A young woman struggles in the modern world when she has to finish university, handle life and take care of her six-year-old son. It certainly doesn't help her situation when she's got things barely figured out. Madilyn Adair is known for being driv...
A/N: We moved up to #79! You guys are bloody fantastic. We've got four chapters and an epilogue left after this one. Who is ready? Happy reading! :)
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After I had put Riley into bed I made myself comfortable on my own bed I waited for Bruce to come out of the bathroom. I made sure to lock the door—I wasn't certain why I did this but a part of me couldn't help but expect the worst from this talk that we were about to have.
He exited the bathroom in a plain blue t-shirt and pyjama bottoms, wiping his black hair with a towel. Setting the towel on a nearby chair he made his way to the bed before clambering in and looking sideways at me. "Are you thinking about which of the million ways your mind conjured up to kill me?" he asked, his body holding tension as his hands took mine but his smile was light and humorous.
I couldn't help but smile. "I've come down to three," I said, titling my head. "How did you know?"
"You locked the door," he replied, leaning in closer and nipping my lips with his. I breathed hard, closing my eyes and wanting to freeze this moment. Nothing was perfect but everything was good—in this moment we could ignore the past and the future. We could simply kiss each other senseless.
"I found out last October," he admitted and his confession made my eyes spring open. He pulled back slightly, still keeping my hands within his grip. "I didn't know that my step-mother wasn't my biological mother. My father never told me that my mother was my step-mother. I was infuriated when I found out. The way I found out aggravated me. I found out through a letter, from my biological mother."
"Oh, Bruce," I cooed, rubbing my hands up his forearms as he let go of them from his hold.
"The letter told me everything about my true identity. I had a mother that I never knew of and she was forced by circumstances to give me up and let my father take care of me. I could never imagine what she had gone through, what that sacrifice felt like to her. A few days after I got that letter and read it I never answered my father's calls or my mother's calls. Step-mother that is. It's still weird knowing that she is my step-mum. But that doesn't change the fact that she's actually my true mother—she was the woman who took care of me, brought me up and she loved me like I was her own. She couldn't have children and was beyond happy that she had me. She told me this after I finally gave into their calls and confronted them about the letter."
He laughed, but it was dry and didn't entirely hold any humour in it. I frowned, trying to keep myself together for him and I rubbed his arms, before I hugged his arm, placing a kiss on his shoulder.
"I was so angry," he continued, his voice solemn. "How could my family hide this from me? It took only a few days for me to calm down and after talking with my dad extensively, I decided that I should go visit my biological mother after a few more days of ignoring the letter."
