Bound for Nirvana: (The Bound Trilogy Book 3) (19 page)

We’d been driving for just under an hour when we entered the beautiful suburb of Greenwich, Connecticut. After a couple of miles of rolling countryside and woodland, we turned off the road and drove through a set of ornate iron gates already standing wide open, like a pair of welcoming arms. The long sweeping driveway was flanked on either side by perfectly manicured, lush, green lawns, which eventually led to a wide courtyard. The house was beyond my imaginings, an extraordinary stone Georgian estate with a magnificent entrance and a gorgeous, solid wood statement door.

Ethan drove the Bugatti over the crunching gravel and brought it to a halt just out front, my stomach lurching with the sudden onset of nerves.

Reading my mind or the sudden greenish color of my complexion, he leaned over and grasped my shoulders planting a firm reassuring kiss on my mouth. “You’ll be fine. Come on.”

I didn’t feel fine, I felt faint.

Ethan opened his door, but instead of getting out, he turned to me with what seemed like an afterthought. “Oh and, Angel?
I
will call Sloane. I don’t want you interacting with him at all.”

As if he was bringing that up again, now.

“Fine, E. Right now I couldn’t care less if you got the mob to call him.”

Nodding his approval, he unraveled his long limbs and climbed out of the car, moving around to the passenger side to open my door. I closed my eyes for a beat and swallowed a lung full of air before climbing out to join him.

“It’s amazing.” I stared up at the stunning face of the house and breathed in the fresh country air.

Grinning, he stepped up to the impressive door, turned the handle and pushed it open.

“Shouldn’t we knock?” I asked in a stunned whisper.

“No, baby.” His wry smile lit up his eyes. “This is my family’s home.”

He tugged me inside and into a vast entryway with herringbone floors and double doors leading off to both the left and right. Ahead, there was a step up to a raised hallway, which appeared to reach right to the back of the house, around and beyond the striking centerpiece, a wide-sweeping staircase leading to a galleried landing. Natural light flooded the space, leaking in from various sources. It gave the house a warm, inviting feel, and I felt instantly at home.

We walked deeper into the house toward the sound of distant voices growing more distinct with each step. Two voices—one man, one woman, but I couldn’t quite make out their conversation because of the incredibly irritating, thudding noise which seemed to be drowning them out. I was just about to ask Ethan what in the hell all the racket was about when I realized it was the sound of my own heart pounding noisily against my ribs. I inhaled deeply, silently repeating words of self-encouragement in my head:
You’ll be fine, you’ll be fine, you’ll be fine.

“Come on, sounds like they’re in the sitting room,” he whispered as we approached a set of solid wooden doors sitting slightly ajar. Releasing my hand, he pushed them open to enter the room. I hung back nervously in the shadows of the hallway, not wishing to intrude on their reunion, my vision of the room still slightly obscured by the large double doors.

“Ethan, you’re here.” The silky tones of the female voice were now lucid as Veronica Wilde fluttered into view and straight into Ethan’s open arms. The exchange was unexpected, but pleasantly so. The two were so obviously used to openly displaying love and affection, I felt my heart squeeze with joy at the wonderful sight of this woman embracing her first born child.

She was a slim woman, mid-fifties with honey-colored hair, the same as Ethan’s, and although I couldn’t quite see her face, I knew from her build and the way she held herself that she was beautiful.

“Oh, Mom, it’s so good to see you.” Ethan hugged her back tightly, only releasing her when a third person strode into view, clapping him affectionately on the back, before tugging him into a bear hug.

“Good to have you home, Son.” Richard Wilde was slightly shorter than Ethan, his frame more solid like Damon’s. He had strong, handsome features and steel gray hair, which contrasted perfectly with his sun-kissed complexion.

“Dad, you’re looking really well. The vacation must have worked its magic.”

“Yeah, I feel great. All ready to get back to work now, Son.”

“Oh, no you don’t,” his wife scolded.

“I’m joking with you, woman.” Richard rolled his eyes as he laughed with his son.

Suddenly, Ethan turned in my direction. “Mom, Dad, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” He strode toward me, gripping my hand and tugging me out of the shadows.

Veronica Wilde clapped her hands together excitedly. “I knew it.”

You’ll be fine, you’ll be fine, you’ll be fine
.

