No One Knows Part 5

"Yeah. I am. So you see, now isn't really a good time for me to . . ."

She realized she'd finished the drink. It felt good. Good to have a little buzz. Good to talk to someone. Good to get it off her chest for once, instead of holding herself together.

Her mind said, Careful, Aubrey.

The rest of her said, Fuck off. For once, just leave me alone.

Too bad she couldn't listen to her own good advice.

"Chase, you seem like a nice guy. I don't think you want to get rolled up in my drama. I should probably go."

He actually looked hurt. "When are you going to stop trying to run away from me?"

"I can't help it. You remind me of him."

"Do we look similar?"

"Not at all. You are the exact opposite of him in many ways. But you walk alike."

And when you put your skin to mine, I feel like an electrical storm is surging through my body. Just like I did with him. And you're only ever supposed to feel that with one person. That's all it's supposed to be. You get one chance at this in life. One. No one really gets two bites at the apple, do they?

Chase had another half smile on his face.

"So I walk like your dead husband. Josh."

"Stop using his name," she snapped.

"Sorry. I thought . . ."

God, Aubrey. Extricate yourself already.

She wanted to leave. She wanted to walk out the door. But something was holding her there. Something . . .

"No, it's okay. This is my problem, not yours. I'm not ready to get involved with someone."

He was quiet for a moment, then said, "I see."

Vinny brought another drink. She took a large sip. Another. Another. Her head was feeling swimmy. She felt the edges slip away, that familiar rush.

She wasn't an alcoholic, far from it. Just a girl who got very drunk, very quickly, off any manner of alcohol. And didn't know when to stop.

The second drink was gone now. She signaled Vinny for another.

"You couldn't possibly understand," she said. "It doesn't even make sense to me."

"Couldn't I, Aubrey? There's no way for me to possibly understand?"

He took her hand. His thumb slid across the inside of her wrist. She was frozen.

"You know he's dead, but there's no body. So somewhere, deep inside you, in a place you don't ever acknowledge, there's a tiny quivering bead of hope."

Whisper-soft swipes against her skin. His touch was hypnotic.

"Yes."

"And you've been faithful to him, all these years."

"Yes."

"You were humiliated and embarrassed by the police and the press. Lost the respect of your peers, your friends, your family."

"Yes," she whispered.

He dropped his voice, and she heard something in there, something so familiar.

"I understand, Aubrey. I understand more than you could possibly know. You are a diamond, shining in the dark. It would be impossible for someone to leave you of their own volition."

His gaze was pulling her under. She felt herself slipping into the abyss. It would be so easy to get lost in those brown depths, to drown in them. She leaned forward, toward him, not sure what she intended. His face was shaped like Josh's, but his chin was different. His eyes were, too. Honestly, he looked nothing like her husband. But there was something about him . . .

"Hey, you two. What's up?"

Meghan's cheer yanked Aubrey back into her chair, and she pulled her hand from Chase's grip.

"Hi, Meghan. Nothing major. We're just chatting." She heard the slur in her voice. Damn. She needed some water. Her head. It was so thick, so full.

Meghan sat next to Aubrey, giving her shoulder a squeeze. "You might want to slow down there, sugar pop. Linda went home. I'm glad you're still here. I was afraid you might have slipped off into the night."

"Not yet," Chase said lightly. "We were just getting to know each other."

Meghan looked at the two of them closely and raised an eyebrow. "Am I interrupting?"

Aubrey laughed. It was a high-pitched whinny, bordering on hysteria. Drunk laugh. Drunk girl. The thought made her giggle again. "Of course not. We were just talking about . . . Chase, start again. What were you saying?"

He didn't miss a beat, and Aubrey liked him for it. Almost as if he knew she was getting too toasted and wanted to protect her secret.

"Like I was saying, Chicago's had the worst winter in decades. We've all been freezing. The idea of some warmer weather seemed like a good one when I booked the ticket."

Yada yada yada. Aubrey watched his mouth move. It was a good mouth, full lipped but not overly so, just the right amount of cushion. She didn't like kissing lipless men.

Good God. She really was drunk.

Meghan had a beer, dark and thick, Guinness, from the looks of it. She took a sip, and the foam gathered on her upper lip. "So you've just been sitting here, talking about the weather. Uh-huh. Chase, what do you do?"

Aubrey could have sworn a cloud passed across his face. "I write freelance. Articles. Boring stuff, computers mostly. It pays the bills." He launched into a funny a story about a jail-broken iPhone found on the L, and the tension passed.

They talked, and talked, and talked, Chase regaling them with stories, Meghan countering with some of her tall tales. Aubrey pretended she was an ordinary woman, out for an ordinary evening, with ordinary friends. She went along for the ride, enjoyed it even, until she looked at the clock and realized it was almost one in the morning. She was more than tipsy, and exhausted, and ready to go home. After Meghan's arrival, things had gone back to normal for her and Chase, just two people who found some common ground having a drink. Ships passing in the night.

She stood carefully. "Guys, this has been fun, but I really have to head out. That sixteen miles is catching up with me."

Meghan gave her a hug. "I'm staying. I don't need to open the store until noon tomorrow. Chase? Another?"

"Actually, Meghan, I have to go, too. I'm supposed to fly back to Chicago in the morning. Aubrey, why don't I walk you out?"

He met Aubrey's eyes. She stared back, willing herself not to get lost.

It all flashed before her, how the night was going to go.

