his card with your return flight and pay for the driver as long as you need him. And he left you this.” She kept her back turned on me as she retrieved a small box from a drawer, and then pushed it toward me. “He says it’s your birthday gift.”

My heart plunged. “Thank you.”

Once inside the safety of my hotel room, the heavy sadness inside me became unbearable. I suppressed the urge to run my hands over the pillow he had slept on, but I couldn’t quite fight the urge to hold on to that tiny memory of him.

Slowly, I leaned over the pillow and inhaled his scent. I knew I didn’t have to. The whole room still smelled of him. He seemed to be everywhere. Inside my heart. On my skin. In my thoughts.

And yet it wasn’t enough.

I leaned back on the bed.

My throat made a choked sound as another wave of pain rippled through me.

His parting gift—a white box with a turquoise ribbon—lay in my lap. No note was attached to it.

I opened it.

As soon as I lifted the lid, a shaky breath escaped my lips.

The first thing that caught my attention was the necklace—my mom’s necklace arranged on a black velvet pillow. My fingers shook as I lifted it up in the air. The amethyst, crowned by a Sterling silver Celtic design, sparkled in the sun. I realized Chase had kept true to his word. The loose stone had been fixed.

“Thank you,” I whispered, even though he was miles away and couldn’t hear me.

I had almost stashed away the box when I realized it was far too big and heavy. With a frown, I removed the lid and let out another shaky breath as my eyes fell on the letters and the familiar handwriting.

For Laurie.

It was my mother’s handwriting, without a doubt.

My breath made a whizzing sound as tears started flowing down my cheeks.

Oh, my God.

Chase got the letters. I had no idea how he did it, but it was amazing. When Clint called, I had been afraid he’d never give them to me. That he’d break his promise. I smiled as I realized all my fears had been unwarranted. Chase had picked them up for me. Gratitude and happiness settled within my heart, and for a moment I considered calling him to tell him just how grateful I was.

But that thought was quickly lost when I realized the magnitude of the situation.

My mom’s letters were mine. Finally.

A shaky breath escaped my lips as I stacked them together and lifted them to my face, inhaling their scent. They felt so old, fragile, but I could smell the lavender and her. A tear rolled down my cheek as my feelings erupted, leaving me a sobbing mess of joy and sadness.

At last, I scanned through them. There were only four of them—each of them had a few inscribed words at the back.

They said:



For Laurie when she has her first child.

For Laurie when she feels sad.

For him.



I frowned at the third letter, surprised that my mother had left a letter for Clint, but then of course she would. She had married him. There had to be a lot she never got to say.



My eyes fell on the last letter. The fourth one was much thicker than the other letters. It said:



Laurie, open me first after your twenty-third birthday.



It was directed at me, and so much thicker and larger than any other letter. A short shake, and I knew there was something inside. Pictures? A postcard?



My heart sped up as I let my finger trail over the familiar handwriting. I took my time opening it. When I finally did, I reread it a few times, and then I cried myself to sleep, feeling that my world had gone the darkest shade of black.

“Oh, my God,” I whispered, my voice choked, ready to die in my chest.

It made so much sense.

Everything I thought I knew had been crushed by her words.





Chapter 23





Eleanor’s Letter




This is for you, my daughter—the only thing I’ve really truly loved, like every mother should her child.

The day I’m writing this letter, you’re nine years old. In a few weeks, you’ll turn ten. I want you to get this letter when you’re twenty-three, maybe even older. By that time, at least thirteen years will have passed, and you’ll be a beautiful, intelligent woman.



You most certainly have many questions. There’s a great deal of information in this letter. Do not feel you have to understand everything at once. Some of what I will reveal will be hard to believe. Maybe you’ll be angry. Please ignore everything that you’re not ready to accept until you feel the right time has come. Understand, too, that I’m a human being. I made mistakes. I didn’t always know what’s right and what’s wrong.



My biggest fear is that, some of the things in this letter will make you judge me. Again, please know that I only want you to understand who I am, what happened to me, what I had to do. The truth is, much of what I’ve done was a mistake. I had no friends to help me see the truth. I had no one I could confide in. There was no one to teach me faith. I didn’t know better.