Plastering on my bravest smile, I stepped into the light, airy space just as Ethan announced me proudly to his parents. “This is my girlfriend, Angel.”

“Angel?” The light in Veronica’s eyes faded, as did the sound of my name on her lips the very second her gaze locked with mine. I watched in horror as her smile vanished, the blood appearing to drain from her face to turn her milky white. “Angel…”

“Jesus Christ.” Richard’s expression and tone were filled with a heart stopping horror to match his wife’s.

“Mom, what is it? Dad?” I vaguely heard Ethan’s perplexed and anxious voice through the deafening rush of blood in my ears as he gaped from one parent to the other.

My chest burned with the need for breath as I held it, waiting in that frozen moment for someone to speak, to smile, to welcome me like they had in those movie moments I’d rehearsed earlier. But there was nothing, no greeting. Just a devastating wall of silence.

Whatever I was, I wasn’t what they’d expected.

They hate me, they hate me, they hate me.

I wanted to turn and run, but my body was rooted to the spot, immobile under their mortifying, torturous scrutiny.

“Will someone tell me what the hell is going on?” Ethan sounded angry now, afraid even. “Mom! Please. You look like you’ve seen a goddamn ghost. What’s wrong?”

Veronica took a couple of cautious steps closer and slowly raised her hand. I shrunk back instinctively, but to my utter bewilderment, she reached out and brushed her fingertips lightly over my cheek.

“Mom?” Ethan pleaded.

Veronica Wilde gave no indication that she’d even heard him, her eyes skimming my face repeatedly, as if she were trying to absorb every detail of my features. “You’re Angelica.” Her voice was soft, almost dreamlike. “Angelica Lawson.”

I barely nodded as I trembled beneath her touch, my tattered mind trying to comprehend how she could possibly know me.

“My God, you’re the mirror image of her.”

“Wh-who?” I muttered in horror.

And for the first time, Veronica Wilde smiled at me, her face imbued with warmth as she breathed her answer. “Your mother.”

Chapter Nine

My mother?

I stared dumbfounded, unable to form any semblance of thought or speech, my mind just rolling over the words resounding in my head.

My mother, my mother, my mother.

Nobody had ever spoken to me about my mother. Aside from the toxic jibes of my toxic family—nobody. Not ever.

Sensing my panic and confusion, Ethan moved quickly to my side, his arms folding around me like a security blanket. “Mom…” His voice was filled with confusion but gentle, coaxing. “Are you saying you knew Angel’s mother?”

Veronica blinked, her lashes fluttering, as if clearing the fog from her mind, and her gaze flickered briefly to her son. She nodded. “Yes. She was my dearest friend.” Her eyes returned to mine, more lucid now. “Oh my goodness, you must think we’re completely crazy. Richard?” She reached behind her for her husband, who moved next to her instantly, his look of stunned incredulity still firmly etched on his handsome face.

“Welcome, Angelica.” The emotion extended to his voice as he took my hand in both of his. “This must have come as a bit of a shock. Why don’t we sit down?”

As though I was suddenly separate from my own body, I only vaguely recall Ethan guiding me toward a large sofa and the relief I felt as the weight lifted from my trembling legs when I settled into it. For a few minutes nobody spoke a word, each one of us absorbing the bizarreness of the situation. My gaze focused on my lap and my hands entwined with Ethan’s, allowing my thoughts to venture no further than how they got there. I couldn’t remember.

“I’m so sorry. This isn’t the welcome I had planned.” Veronica paused for a beat. “I just can’t get over how much like her you are.”

There it was again, talk of how I resembled her—
my mother
. Still unable to form words, I turned searchingly to Ethan, somehow silently conveying all my confusion and alarm to the only person I knew would make sense of it. He responded instantly. “Mom, Angel doesn’t have any recollection of her mother.”

Veronica looked dazed for a moment. “No, of course. Well, it’s such a long time ago now, you were very young. It must have been awful for you. I’m so sorry.”

“No, I mean she doesn’t remember anything. Not even what her mom looked like. Her dad, he… he destroyed all the photographs, any chance of a memory.”

Veronica stared at her son in horror as she realized the enormity of her revelation, her hand fluttering up to cover her mouth as if she’d spoken out of turn.

