Lucky Penny (33 page)

I didn’t doubt that Blake loved me. It wasn’t about that, but we
were
from different worlds now. For the last six years, Blake had lived without wanting for anything when I struggled to make ends meet every day. I kept telling myself it was only money. But was it? Blake belonged in that world—
her
world. It was his birthright.

“Penny? What happened?”

I looked up to find Blake standing in the doorway staring down at me with worry shining in his eyes. My feet carried me up the stairs as if they knew I needed to be close to him. He opened his arms, and I collapsed against him.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Blake murmured into my hair, and I clung to him.

“She-”

Blake tensed and then his hands moved up my arms and gripped me pushing me back. “What the fuck did she do?”

“She… she was waiting for me after work. She’s unstable, Blake. The things she was saying.” My voice cracked and the tears followed. Blake pulled me back to him and encased me in his arms.

“Shh, don’t cry. Please, don’t cry. Whatever she said, it isn’t true. Brittany isn’t used to things not going her way. You know me, Penny,
you
.”

Anger burned through me. I was angry with Brittany for planting the seed of doubt that what Blake and I shared was real. But, most of all, I was angry with myself for believing her. Because, as I stood wrapped in Blake’s arms, I felt his love. It extinguished all of my doubts and worries. It filled the cracks in my heart until I felt like I might burst.

Brittany had it wrong.

Blake and I might live in different worlds.

But we belonged together.

“I
s this really a good idea?” I asked Blake for the third time. He kept his eyes on the road and said, “It needs to be done. Once and for all.”

I leaned back against the leather seats. After spending the night wrapped in each other’s arms, Blake insisted we pay his uncle a visit. Brittany’s latest threat was the final straw—Blake had made his decision. My stomach disagreed, and with every mile that passed, I felt sure I would hurl.

“How you holding up over there?” Blake’s hand brushed my knee, and I half-smiled. “I’m okay.”

“After this, one way or another, we’ll be free, Penny. That’s all we ever wanted.”

He was right. Once upon a time in a yard in Lancaster, two teenagers hadn’t wished for expensive gifts or trips to the coast. They had wished to be free.

The neighborhood began to change. Modest family houses morphed into larger properties with long drives filled with expensive cars and preened lawns. Blake navigated his Prius with ease, a reminder that this was his home now. But when he drove to the end of a nice street and turned into a gated property, my eyes almost bugged out of my head. The Weston house was by far the biggest in the vicinity. I glanced down at myself. Blake had insisted I just wear what I felt comfortable in, but I’d decided on my knee-length pencil skirt, tights, a soft blue blouse, and my thick woolen coat. My hair hung loosely around my shoulders, curled out at the ends, and a light layer of makeup covered my face. It was more effort than I ever went to, and yet, I still felt inadequate.

“Stop.” Blake’s voice perforated my mental assessment of my outfit choice. “You look beautiful.”

The car rolled to a stop. Well-tended bushes flanked the driveway and opened out in a circular parking area that had a water fountain in the middle. Anthony’s Town Car was parked next to a silver Porsche Coupe.

“My aunt’s car,” Blake said noticing my line of sight. “Come on, let’s get this over with.” Some of the brokenness in his voice had gone overnight. He sounded more sure, determined to make his uncle see sense.

Blake exited the car and came around to the passenger side to help me out. As I slid out of the seat, a female voice called, “Blake, honey, how lovely to see you. We weren’t expecting you.”

I stepped out of the car and pressed myself slightly behind Blake. What I really wanted was for the ground to open up and swallow me whole, but the universe had never been on my side. I doubted it was about to start now.

“And who is this?” The lady’s voice didn’t sound annoyed so much as inquisitive, and I wondered if she wasn’t privy to knowing her husband’s way of dealing with unwanted problems.

“This, Aunt Miranda, is Penny Wilson.”

I smiled weakly. Miranda regarded me for a second, giving me a cursory once-over. I closed my eyes just for a second already feeling the scrutiny of these people. When I opened them again, Blake’s aunt was smiling directly at me. “It’s lovely to meet you, Penny.”

Taken aback by her warmth, I simply replied, “Thank you. It’s very nice to meet you too.”

Blake didn’t let go of my hand as we walked to the house where Miranda was standing. “Is he here?” Blake asked. His aunt nodded and turned for us to follow her inside.

If the outside was anything to be impressed about, the inside of the Weston’s home was stunning. I walked beside Blake in awe of the regal feel of the place. Soft, rich furnishings occupied the space, ornately framed photos covered the hallway walls, and everything just complemented everything else. Even the Christmas decorations matched to perfection. It was beautiful.

We stopped outside a door. Miranda knocked gently and pressed her ear to the wood. “Ant, we have guests.”

My heart started to pound, and I squeezed Blake’s hand for reassurance.

“Come in,” a voice said from the other side of the door.

Miranda opened the door and motioned for us to enter the room. She followed behind us and shut the door. Anthony Weston sat behind a large antique desk. He looked up and his eyes glowered, dropping to where Blake’s hand entwined with mine and all the air was sucked from the room.

I wanted to run—to get the hell out of there. My inner anxieties screamed at me to turn around and walk away. I wasn’t built for this kind of confrontation. Not when I was the issue. But Blake kept my hand planted firmly on his. He squeezed gently and said, “Uncle, we need to talk.”

