A Moment of Truth: A Complete Bonus Set (A Matter of Trust #1-2) (42 page)

Camille separates Bridget and me. “We care, but we’re also pretty sure there’s more to it, and you deserve to know the full story before you throw in the towel on your relationship. Now get up and get your ass to London!” Camille says.

“My ticket’s no good.”

“We’re going to JFK to see if you can get a new one. Now get up.”

“Oh right, because it’s that easy, right?”

“Up!”

I huff as I get ready, commenting all the while about how uncomfortable this is and how awkward showing up will be, and they just watch me from my bed with pursed lips, not having any of it. Finally, they go into their rooms to grab their bags. I see that my coat I left at the club has somehow made it back to the apartment.

“How did my coat get here?” I call out.

“Dan brought it last night,” Bridget shouts from her room. I sniff it. Fortunately and unfortunately, it smells vaguely like him.
Damn his soap-and-shaving-cream scent.

We arrive at JFK and head to the counter of the airline I was supposed to fly out on yesterday. I stammer, attempting to explain the situation to the customer service representative, who is already shaking her head no, when Camille pushes me aside and cuts to the chase. She throws out that I’m Dan Chase’s girlfriend, which I roll my eyes at, shows her the uber-first class ticket that he purchased, which the rep looks up, and suddenly the woman perks up and starts talking about how much she loves him, is hot for him, how lucky I am, and on and on and ends up printing me a ticket for the next flight. I’m standing there baffled at the power of celebrity and the power of Camille.

Camille thanks the woman, and she and Bridget lead me to security.

“Okay, so you’re all set!” Camille says victoriously as the two of them smile at me.

“Yeah. Awesome.”

“Do you know his parents’ address?”

“Yes,” I grumble.

“Good.”

“Don’t tell him I’m coming Camille, okay? Or Colin. Neither of you. Promise me.”

“Okay, okay”

Camille grabs my shoulders. “You’re going to be fine. No matter the outcome, you need this, and you will be fine. Say it.”

“I’ll be fine,” I mumble.

“Call us when you get in.”

I nod and they literally push me forward.

Bridget yells, “Your big girl panties look awesome!”

Succumbing to a laugh, I flip her off and continue walking toward the security line. The plane doesn’t board for a while so I’ve got plenty of time. Once I’m through the security screening, I find my gate, plant myself on a seat, and begin thinking, which is not what I need right now. Or ever, really.

How the hell am I going to just show up at his family’s house? And what’s he told them? The truth? That he’s an asshole with no dick control?
I roll my eyes at Bridget and Camille forcing me here.
Fuck. It’s Christmas Eve Day, and I’m pissy and unsettled, and frankly, my heart’s still bleeding. This isn’t funny or fun or silly or anything. It’s make or break, actually.
The thought sends a shiver through me, and dread fills my gut.

I need a sign that things are going to be okay. That flying to London unannounced isn’t the dumbest idea ever. I wait for a long while, still and silent, for the sign.

There are PA announcements. People coming. People going. Babies screaming.

But no sign.

Deciding I’m an idiot waiting for a sign, I get up to find food. I really have no appetite, so I get in line for coffee. I order, pay, get my coffee, and stick the receipt in my coat pocket when I notice there’s already a paper in there. Maybe it’s money, but I pull out a folded piece of paper with my name on the outside. I freeze. It’s Dan’s writing.

I find a seat near my gate and stare at the note.
Do I want to read this? Should I read this?
The debate rages on in my head while they begin boarding the plane. I stuff the letter back in my pocket and board the plane. Once I’m settled in my seat and we’re in the air, I dig out the letter again. I open it slowly and read:

Claire—Maybe it’s too late, but I hope you’ll hear what I have to say before you end things. Please. ~ Dan

A sign. Tears well up in my eyes again. I hate that I love him.

I lean back, and stare out of the window at the dark, evening skies. I’m exhausted and fall asleep, only to wake when we’re nearly there. I sit up, stretch a bit and blink, and it all hits me: I’m going to see Dan. There’s so much trepidation, so much riding on this.

After landing, going through customs, and grabbing my bags, I get a cab and give the address, which turns out to be about an hour away. I take a deep breath, settle in, and panic in the back of the cab.
How is this going to go down?

