Free Broken Dreams by Rissa Blakeley Page B

for what was supposed to be our wedding night.
    “I will just start from the beginning.”
    “The beginning? How about you drop the fake accent.”
    Henry stared at me in stunned silence. “Bloody hell. I knew you heard me.” I think he meant to say that to himself, but he said it out loud. “Okay. I’m not American.” And there it was! He said it in the same accent as when he was all angry-shouty on the phone.
    “Yeah, I think I figured that one out myself. