Page 31 of The Secret

Murray put his arm around my shoulders before I had a chance to correct her. “Thank you.”

“I suspect your baby is beautiful.”

She tried to shift around to see, but I’d placed the blanket over Bell like a hood to shield her from the wind, so her face wasn’t visible.

“Yes, she is,” replied Murray, and even though he was smiling back, I could tell he was beginning to get annoyed, his spare hand moving to protect Bell’s face as the lady peered in. I should have made more of an effort to get rid of her, except I was finding it hard to concentrate, still very aware of his arm over my shoulders, which was pulling me closer into him. “She’s sleeping right now.”

The lady’s smile held strong, in the way that made you wonder if her face was stuck. “So precious.”

“Next!” shouted the guy at the cart, forcing the woman to halt her continued efforts to have a glimpse of Bell.

Murray looked down at me, his eyes flaring wide open with amusement, and I hid my smile before she turned back around and caught me. My shoulders felt instantly cooler as he dropped his arm, while surprise replaced the amusement in his eyes. “Sorry, don’t know why I did that.”

We stepped into the second line as it became available and ordered two hot chocolates, waiting at the side for them to be made after Murray handed over some cash.

“Goodbye.” The old lady made one last failed attempt to see Bell, and we watched her walk off.

I burst into laughter. “Wow, I think you have a fan there.”

He shook his head in amusement. “No, Bell does.”

We took our drinks as they were placed on the side and found a nearby log to sit on, Murray checking on a still sleeping Bell, his long legs stretched out in front of him.

“The lady had a point though, she is beautiful.”

“Yes, she really is isn’t she?” His smile was so wide and genuine it made my heart swell.

“She looks like you, you know.”

“You think?” Surprise flashed across his face. “I can’t see it.”

“Definitely. She has your mouth and your eyes, long lashes like you…” I trailed off before it started to get weird that I’d reeled off a list of his flawless features without blinking - or that he noticed I could.

He sipped his hot chocolate, his pink tongue darting out to lick the foam from his lip. “Thank you.”

“What did her mom look like?”

His playful mood vanished instantly. His throat began working hard as his jaw tensed from his teeth grinding together, making me wish I’d kept my big mouth shut. We’d been getting on so well, and now I’d overstepped.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

His eyes met mine and I could see more than a little pain swimming around; pain and guilt. “You didn’t.” He took a deep breath. “Truth is, I don’t remember what she looked like, except that she was brunette. How shit is that? This tiny little thing I’ve known a week and a half, one who’s become the love of my life, and I can’t remember anything about where she came from, or how she was made. What kind of father is that? What am I going to do when she’s older and asks? This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen.”

His shoulders dropped in defeat, weighed down with the considerable worry he was carrying, as he rubbed his fingers over his temples. I fought all my impulses to hug him.

“You tell her that. That she’s the love of your life; that even though you hadn’t known about her existence until you met, you wouldn’t have it any other way, that her mom was fun and spirited and beautiful, because otherwise you wouldn’t have spent time together. And you don’t regret a single second, because you were chosen to be her daddy.”

He stayed silent, his gaze trained in the distance, with another one of those expressions I couldn’t read. When he finally looked up again his eyes found mine, flashing with so much emotion we may as well have been sitting by a furnace with the way my body heated. “Come on, let’s get back. Bell will wake up soon and she’ll need feeding.”

Forty-five minutes later we stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for his floor.

“Hold the door!” a voice called just before a man slinked between the closing gap. He noticed Murray, tipping his head to him. “Hey, man, how’re you doing?”

Then I forgot how to breathe. Holy fuckingactualshit.

Jackson Foggerty.

TheHollywood bad boy. Recipient of the most recent Best Actor Oscar. Sexiest Man Alive according to, off the top of my head, People, Vogue, Gucci, Patek Philippe, and the newest issue of the New York Times Magazine, where he was interviewed about his latest film.

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