Averill _A Secrets Novella Read online

  “Did you order the whole menu?” From the looks of the numerous dishes, he ordered enough food to last us for days, not solely for a late-night dinner.

  “Not quite, but I did order a ton of fruit so we’d have it on hand for a couple of days, in case we needed it.” He says this like he knows for certain we won’t be leaving our bungalow. I don’t necessarily plan on leaving, but he may not like what I want to talk about, could act rashly and leave for some air. He takes time to process things. By now, I know this about him, and me bringing up babies may throw him a tad off kilter.

  “I see. Did you order any protein for energy? Because from the fire in your eyes, I know we’re going to need it.”

  His eyes—exactly like mine in color—seem to glow with his desire, like liquid fire.

  Clearing his throat, he drops my gaze and pulls out a chair, motioning for me to take a seat. “If you keep looking at me like you’d rather eat me for dinner, we may not ever get this talk over with, Tiger Lily. Don’t mention the fire in my eyes and think I don’t see the same fire glaring back at me from yours.” Pushing in my chair, he brushes my hair back and whispers in my ear, “Let’s eat, babe.”

  “Consider the subject dropped…for now. The greasy airport cheeseburger has worn off.” Not to mention stuffing food into my mouth will help with the nervous butterflies deciding to make their appearance in my stomach. I shouldn’t be this nervous to bring up the subject of children. He’s never flat out said he never wants them. Add in the fact that he wanted to kill Smith for destroying my lovebug, and the odds seem to be stacked heavily in my favor.

  “As far as protein, I’ve ordered ahi tuna, halibut, coconut shrimp, ribeye steak, and grilled chicken breast. I admit to going a bit overboard, but my wife deserves the best. Plus, I didn’t know what you’d be in the mood for, so I ordered whatever sounded appealing to me.”

  “Rhys.” My mouth drops open, and it takes all I have in me not to laugh when I want to sound baffled, but it is hilarious. “Who in the hell orders what one can only assume is $500 in room service for one sitting? There’s no way we’ll eat all this food before it spoils. You should call Brant and have him come eat. We both know he has a never-ending stomach.”

  “We have a mini kitchen with a fridge and all we need to keep any leftovers. You can stop freaking out. Who cares if it cost $500? I married the girl of my dreams and am on my honeymoon. The only thing that could make me happier would be to expand our family, but I’m in no rush—I know we will someday. Eat up, and quit grumbling about the cost or the waste. It’ll all be eaten over the next few days, and not by Brant.”

  Now my mouth is open in shock for another reason. Tears are gathered in the corners of my eyes, and if he says one more word, they’ll start falling.

  He said he wants a family.

  He wants a family right away.

  He wants exactly what I want, what I’ve been extremely nervous to bring up.

  A baby.

  A lovebug of our own.

  Not one made out of carelessness or lack of real love, but one who’ll know what it feels like to be loved by both parents, one who will stand a chance of making it into the world because the monster who killed its sibling is no longer a threat.

  Our baby.

  One with amber eyes of fire and hair as dark as night.

  “Averill?”

  Blinking, I bring him back into focus as the tears start steadily streaming down my face.

  “Av, you’re starting to scare me. Say something.”

  “Y-You want a b-baby?” I manage to get out, my voice trembling, the tears flowing freely.

  “I want everything with you,” he says, grasping my face in both of his hands, gently wiping away my tears of joy. “Averill, I’ve always wanted a family with you. I’ve been waiting to bring up the subject for a while because I didn’t know if you were ready, didn’t know if you wanted to try to get pregnant again. Why do you think I brought Sadie home?”

  Before I can answer, his lips sweep over mine, stealing a kiss, over and over again. When he stops, I peer into his eyes and speak the words written on my heart.

  “Yes, a million times yes. I want a baby more than you could possibly know. It’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Since the day I knew you’d be with me forever—which was the first day you walked into my store and brought me lunch—I’ve wanted a family with you. You’ll make an amazing father, Rhys.”

