Page 54 of Sweet Nothings

Every single day since my parents died, Frederick has done nothing but put pressure on me. Thinking back on it, I’m not even certain he grieved the death of his brother and sister-in-law. At least not publicly.

I shake my head and bite my bottom lip. Tears well behind my eyes, and I’m unsure if the reason for them is from this conversation with my uncle, the stress of Roe’s cancer, Lennon’s distance over the past three days, or the sickness that has managed to knock me out both physically and mentally.

But my beaten down heart tells me it’s a combination of all four.

I look up at Fred. “I don’t think I can talk about this right now.”

“Okay.” He nods in understanding, pulling a newspaper from under his arm and slapping it on my desk. “I just wanted to let you know The Boston Globe has published the news of your wedding this morning.”

With trepidation, I pick it up and read the headline.

A SECRET LOVE, A SECRET WEDDING

BOSTON ELITES LENNON HARDING AND LAUREL BRANFORD TIE THE KNOT IN UNDISCLOSED INTIMATE WEDDING

Below the headline is a picture of Lennon and me kissing. The only kiss we shared that day in public. The one right after we said, ‘I do’.

We look happy and in love. It’s strange seeing us from this perspective when I’m the one who lived it. Lennon’s hand is wrapped around the side of my face, pulling me close. His head is tilted as he presses his lips firmly to mine, like he won’t be able to breathe if he pulled away. We look like a couple who’ve been together for years.

In the bottom corner of the photograph is our photographer’s name. It’s no surprise finding the story of mine and Lennon’s wedding in the paper. It’s always been part of the plan. At the urging of Lennon’s attorney, Perry, and my uncle, we all agreed publicity was for the best.

Lennon’s marriage would show stability and strength for his family’s company. Even though the public isn’t aware of the stipulations placed on his inheritance, they knew the story of his marriage to me would quieten the speculation around the future of the company, considering Lennon’s reputation. It appears I wasn’t alone in thinking Lennon was like his father when it came to relationships.

As for me, Frederick couldn’t wait for the announcement. He was more than convinced my marriage to a Harding wouldincrease our public image. I guess after today only time will tell if my fake marriage has bettered our reputation.

Looking at mine and Lennon’s kiss at the altar has my heart twisting in ways I didn’t know it could. I’ve fallen for my husband, and I’ve fallen hard. But have I fallen harder than him? Judging by the photo on the front page of the Boston Globe, I would say I haven’t. But pictures can be deceiving. I want to believe everything Lennon said and did the other night, but it’s difficult when he’s hot one second, cold the next.

I hand the newspaper back to Fred, but he waves his finger and points at my desk. His lip curls in disgust. “You can keep it. I can find another copy.”

“Thanks, I guess.” Reaching for a tissue from the box on my desk, I blow my nose and wipe it before tossing it into the trash.

“Before I go, I meant to ask you. Has Monroe said anything to you about what’s going on with her lately?”

My stomach drops. Roe asked me not to tell Fred. I’ve respected her wishes, but I can feel the blood draining from my face at the prospect of where this conversation is headed. I’m not prepared to handle the conversation if Fred tells me he knows or if he guesses.

“What do you mean?” I cautiously ask.

“I don’t know.” He shrugs his large shoulders. “She’s been quiet lately, and it’s very unlike her, if you know what I mean.”

“I do.” I give him a small smile.

“I was just curious if maybe her and Steven were going through anything, or if it might have to do with her work at the museum.”

I frown, shaking my head. “Not that I’m aware of.”

“Okay.” his eyes wander in thought before swinging back to me. “Well, if you see her, let her know I’m worried about her.” He begins walking out of my office but stops in the doorway.“On second thought, maybe don’t see her until you’re better. You might be contagious.”

My heart sinks into my stomach. Frederick leaves my office, and I’m quick to grab my phone. Panic settles in, overriding all the pain I’ve felt since waking up. I scramble picking up my phone, nearly dropping it as I call Roe.

She picks up on the first ring. “Hey, sis.”

“Roe,” I croak, clearing my throat. I swallow my breath and shove aside the pain.

“Are you okay? You sound sick.”

“I am sick,” I blurt out. “And I just realized what that could mean. I don’t know how or when I got it, but I’m worried I might have passed it on to you. You aren’t feeling sick, too, are you? Sore throat? Stuffy nose? Feeling like your head might explode?”

My pulse quickens. If Roe is sick, it could lead to any number of complications. It might compromise her chemo schedule and even her surgery. Her immune system can’t be put at any more risk, and the guilt I would have for being the one to give it to her would shatter me.

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