All's Fair in Love and Las Vegas

Chapter Sixty-Three

        "How awful," I said, my heart aching for the little boy who had realized such an awful thing about his own mom.

        He leaned back against the headboard, a distant look in his eyes. "I remember when she announced that she was pregnant with Clay," he whispered. "At first I was so jealous. I thought a baby would take her away, that I wouldn't be her little angel anymore. But when he was born, it was like he was the annoying nephew she had to babysit occasionally. She never did stuff with him. Feeding him, changing his diaper, that was all for the maids. I was seven, and that was too old to be cute anymore. She lost interest in me. But Clay had it so much worse–he was abandoned almost immediately. Dad was too busy to see much of either of us, but at least he made an effort. He's Clay's idol. Maybe Clay doesn't want to run the company, but he's always looking to hang out with dad, to make sure he does things like he does. He even irons his own suits, because dad always said that a man doesn't trust just anyone with his suits."

        Clay...how had Clay managed to keep his head afloat all these years? The guy I knew, the one dating my best friend, seemed like he would never have such a tragic childhood. He was so full of life and laughter. Unless that was how he handled it all, making even the worst of situations a good laugh or a bright smile.

        Grayson hugged his pillow a little tighter as he went on. "I took him in, y'know? As much as I could, anyways. We both lived at home, and the maids were such a help, but I made sure to play with him. I read him bedtime stories. I got him the coolest Christmas presents. That's why it crushed him when I went to boarding school. We wrote letters at least once a week. So when I went to Harvard, I didn't want to abandon him again. Instead of living in the dorms, I got a super cheap apartment. This tiny, dingy thing that had mold in the walls and no hot water. Clay loved it. It was our house. We moved when he was eleven, I was eighteen. I would go to school at the same time he did, then we'd come home, do homework, eat dinner, hang out, then go to bed. The rent took up all my allowance I'd saved over the years, but we made it."

        "Then what happened?" I asked when he paused.

        "I...I graduated," he whispered, closing his eyes and bowing his head. "That's when I realized she was serious about the whole marriage deal. That summer, gosh, I was a wreck. I must've gone on a hundred first dates. None of them worked. Too many girls looking to get rich quick. Clay, gosh, he was adorable, he tried setting me up with his English teacher. He knew how much it meant, that I could take over the business someday. So he was willing to try anything."

        I couldn't help but giggle. Now Grayson was smiling too, even as I asked, "So...why did it not work out?"

        "She was already married," he snickered. This sent me into such rapturous laughter that I had to stuff my face into my own pillow. 

        His smile faded as he kept talking. "So, single and with a kid brother, I had to make a choice. I moved back, so I could be dad's student. I offered to get an apartment that Clay could stay with me in, but he said that it was time he figured himself out and that I devote myself to the business. We stayed at her house-the mansion-for two years."

        Two years should've sounded short, but the way he said it made me think it had been twenty years. He even looked twenty years older.

        "It was horrible," Grayson said quietly. "She set me up on so many dates, girls that were from prestigious families or were models or were daughters of big businessmen. Every time, we would introduce ourselves knowing that it wouldn't go anywhere. Or if she liked me, I could tell she only wanted to marry me for a piece of the Answell fame and fortune. It became like a part-time job. Studying under dad, that was wonderful. I traveled with him, I went to meetings, I pretty much became his assistant."

        "And what about Clay?" I whispered, almost not wanting to know the answer.

        Grayson's face darkened. "He counted the days once. 841. He always says that he lost 841 days of his life to her. She tried controlling his every move. No friends, no nights out. Instead, she tried making him into me. Fancy clothes, fancy meals, meeting important people. I don't know how he did it. On his eighteenth birthday, we woke up and he was gone. He'd given me his address and phone number, but to her, he could've died and she wouldn't have known. For a while, she searched, but she didn't know where to look. She never would've guessed that he had a studio in Montreal. She didn't know him well enough. Then she decided he wasn't worth the trouble."

        My eyes watered. I wanted to jump on a plane, go to Clay's studio, and hug him so hard his ribs cracked. He hadn't deserved any of that; he'd just been born to the wrong family. What was worse was sitting next to Grayson, not knowing how he was still talking. How he'd been able to tell me so much of what was a horrible, dark secret.

        "I'm so sorry," I whispered.

        "None of it is your fault," he said, shaking his head.

        "Maybe not, but I certainly haven't made things better. And I wish...I wish you could've married someone you love that didn't want to be an Answell," I said. "You deserve that after being so abandoned your whole life."

        "Jackie, if anything, you've broken her curse," he said with a tiny smile. "I mean look at me, I'm going to take over for dad in less than a month and I didn't have to marry any of those first dates. This is really the best it could've come out for me. And my brother is happy where he is now, and I know Kylie plays some part in that."

        "Still. I feel like you deserve a thousand hugs," I murmured, leaning over to give him one.

        Grayson skipped a beat. "I mean...I wouldn't mind."

        "I hope someday you're happy," I said, not letting go. I didn't know if I would ever let go.

        "Jacks, I'm pretty happy right now," he said, kissing the top of my head. "You give good hugs, you made breakfast, I'm almost out of this nightmare. Christmas is three days away. Things are pretty good right now."

        "Yeah," I said, wishing things were better.

        He deserved better.