Anthony Weston rose from his chair and stalked toward us. “I didn’t expect to see you here, Miss Wilson. I take it you told my nephew about our little conversation.” He honed in on our joined hands again, and I tensed.

“Uncle, don’t.”

“What is she talking about, Ant? You visited Penny? When?”

“Miranda, please stay out of this. This is between the three of us.”

“Oh no, you don’t, Anthony Matthew Weston. If this concerns Blake, it concerns me. I will not stand by and watch you drive him away.”

I suddenly felt as if I was missing a whole part of the story. Miranda was nothing like her husband; her eyes were warm and friendly, and she had welcomed me into her home with no questions asked. A stark contrast to her husband who looked ready to burst a blood vessel.

“Fine, fine. Maybe we should make ourselves comfortable.” He motioned to the leather sectional and armchair set in one corner of the room.

Blake led me to the couch, and I sat beside him trying to press myself as close to him as possible.

“Ant, will you please explain what is going on?”

Blake’s uncle sighed deeply as if he was carrying the weight of the world. “I paid Miss Wilson a visit recently, in hopes of putting an end to their little affair.”

“Affair?” Miranda gasped. It had me questioning who she thought I was. The girl holding onto her nephew as if he was her air.

“It would seem that Blake and Penny have been having liaisons.”

I cringed. He made it sound so seedy, as if we were meeting in beat-down motels to have illicit sex.

Blake slapped his hand down next to him. It collided with the weathered leather creating a squelching noise. “What Penny and I do is nobody’s business including yours.” He glared at his uncle. They were locked in some kind of standoff until Miranda cleared her throat and turned to the two of us.

“Blake, is it true? Are you seeing Penny?”

He nodded never taking his eyes off Anthony.

“And does Brittany know?”

“She does now.” Blake broke his connection with his uncle and turned to face his aunt. “I love Penny. It’s always been her. Ever since you took me away from Lancaster.”

“I knew this would happen, Ant. You pushed him too hard, forced him to sever all ties. I’ve read about it. How in group homes children can form unbreakable bonds. We should have considered what it would do to him.”

Anthony scoffed at his wife and said, “Don’t start quoting that nonsense you read, dear. We did what was best for
our
nephew. We have given him everything. Everything and this is the repayment we get.”

“Repayment?” Blake spat. “I didn’t ask for you to come swooping in. I didn’t ask for you to rip me away from the only family I’d known in a long time. But
I
didn’t get a say. I was just expected to fit into your life, consequences be damned.”

Miranda held her heads in her hands, Anthony sat motionlessly, and I sat there stunned. Blake’s issues with his uncle ran much deeper than I could have imagined.

“I did it to protect you, Blake. To give you a life like the one your mother never had. You have the world at your feet and still it isn’t enough.”

“Penny, would you like to come with me?” Miranda said catching me off guard, and although I didn’t want to leave Blake, I felt like an intruder on a very private moment.

“Yes, please.” I nodded turning to Blake. “I’ll be right outside, okay?” After squeezing his hand, I rose and followed Miranda out of the room.

“Can I get you some coffee, Penny? Or wine? I have a bottle of Chardonnay somewhere around here.”

I glanced back at the hallway hoping I did the right thing by leaving Blake to hash things out with his uncle. A soft hand came to rest on my arm, which I had wrapped around my waist. “They’ll be fine, dear. They need this. It’s been a long time coming.”

“I’m fine, thank you,” I said offering Miranda a slight smile.

“So, tell me, dear, what is it that you do?”

I joined her at the table. “I work for a catering agency. Galas, banquets, business lunches, that kind of thing.”

“Long hours, I imagine?” Miranda regarded me. I’d caught her doing that a lot since we arrived. I imagined she was weighing me up, trying to work out what someone like me could possibly want with someone like Blake. But then, out of the blue, she said, “Is it silly of me to be jealous of you for knowing Blake when he was just a child?”

“I, hmm, I don’t really know how to respond to that.”

“Excuse me, losing my tongue like that. It’s just… you have this bond with him. I saw it the second you stepped out of the car. I’ve wanted nothing more than to know him in that way, but when Blake first came to us, he was angry and bitter. If I’m being quite honest, he was quite the handful.”

I smiled wistfully, imagining the sixteen-year-old Blake with his messy appearance and teenage boy attitude.

“What was he like when you first met him? He must have been what, twelve?”

I nodded. “He was adorable. He wore his chucks constantly untied and his hair was longer, messy, always hanging over his eyes. But he had this goofy smile that, no matter what, made you feel better.”

When I met Miranda’s eyes, I was shocked to see hers laced with tears. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Miranda reached across the table took my hand in hers. She smiled. “These are tears of joy, dear. When we found out that Blake was in foster care, I was sick with worry. You hear horror stories, reports of bad outcomes for children who age out of the system. But now, I can see that he wasn’t alone. He had you, Penny. You saved him.”

And he saved me.

For the next thirty minutes, I humored Blake’s aunt, answering questions and trying to fill in the blanks to paint a picture of teenage Blake for her. By the time the footsteps sounded in the hallway, Miranda had tears streaming from her eyes.

“Thank you,” she said in a hushed voice. “And please know that I support Blake’s choice one-hundred percent. I know he never loved Brittany. I had hoped, that with time, he would open himself up to the idea, but he never got over losing you, Penny, and for that, I can only apologize. Ant may be misguided at times, but he really does have Blake’s best interests at heart. He just has a funny way of showing it.”