  If I thought his eyes were lit with fire a few minutes ago, I was mistaken. They’re ablaze brighter than ever before, the iron color they resemble glowing clearly now. His desire shows from them stronger than I’ve ever witnessed, and it’s like admitting we want a child snapped the control he was holding on to for reasons unknown. Maybe he was as scared as I was about broaching the subject.

  Pushing my chair back, I grab his hand and begin to lead him toward the bedroom. The food can wait; we have more pressing matters to attend to.

  Kneeling before him, I wordlessly begin removing his clothes, first his shoes, followed swiftly by his socks. Unbuttoning his jeans, I carefully start sliding them over his hips, down his legs. He’s made it easy on me and is going commando. Glancing up at him, I quirk my eyebrow in question.

  “I had plans to try to join the mile-high club,” he says, which is funny because I had similar plans.

  “We were on the same wavelength. It’s why I was wearing my shortest sundress…with no panties.”

  It seems he’s done with my undressing him as he bends and grabs me under my arms, hauling me up and tossing me down gently onto the bed. Before joining me, he rips his shirt roughly over his head. He stands before me, gloriously naked, and it’s a sight I’ll never tire of seeing. Grabbing the tie on my robe, I start to undo the knot, but Rhys shakes his head no, halting me.

  “Leave it,” he growls.

  He starts crawling up the bed, placing kisses all along my body as he does, starting with my feet. “We’ll have a baby girl, and she’ll have her mama’s cute-as-fuck toes.” He proceeds to kiss each toe before moving on.

  “You think my toes are cute?”

  “I think they’re sexy, especially when I walk in and catch you painting them on the bathroom counter, but I called them cute because our baby will not have sexy toes.”

  Instead of kissing my legs, he licks a path from my ankle up to my knee, moving from the left leg to the right and repeating. “We’ll have a baby boy, and he’ll have his mama’s strength and courage.”

  “You’re stronger,” I manage to get out in between moans of pleasure. His path upward continues, his hands lightly parting my knees and pushing the robe up around my waist. His tongue flicks my clit before moving up to place a kiss on my belly button.

  “Our baby will have his or her mama’s cute outie belly button.” Undoing the knot of my robe, he slides it down my arms until it pools on the bed behind me. Once his hands start kneading my breasts, I know his game of imagining what our children will look like is over.

  His mouth leaves a trail of kisses up my neck, where he proceeds to nip my ear before sealing his mouth over mine. My tongue tangles with his, our breaths becoming one. Placing one hand on my face, his eyes peering into mine, he continues his assault on my mouth. He pushes into me with one hard thrust.

  Our lovemaking is unhurried, thorough, tender, and we don’t come up for air until well after the moon is high in the night sky.

  Sitting in the lounge chairs on our bungalow porch, we eat a lukewarm dinner, watching the waves crash against the shore.

  It’s the perfect beginning to the rest of our lives.

  These last few days have flown by, and we’ve only left the resort once.

  We’ve gone to dinner at the different resort restaurants, experienced our first couples massage, lounged by the beach, and gone out to one of their dance clubs.

  We’ve been wrapped up in each other and trying as many times as possible to expand our family. If this is what wedded bliss feels like, I never want the feel
ing to go away.

  Tessa sent out an SOS in the form of a text about an hour ago, asking me to meet her at the poolside tequila bar. She claims we need some “girl time” before she heads home and I leave for Italy in the morning. It’s probably true since I’ve only spent one afternoon with her while we’ve been here. That day, we lay on the beach near my bungalow, working on our tans while the guys attempted to play beach volleyball.

  I swear Rhys wants to hole up here in this bungalow until I’m pregnant with his child. He even made a remark about postponing Italy. Oh hell no. This girl is going to damn Italy.

  Nearly a complete month of traveling all over Italy with just Rhys—it’s going to be absolute bliss. We’re starting our trip off with a ten-day stay in Rome. We have a long list of must-sees and we’ll mark them all off: the Colosseum, Piazza Navona (where maybe I can sketch if anything inspires me), Castel Sant’Angelo, and the Roman Forum. Of course, I’ve asked to have one day dedicated to only the Sistine Chapel, the Pantheon (I want to see Raphael’s tomb), and the Vatican Museums. Splashed in throughout it all will be the Trevi Fountain and plenty of normal honeymoon actives.

