Page 40 of One Small Secret

Ruben has been mostly silent during my story. I’m not sure he’s looked me in the eyes once since finding out I lied to him about Axley. But his eyes flash to mine now. “Andrew has an eye for this kind of thing. If he says this story will sell, it will sell.”

I take a deep breath. “But why do we need a story? Won’t this all go away once you get back together with Daphne, or find some other woman to date?”

Andrew taps his pen on his yellow legal pad. “Palmer Hotels relies on Ruben keeping up his popularity. You must realize that.”

“But he doesn’t have to always have a story, does he?”

“This story is already out. What I need to know is how we're going to spin it. Everyone loves the hidden family idea. If you're willing to participate and the boy’s parents are willing, we can start now. We’ll be careful not to outright say you are his hidden family. But we won’t deny it either. People can make of it what they will. In the meantime, we’ll get more photos of the two of you together and let social media do its work. If, for any reason, the truth comes out later on, down the road, we’ll have deniability, since we never actually made a statement about it. No one is going to hate Ruben for treating someone else’s child like his own. They won’t hate you, either, for that matter.”

Holy crap. Andrew wants to use the same deception technique I did. Maybe I should have been a publicist. But I didn’t exactly love living my life that way, and I’m not about to sign up for more of it. “What if Daphne denies her friend’s story?”

“She won’t,” Ruben answers.

I turn to him, but he's still looking down at his untouched custard. “How do you know she won't? Spurned women do all sorts of things.”

Ruben eyes Ben, then says under his breath, “She won’t deny her friend’s story because there’s nothing to deny. Can we talk privately? Now, perhaps?”

“Fine,” I whisper back. “I’m not sure what you’ve been drinking, but her story is not true. You have not been hiding me and Axley for the past few years. I didn’t even know about Axley until two weeks ago.”

Ruben just smiles like I’ve said something perfectly normal to him, then asks everyone to excuse us.

I give Mom a look to make sure she'll watch Axley, but I needn’t have bothered. I realized there wasn’t a single person around that table who wouldn’t protect him now. Even Andrew, who I can’t imagine caring about anything other than getting his clients on the top trending charts, wouldn’t let anything happen to Axley. He's his ticket to the front page.

Something inside me relaxes. Ruben and I aren’t crazy enough to go through with Andrew’s messed up plan, but I don’t regret telling everyone what’s been going on. Even if I hadn’t been lying exactly, it’s a relief to have a roomful of people who know the truth.

Ruben pulls my chair out like I'm the main character in a romantic comedy, and I get up and follow him. He opens the double doors to the den and motions for me to walk in first. Ben’s house was always a favorite hang-out place for our friend group during high school. It’s not modern or luxurious like the hotels he builds, but the rooms are large and welcoming, and there’s room for a crowd.

The old sofas in the den have been replaced by one massive U-shaped sectional, and the carpet is new since I was here last, but most of the pictures are in the same place. A huge photograph of the lake dominates one wall, and the other holds a massive flat-screen TV.

Ruben motions for me to sit on one side of the sectional. I sink in and can’t help but think this would have been a much better place to fall asleep with him last night.

I rub my head. Was that really only last night?

He takes a spot nearby, just far enough away that our legs don’t touch. I run my hand along the cushions. “Next time we fall asleep on a couch together, let's make it this one. It’s so much more comfortable than mine.”

Ruben smiles, and for the first time in what feels like ages, he locks eyes with me. “I don't know if you’ve seen the pictures, but you looked quite comfortable.”

I punch him softly in the arm and he pretends to be injured. I snort. “I didn’t hurt you. You're such a faker.”

“I am.” Ruben rubs the spot on his arm, not like it's sore, but absentmindedly. “But I’m tired of it. I’m so sick of pretending. I want to be done with all of it.”

“Oh, good. I don’t want to pretend, either. Andrew’s idea is bonkers.”

Ruben stares forward. “That’s not what I meant. And if you hate the idea, I really don’t want you to do it. In fact, I’m not sure why we're even talking about this. I can find something else to keep the media talking. Maybe I can find a family of five somewhere who wants a fake father.”

“I hear Australia is a good place to look.”

I expect him to laugh, but instead he just nods and stands up, like our conversation is over. I pull him back down. “Somehow I don’t think that would go over quite as well, now that you’ve already done it once.” His hand goes back to rubbing his arm again. I barely touched him. I want to take his hand in mine to stop him, but I resist the urge. “Tell me what you mean.”

He takes a deep breath. “I mean Daphne. And not just Daphne. Rachel, Acacia, Amira . . . all of them.” He stops rubbing his arm and looks me in the eye. “The reason Daphne won’t deny her friend’s story is because it’s true. We had a business arrangement, nothing more. And I gained over five hundred thousand followers because of it.”

He doesn’t talk about the followers like he's excited. He just looks tired, and I’ve never been more confused in my life. “Why would you date Daphne for followers?”

Ruben sighs and leans back into the sectional, stretching his legs onto the ottoman in front of us. “Do you remember what year my history picture went viral?”

“Of course. Sophomore year. You were basically a nobody, and then suddenly everyone was fainting over you. Even Ms. Webb, and she was like sixty-five.”

“Do you remember anything else that happened that year?”

---