Chapter Sixteen

I arrive at Dan’s family’s house. It’s on a quaint, tree-lined street of row houses, each front door painted a different color. The bare branches of the small trees sway with the biting wind, and the mid-morning sun peeks through the gray clouds.

Under normal circumstances, I’m sure I’d be enchanted by the view, but right now, my belly’s a twisting pit of anxiety. I have no idea what time these people wake up, and here I am about to barge in on them. They could even be at church. And as horribly awkward as this is, and as much as I hate to admit it, I know the Fairy Slutmothers are right—I need to know the whole story.

I pay the cabbie and stand on the sidewalk with my lone suitcase, fortifying myself. I step up to the bright yellow door, smooth out my hair and knock, hands shaking.
Please let someone be home because it’s so damn cold out here.

The door swings open, and the woman standing there has to be one of Dan’s sisters. She’s a striking, long-haired blonde who’s got his same smile, which is aimed at me.

“Hi. Um, I’m Claire Parelli, Dan’s—”

“Oh, I know who you are. Come on in—it’s fucking freezing out there!” She grabs my arm and yanks me inside. I drag my small luggage in at the same time, trip, and nearly fall into the compact foyer. “I’m so glad you’re here! I’m Charlotte. Let me take your coat.” I begin to unbutton it as I glance around. There’s a staircase in front of me to the left and a small hallway on its right side with a doorway to a living room on the right, where people I can’t see are chattering away.

“I’m sorry I’m late in coming, you know, in the middle of things and so early.” I hand her my coat and momentarily panic, having forgotten what I’m wearing. I glance down—I’m in dark jeans, boots, and an oversized sweater. Decent enough, although I really hope I don’t stink. I almost wish I could sniff my armpits just in case.

“Don’t give it a second thought.” She takes my coat and hangs it inside a small closet in the foyer. I give my pits a quick sniff while she’s not looking.
Phew. I’m not overly ripe.
“I think we’ll all be glad you’re here. He’s been such a bitchy pain in the ass—well, the few moments we’ve seen him, anyway, since he’s holed up in his bedroom like when he was thirteen or fourteen and just so—”

“Hello!” In walks an older woman. She’s light-haired and slender, and of course, gorgeous, too. “You must be Claire. I’m Danny’s mum.”

Danny!
I offer my hand. “Hi. It’s nice to meet you.” She takes my hand and pulls me into a tight hug.

She lets go and studies me. “I’m Beatrice. So good to finally meet you. You know, he texted me a photo of you two, but it didn’t do you justice. You are just stunning.” My face flames. She turns to Charlotte. “Now I understand why he’s been so upset.”

I’m taken aback. “Do you know what—”

“What happened? None of the details, but we knew something happened,” his mom says. “When you didn’t come with him and with that look on his face, oh I just knew something was wrong.”

“He was a prick, wasn’t he?” Charlotte asks. “Clearly, he didn’t use the stellar advice I gave him on how to treat you and—”

A commotion from upstairs—a door slamming followed by the pounding of feet tearing across the floor above—distracts us all. We turn toward the staircase just as a pair of Christmas-stockinged feet bolt down the wooden steps two at a time and jump down the last couple to reach the bottom, landing with a hard thud. It’s Dan, and he’s in a maroon Christmas sweater and jeans, and as always, he takes my breath away. I want to hug him and my heart begins jumping with excitement, but a wall of sadness and dread separates me from him.

“Hi,” he says, swallowing, his eyes wide. His cheeks redden, and he notices his mom and sister. “I guess you’ve met Claire.”

“We did. Why don’t you get her something to drink?” his mom says. “I’m sure she’s thirsty from traveling all night, Danny.”

He nods, rubs the back of his neck, and mumbles, “Yeah, traveled all night.” He seems dazed, confused almost. I’m not sure what to say or do.

“Was your flight all right?” asks Beatrice.

“Yes, thank you.”

She takes my hand and leads me into the living room. “I’m just so happy you’re here. Let me introduce you to everyone.”

First, there’s Dan’s other sister, Gabrielle, who is identical in every way to Charlotte except Gabrielle has shorter blond hair. “Pleasure to meet you,” she says with a wicked grin, shaking my hand and eyeing Dan at the same time. Then there’s Aunt Sarah and Uncle Brenden, his grandmother, and two cousins, Scott and Jack, who are ten and twelve. Then there’s Dan’s dad, Brian, who is an older and just as handsome version of Dan, except with streaks of gray hair on the sides. He’s striking.

