Page 49 of Embracing Us

Chapter twenty-one

Linda

One week later…

Max paces up and down the reception area of the hotel. His nervous energy flowing from every pore. “I don’t like this,” he mutters as he walks, stopping every so often to scratch his head. I’m sitting on one of the sofas, holding Jackson and flicking through the celebrity magazine on my knee. “What if she becomes unwell? Or runs out of medication?”

“There will be a doctor on the ship,” I tell him for what must be the dozenth time. “This is her choice, not yours.” He glances up at me. His eyes are wide, the complex emotions swirling around his mind so clear I can almost see them.

“But I’ve only just found out the truth, and she’s leaving,” he hisses. “How could she hide this from me all these years, only to tell me and run.”

“Your parents are still your parents.”

“Not biologically.”

“No, but they raised you as theirs with Susan as your aunt. She explained all this to you again last night. Don’t let her leave here with bad feelings. You always knew she loved you. This information doesn’t change that.”

“As my aunt, not my mother.” He speaks sharply, still at sea with the revelations that came out only a matter of days ago. My heart strains for my husband; a more honest man I have never met. For him, finding out who he thought was his mother’s sister is actually his biological parent has knocked him sideways.

*

Two days after arriving back from Gibraltar, Susan had asked to speak with me privately. I’d met her in her apartment on a sunny morning, but she wasn’t sitting on her terrace sipping tea like I expected her to be. She was in her living room with the shutters down and a glass of wine in her hand. The expression on her face told me we were about to have a difficult conversation and deep down, I knew why.

“You implied something at the wedding,” she said, bluntly. Today was obviously not a day for kind greetings and skipping around topics of conversation.

“I did,” I agreed, not seeing any point in lying.

“You were correct in your assumption. I am Max’s biological mother.”

“Do you want to tell me what happened? Or just be there when you tell him?” She swallowed visibly, her eyes glazing over slightly with tears. “Susan, I will support you in this, but he deserves to know the truth and why this was kept from him.”

“Is it not obvious?” I shrugged, not wanting to offer her an easy way out from the admission, though I have my suspicions. Susan is a lot younger than she appears. There was a ten-year in age difference between her and her sister – her sibling who posed as Max’s mother. “I was barely eighteen when I fell pregnant. Max’s father was married.” My stomach falls with the fact. I had expected her to be a young mother, but not a child.

I quickly do the calculation in my head. Hell, she’s in her early fifties. For all I knew, Susan was younger than she appeared but was much younger than I ever suspected. She protected her age like the Holy Grail, and I never pushed to discover the truth. It was of no consequence to me.

“You’re disgusted with me.” Her voice broke with the words. A pained cry escaped from her lips.

“No,” I said, firmly, then moved to sit beside her. I took the glass from her trembling fingers and placed it on the side table. My hands grasped hers, attempting to calm the terror clearly enveloping her body.

She dropped her head and sobbed. I held on as tight as I could.

“You were practically a child,” I said, fiercely. “He took advantage of you.” Deliberately, I softened my tone before asking the next question. “Was it consensual?” She nodded. “Did you have a relationship, or was it a one-time thing?” Uncertainty fluttered in my chest at my continued enquiring, but she invited me here for a reason. I assume to act as a support when she tells Max. Gaining as much information as possible was imperative in case she clammed up during the vital conversation.

“We had sex once,” she said, still not looking in my direction. “But the flirtation before it went on for months. He was my swimming coach. Many early morning training sessions were spent in his company. He was in his mid-twenties, newly married with a baby on the way.” My face froze with the additional layer of shock. Fury exploded in my chest, irate for the woman in front of me who was used by an older man. Her concerned gaze returned to my face.

“But now you’ve confided to me, you know you have to tell Max. I can’t keep this from him if you change your mind,” I told her.

“I know,” she whispered, sadly. “That’s why I told you. He deserves to know the truth. This way, there is no going back.”

“Do you want me to go and get him?” I asked her, and she muttered something that sounded like agreement. “I’ll only be a moment. Stay here.” I’d risen and went off in search of my husband. He was in the social lounge, restocking the shelves for the day. Jackson was lying on his playmat behind the bar, gazing up at his father as he spoke to him.

“Hello, Beautiful,” he called, catching sight of me entering whilst he turned to pick up a few more bottles from the countertop.

“Max,” I said, and he paused, then turned completely to face me. “You need to come and speak to Susan.”

“Why?” he challenged, his eyebrows drawing together as he assessed my demeanour. “You look very serious, Beautiful. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” I assured him. “But Susan needs to speak to you now.” He placed the bottles back where he collected them from, then crouched down out of sight. When he reappeared, he was carrying our son in his arms. In a few long strides, he was around the side of the counter and walking towards me. Before he could ask any more questions, I turned and walked in the direction of the apartment.

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