  As we were lying in bed last night, Rhys told me he’d love to come back from our honeymoon knowing I was pregnant, and it’s totally possible since our whole trip is nearly five weeks. A whole lifetime of memories can be made in five weeks.

  Spying Tessa already stationed on one of the underwater barstools, I speedily slip off my sandals and enter the pool to join her. When you watch movies and see lavish pools with bars where you can still be relaxing in the pool while drinking, you don’t think there’s a real bar like it someplace in the world. Well, there is, and this one only serves tequila and tequila-based drinks. When she text messaged to say this was where she wanted to meet, I’ll admit, it made me feel nervous. If she’s hitting the tequila before noon, something has happened.

  “Hey Tess, what’s up?” Holy shit, she’s tan. It’s like she’s done nothing but work on worshipping the sun the whole week.

  “Brant is a bag of dicks, but we all know he’s always been one. Nothing new there.” She catches the eye of the barkeep and orders herself another drink along with one of whatever she’s drinking for me. “He’s never liked me, Av. Never. Not once has he given me a chance to explain myself to him. All I did was turn him down by saying, ‘Not now, Ace,’ when he asked for a date, and he’s never let me tell him why. It was a valid excuse, but dickbreath Brant Ashley doesn’t like explanations. Nope.”

  The barkeep brings our drinks and places a plate full of fresh fruit between us. Without saying a word, he disappears down to the other end of the bar. Who knew a pool bar would be this packed at barely noon?

  “What did he do this time?” I ask hesitantly. I know she’ll eventually tell me after she stews for a bit, but she’ll be drunker by then and I’d like to hear more from sober Tessa.

  “More like what didn’t he do. Wanna know? Take one guess, Av.”

  I don’t dare say what’s really on my mind, because she’d probably start screaming and making everyone nearby uncomfortable.

  “No guesses. All right, I’ll tell you.” She pauses for a minute like she needs to gather her courage before continuing on. When her hand tips my glass up as I try to take a drink, I know it’s not her courage she’s trying to gather—she wants me to be comfortably numb for her announcement.

  Shit.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  “You didn’t, did you?” Her eyes are already telling me everything I need to know. She slept with Brant. Holy shitballs, I couldn’t be more excited if it’s true. I’m silently screaming, Yes! Yes! Yes! while keeping my facial expressions completely neutral—or at least attempting to.

  “Hell no,” she manages to get out as she hiccups. She continues to hiccup for a few moments and I wait none too patiently for her to tell me what Brant did this time. Finally, she continues. “I said we needed more chick bonding time—and we do—but Brant has a bombshell of mind-fuckery to drop on Rhys today before he leaves to go back to Michigan. Last night, he took me out dancing, and—thanks to whiskey—he let slip what’s been bothering him this week. It’s not the trip itself—he actually loves the gift, but he feels guilty taking it when he’s done something horrible to Rhys.”

  I’m in shock.

  I’m not exactly sure what the bombshell could be, but why would Brant want to tell Rhys when he’s on his honeymoon? Why wait until now to say something?

  Downing my drink, I tap the empty glass on the bar top, getting the attention of the bartender and letting him know I need another. When he brings me my fresh drink, I tell him to keep them flowing freely—I have a feeling I’m going to need a few more, and I don’t even know what the secret is yet. Yes, we’re trying to get pregnant and I should abstain from drinking, but today I’ll make an exception. Just this once.

  Taking a deep breath, I turn and glance at Tessa. “Did he tell you what it is he did?”

  She’s chewing her thumbnail down to the quick, a nervous tick of hers and not a decent sign for me. It’s telling me without her answering me. She knows.

  She nods, affirming what her nail chewing led me to believe.

  “How horrible is it? Like how pissed off is Rhys going to be? I don’t want you to actually tell me because Rhys and I are a team who tell each other everything. I know he’ll tell me when I get back to our bungalow, but I’d like a warning of how upset he’ll be…drinking a few beers bad or drinking a whole bottle of whiskey bad?”