Richard put his hand on her shoulder. “I think maybe we should start at the beginning.”

I sipped cold water from a glass someone had placed in my hands, lowering it quickly to my lap through fear of spilling it. My hands were trembling so much I couldn’t trust them. Ethan noticed and closed his fingers over mine to quell the shudder.

“I’m sorry, Ethan,” Veronica, said observing the supportive gesture. “If we’d had even the slightest inkling, I would have warned you. I mean, your sister let it slip that you were serious about someone, but she refused to tell us more, not even Angel’s name—said that she’d made you a promise not to divulge your news.”

“I know, Mom, it’s okay,” Ethan tried to reassure her. “Just tell us how you knew Felicity.”

Veronica nodded apologetically and turned her attention to me. “We met in tenth grade.” She smiled as if the memory was clearly a happy one. “My family had just moved to New York from Chicago and I was terrified because I didn’t have any friends, but your mom helped me fit right in. She was incredibly popular, with the boys and the girls, legs that went on forever and the face of a… well, of an angel.” She looked uncomfortable as she glanced over her shoulder. “Where has your father gone to with those photographs?”

Richard had disappeared up to the attic—at Veronica’s request—in search of a box of photographs. A box I was certain would be the key to unlocking my memories. As I waited in painful anticipation, a strange muddle of fear and overwhelming excitement ran riot in my head, almost as if I were actually about to meet my mom for the very first time.

“We became the best of friends and remained so right through college,” Veronica continued, “sharing all the best parts of growing up, college dances, boys, heartbreak. Your mom was with me the night I met Ethan’s father; it was her who persuaded me to dance with him.” She lowered her voice. “I’d had my eye on someone else for a while, but Richard was so persistent…” Her words trailed off as if realizing she was digressing. “Of course, later she met your father and then you guys came along… and… God this is all such a shock. I can’t believe you two have found each other again after all these years. It’s so romantic.”

Ethan’s eyes nearly fell out of his head. “Wait! What do you mean? Found each other
again
?”

“Oh dear, I’m not making a very good job of this.” She took a breath, checking again for any sign of her husband’s return.

“Mom? Me and Angel? Have we met before?” Ethan pressed his mom for answers.

“Yes, darling.” She smiled at us both. “You were the best of friends, right up until the day we left for London. Inseparable, in fact. I’m afraid it broke your heart when we left New York.”

“I… I don’t understand.” Ethan turned to look deep into my eyes as if suddenly trying to familiarize himself with my face before shoving his hands into his hair in exasperation.

What in the hell was going on here? I couldn’t seem to engage my brain into any functional, reactive gear, like my mind wouldn’t allow this surreal information to take any discernible shape. In response, I found myself digging the arcs of my nails into the palm of my hand in some attempt to wake myself up from what must surely be just another one of my crazy dreams.

Veronica smiled and nodded at her son’s hands clasped firmly over mine. “You were protective of her even then. Caused a storm in kindergarten when you pushed over another child because he wanted to join in your game.”

Ethan and I gazed at each other in utter disbelief. Part of me wanted to shout at Veronica for playing such a cruel joke, that what she was saying couldn’t possibly be true, because I would remember. Then suddenly I saw a flicker of something in Ethan’s eyes, as if he were trying to grasp the sliver of a memory which kept slipping away from him like a fallen leaf on a breeze.

“You used to play for hours, giggling and talking, but it would always turn to tears when it was time to go home.” Veronica gazed at me, her smile fading a little with the discernible arrival of a troubling memory. “Your mom used to say it was the only time she would see you smile, when you were with Ethan.”

Her words bit into my heart, twisting with a pain that was so recognizable I knew that what she said was true. Because the same was true for me now—nothing had changed.

“Ah, there you are, Richard.” Ethan’s dad pushed through the doors of the room, carrying a large cardboard box. He had a fine sheen of sweat across his brow and a smudge of some old forgotten attic dust down one side of his cheek. “Just here, darling.” Veronica directed him to lay the box at her feet.

Richard knelt beside it and flipped the lid. “Can you remember which one they’re in, Ronnie?”

Ronnie
?

“Yes, the blue velvet ones. Yes, that’s it.” She took a blue velvet photo album from her husband’s hands, blew a fine layer of dust from the surface, and laid it on her lap.