He shakes my hand. “Lovely to meet you, Claire. Danny’s told me a lot about you.”

I glance behind me at Dan, who is still red-faced and looks like he might vomit. His eyes shift to his feet. “We’ll be right back,” Beatrice says, leading me into the kitchen. “You’re just in time to eat, too. I’m sure you’re starving. I just have a few things left to put out.”

“It smells delicious,” I say, my stomach rumbling.

“Thank you,” she says, proudly. “Danny, get her a drink, please.”

“Right. Um, what would you like?” He rubs the back of his neck again. “We have coffee, tea, water, wine, orange juice and mimosas.” I feel as nervous as he’s acting. My stomach flutters. I really just want this conversation to happen, but it’s obvious we’ll need to wait until later, so until then I should drink. “A mimosa, please.”

“Of course,” he says, fumbling and clanking the glass at one counter to fix it. When he brings it to me, he keeps a hold of the glass and a hold on my eyes.

He’s about to say something when his mother says, “Okay, you two lovebirds, time to eat.” My face flames again as I turn to see his mom, holding a platter of fresh fruit and smiling brightly at us. She walks out of the room, calling everyone in the house into another room I haven’t seen yet. Dan holds me back from following her.

“I . . . um . . .” He stops, and I can tell he’s debating what to say, but after a moment, he sighs. “Merry Christmas, Claire.” He releases the glass.

“Merry Christmas, Dan.”

“Danny!” his mom calls from the other room.

“We should get in there,” I say.

He nods, looks at my hand, and glances up, gauging me as he reaches for my fingers. I let him take hold. My heart’s mixed up. “This way,” he says, leading me through a doorway from the kitchen. We enter the dining room that’s beautifully decorated with holly, mistletoe, wreaths, twinkling lights, and candles strewn about. He holds out a seat for me. His sister Charlotte scoots next to me quickly, giggling, gobbling up the seat Dan wanted. Dan’s dad is to my right. Dan huffs and sits across from me, next to his other sister, Gabrielle.

Plates of eggs, bacon, toast, fruit, and items I’ve never seen or tried before but smell delicious are passed around. I only wish I had more of an appetite.

During the meal, Dan and I occasionally catch eyes, but we both look away. It’s just too much to have him right here with all of these questions mounting in my head. I try to be as polite and cordial as possible, but I know I’m overly quiet. I’m just not me. 

As we eat, everyone speaks so kindly to me, and it strikes me how different it is than when Dan came to my parents’ house—the grilling, the awkward silences, the underlying challenges—and frankly, it was shitty and embarrassing. I find myself growing quieter as my mind huddles around this very idea.
How can I feel like a native here in a foreign country with people I’ve only just met, yet with my own family I feel so foreign?

No more than a few seconds pass after the meal is over when Dan says, “Would you like to go for a walk?”

“Would you, please? You two have been eyeballing each other this whole time. Just go and get the conversation over with already. Jeez,” Charlotte says, winking at me.

His mother laughs. “Oh, I remember that one year when you and I hardly said two words to one another,” she says to his dad.

He dabs at his lips, smiling. “Oh yes. One of the first years we spent Christmas together, I had the brilliant idea of getting her new oven mitts—”

“Can you believe that? Oven mitts,” she says, scoffing.

“Well, you had been going on about how your old ones were so tattered you kept burning yourself. So here I am, thinking she’ll love them, and she starts swatting me with them instead! I ran all over the house and escaped after I fled through the front door, which she promptly locked behind me, and I had no shoes on and there was snow on the ground. Then I’m outside banging on the door and pleading to be let in. She left me out there for hours!”

“Hours? Not hours. Minutes, maybe. Probably seconds.”

“It was long enough that my toes were nearly purple by the time she did relent and let me in. Horrible. I’ve still not forgiven you,” he says with a wink and a smile.

“You haven’t forgiven me? Well, I still haven’t forgiven you!” She smiles slyly.

We all laugh.

Charlotte interrupts. “You’re all a little too flirty for my liking. You’ll give me nightmares. I think I need more to drink.”

“Well, enough of us. Go do your talking while I get this place cleaned up,” his mother says, standing. She points to Dan’s dad. “And you’re helping!”