  Swallowing, she takes a moment to answer.

  “Whiskey.”

  Fuck.

  This honeymoon has now become a lot more complicated.

  The moment I walk into our bungalow, I can feel the change in the air. It’s thick with tension, and it reeks of whiskey and tequila. The latter could be coming from me, but I didn’t smell it on my walk back from the poolside bar, and I did only end up having the two drinks.

  “Rhys?”

  “He’s currently getting plastered—shitfaced, bombed, whatever you want to call it, I’m doing it. Have you heard the magnificent news?”

  Shit. He’s in far worse shape than I pegged him to be in with me only having been gone for an hour. From the sound of it, I’m guessing he’s already a bottle deep.

  “What magnificent news? If it’s good news, why are you celebrating without me?” I ask.

  “I’m being sarcastic. It’s mind-blowing news, world-altering, and it’s all on Brant’s shoulders.”

  I finally find him sitting in an armchair near the fireplace in the bedroom, a nearly empty bottle of tequila lying at his feet, the whiskey in his hands almost half gone.

  “What are you talking about? What did Brant do?” I’m shouting inside for him to spit it all out and tell me, but I’m also shouting for him to keep it all to himself. I don’t want to know what’s destroying my beautiful man.

  “You know the letters from my mother?”

  “Yeah,” I volley back. Please don’t let him say what I think he’s going to say.

  “Brant kept them from me, every single one of them.” Pausing to let it sink in, he takes another swallow of whiskey. “It seems my father paid him to keep me from getting them, and Brant worked his ass off to get to my mail before I did. It proved trickier once I moved, but he still did it. He kept every piece of correspondence from reaching me. He’d write on them and place them back into a mailbox where they were returned to my mother. She was never the wiser.”

  “What! You’re joking? It’s not all some enormous mistake?” Because the alternative is fucked up beyond all reason.

  “I wish I were. Whiskey?” He offers the bottle to me, and I grab it from him without hesitating.

  “How could he do something so unbelievably vile?” I murmur.

  My question goes unanswered. After taking a swig, I hand the bottle back and begin pacing. The Brant I’ve always known would never have done this…so why did he?

  “Did he give a reason as to why
he did it?”

  “Nope—although I didn’t give him much of a chance to before punching him. I’m positive I broke his nose, and the fucker deserved it. He deserved more—he’s lucky I stopped after one punch.” He stops his rant to take another drink, and the next words out of his mouth break my heart in two. “Averill, he’s broken my heart.”

  How do you comfort someone when they have a broken heart? I’m clueless. The only thing I know to do is what I like for him to do when I need comfort: offer me his strength. Taking the whiskey bottle from his hands again, I place it on the floor. His head is slumped down on his shoulders, and he barely notices me taking the bottle away.

  My beautifully strong man is broken.

  Softly, I lift his head, stare into his beautiful red-rimmed eyes, and whisper my words of love. I place myself on his lap, straddling him, never breaking eye contact. My hands hold the sides of his face, and I begin to gently wipe his tears away. The sigh he lets out is a heavy one, full of grief and anguish.

  After a few minutes of his tears falling silently, he places his head on my shoulder and leans into my embrace. I wrap my arms around him more securely and run my fingers through his hair, letting him cry it out. I’m not sure if it’s what he needs, but it’s the only thing I know to do.

  What feels like hours later but truly isn’t more than a few minutes, his breaths become steady and I know he’s fallen asleep. I’ve never wanted to hurt someone as much as I want to hurt Brant in this moment. How could he do this to Rhys? To someone he considers a brother? Frank can be a real dick, but he’s still Rhys’ father—why would he want the letters kept from him? What did he have against him receiving correspondence from his own mother? He had to have known how badly he was hurting his own son, not to mention his own wife.

  Aideen obviously had no idea this was going on—she’s as much a victim in this as Rhys is. If she only knew what her husband had Brant do. If the rates for international calls weren’t incredibly high, I’d call her immediately, while Rhys is sleeping, but I can text her for free.