They wouldn't speak. It was almost as if words would break the spell, and they both knew it. They'd just walk out of the bar and around the corner to the parking lot behind the coffee shop, not touching but very aware of each other. The drive would take less than five minutes. He would follow her into the kitchen, and when the door was closed and the alarm set, he would pull her into his arms.

And when his lips touched hers, she would know.

Josh.

The tenuous hold she had on her emotions would be broken. She'd accept his caresses and return them ravenously. They wouldn't even make it out of the kitchen.

Without breaking the kiss, he would simply lift her onto the counter, push her dress up and out of the way, slide off her panties, and sheath himself in one stroke. She would moan, deep in her throat, and he would answer her cry. It would be over too quickly.

They would move to the bedroom and do it all over again. And again.

She didn't know how much time had passed, whether a minute or an hour. Years would have gone by too quickly. She had missed him, so much. And now he had come home.

CHAPTER 10.

Daisy Today It was dark out, and Daisy was still on the back deck when Tom came home from work.

He took one look at her and sat in the matching Adirondack chair. He reached a hand out and touched her knee.

"What's wrong?"

Tom had a way of asking questions that Daisy didn't know how to answer: How are you? Are you all right? Do you still love me?

"The letter," she said, shrugged at the paper.

He picked it up and read, lips moving slightly as he sounded out the words. It was a tic that drove her mad sometimes.

He finished and set the paper in his lap. He didn't say anything, just looked out over the gardens. She waited. Tom would have some sort of platitude. Words meant to be comforting that she would hear as an indictment.

She looked away from his face and lit a cigarette. The pack was nearly empty. Did she have more in the refrigerator? Or was this the last one?

Five minutes passed. She felt rather than saw movement, risked a glance. Tom was crying, silently, tears rolling down his worn, lined face.

She didn't know what to do. She didn't know how to react. Josh wasn't Tom's son, not really, yet Tom had adopted him soon after their marriage began, had always loved him like his own, even when Josh was at his worst. She didn't like having to share her grief with her husband. It was hers, hers alone, a tight ball of perpetually sustained energy that kept her body animated, jerking along like a zombie from day to night to day again. An internal supernova that happened one thousand eight hundred and seventy-four days earlier. One thousand eight hundred and seventy-four, not one thousand eight hundred and seventy-five, because Aubrey hadn't told her right away.

Sometimes Daisy was happy about that. That she'd spent one last day in ignorant bliss, not knowing that her son was most likely dead.

And other days, days like today, she wanted to rip the little bitch's head off for not calling immediately. What in the hell had she been thinking? No, that wasn't the right question. What had Aubrey been doing?

Daisy knew exactly what. Killing her son.

Five Years Ago Daisy was in her car, taking a first drive in her much-coveted Mercedes CLK, the one Tom had surprised her with the night before. The day was sunny, blue skies, puffy white clouds. Flowers bloomed, and the heavy scent of honeysuckle gathered in her nose.

She was happy.

She'd been truly astonished last night when the car rolled into the driveway. She caught a glimpse of something in the front yard and glanced out the kitchen window. She knew immediately what was happening, rushed out the door. The car purred on the cracked concrete, dark and sleek, a midnight blue so deep it was nearly black, the halogen headlights ringed in . . .

"What's this? Tom, what have you done? It has eyelashes? My car has eyelashes?"

Tom laughed, and she could see he was thrilled at her overwhelming joy. Daisy was a hard woman to please-she knew this. Tom knew it as well, and spent much of his time thinking about ways he could make Daisy smile. Delivering the vehicle she'd dropped so many hints about loving was only one gesture in a long line of gestures.

But this one was worth something to her.

She rewarded him with some bedroom acrobatics that she wasn't sure she still had in her, but was happy to find she did. The car symbolized a new beginning. A fresh start for them.

But as she drove, imagining the simmering jealousy behind the admiring glances of her friends at the club, and enjoying every minute of being able to finally, finally, throw her bounty in their smug faces, her cell phone rang. The navigation display popped up with the number for her daughter-in-law. Tom had set up the Bluetooth in the car so all Daisy had to do was click a button on the steering wheel to answer.

Daisy's good mood slid away. To say she wasn't fond of the woman who shared her son's bed was an understatement. She'd never warmed up to the girl, thought she was trouble from day one. Like mother, like daughter. That day, so long ago, when Josh had taken her side, always rankled. Josh had always liked Aubrey, yes, but Daisy never imagined he'd marry the little brat.

What did they say-A daughter is a daughter for all of your life, a son was a son 'til he took him a wife? Even knowing her son would grow up and leave her eventually, that he'd chosen to do so with Aubrey Trenton was enough to send her blood pressure through the roof. Daisy relegated to second place by Marie Trenton's little girl, of all people?

It wasn't right-Daisy and Josh had been pals, best friends. She'd sacrificed everything for him. Created a new life with a man she didn't necessarily love in order to give her son stability, a good, solid, loving world to grow up in. And little orphan Aubrey stepped in and ruined everything.

She took a deep breath and answered.

"Yes?"

"Daisy?"

There were tears in Aubrey's voice, beneath the steel, which was surprising. The hard, sharp edge of the girl was all Daisy ever saw. Daisy supposed she couldn't blame her for needing to protect herself, after the hullabaloo, but when speaking to her family, she should adopt a more pleasant tone.

"What is it?"

"Daisy, you need to come over. Josh is missing."

Today The cigarette pack was empty.

Tom had stopped crying.

"Are you really going to contest?" he asked.

"The insurance payout? Of course. Josh and I had a deal: I cosign on the house, he makes me the beneficiary."

"We don't need the money."