Dan and I leave the table and grab our coats. We button up and head outside, which has turned grayer since I arrived. We walk down the street, side by side, but there’s a chasm of awkwardness between us. “Looks like it might snow,” he says.

“You’ll be noticed here on the sidewalk. Shouldn’t we hide or something?”

“Fuck that. I’m tired of fucking hiding.”

Whoa.
I nod again, unsure of how to respond, let alone start this conversation that I flew all this way to have. I probably should have planned something to say rather than just worrying about what would be said. My heart’s sure pounding hard.

“I’m surprised you came,” he says.

“Should I not have?” I stop walking, panicking inside.

He stops, too, and looks at me. “No, no. I’m glad you did.” He continues walking.

I keep up, but a few moments later, I can’t take the uncertainty anymore. I stop again and face him. “Just tell me—how long have you been cheating on me with Sophie? I should have known that’s why she was all over you on those shows.”

“What shows?” His brows are knitted together.

“During promotion. You asked me to watch, remember? I had to stop, by the way, because she was crawling all over you every time I watched.”

He shakes his head as if he’s confused, but how can he be? “You’ve got this all wrong, Claire. I’m not cheating on you. I didn’t sleep with her during promo.”

“So she’s lying?”

He exhales deeply. His jaw tightens and shakes his head before he speaks. “The truth is I slept with her one night, last spring after you broke up with me.” He rubs the back of his neck and his cheeks burn bright red. “I know you were going through your own thing then, and I get it, or I got it, but it still hurt like fucking hell. I didn’t think I’d see you again. You came into my life like a tornado—blowing everything up—in a very good way, but then you left, and frankly, it fucking sucked, Claire. So when we had our cast party, I got wasted like I did every fucking night back then, and she came onto me. I was lonely and sad, and even though Colin tried to stop me, I had nothing to lose, because I thought I’d already lost the one thing I loved—you. So it didn’t matter. Did it help to sleep with her? No. It just made seeing her afterward weird.”

Oh boy. Definitely not what I expected.

He starts pacing in front of me, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry you found out the way you did, but . . . was I going to tell you about it the moment we got back together? No.” He stops to look at me then continues pacing. “For one, I was so happy to be back with you, that I didn’t really think of it, and two, once I did think of it, was I going to risk losing you again by telling you about one night while we were broken up that meant nothing? So I kept quiet, and I really, honestly, didn’t think much about it, until I saw you and Sophie speaking at the after-party. I know she’s a bitch, but I thought she had enough respect for me not to hurt you, and in essence me, by telling you. Clearly, I was very wrong about that.”

He continues to pace in front of me. I want to say something, but he continues, “And you can’t tell me that you wouldn’t have run away from me if I told you about it, because you did.” He stops to face me again. “You ran.
Again.
I’m tired of you running. I’m not a saint; I’m fucking human.”

My chest is tight with an avalanche of emotions. I can hardly breathe, let alone speak.

Behind his eyes are pain and anger—his stiff posture and strained jaw confirm it. “I would never cheat on you, Claire. Never. I’ve been cheated on, and it’s humiliating and painful, so I’d never do that to you. I’d end things before I did that. I promise you that. And I hope the same goes for you—that you wouldn’t cheat on me. I see how other men look at you.” His eyes narrow a fraction.

I shake my head. “Never.”

“I understand why you left the way you did the other night, maybe I would have done the same, I don’t know, but I wish you had enough faith in me to talk to me or to answer my calls. Why are you so ready to believe that I’d lie to you?” He waits, hands deep in his coat pockets, his eyes expectant.

My gaze falls to my feet, which are freezing. I take a moment to gather my thoughts, which are running amuck in my head. “I don’t know . . . I probably should have, but I was completely blindsided by it. And the look on Sophie’s face was so smug and satisfied—just the idea of you and her . . .” I shake my head, trying to stop the vision, and look up at him. I take a deep breath and focus on his sea-green eyes.
Lay it out, Claire.
“Old habits die hard. I’m always waiting for something bad to happen, because being with you is like . . .” My heart is racing so hard I’m having a hard time speaking. “A dream, and it’s easier to believe that this cannot be real than to believe that it
is
real. That someone as amazing as you could love me . . . as much as I love you.” I watch him carefully. He swallows hard, and I swear his eyes glisten, but that could just be the sparkle of snowflakes that have started to fall.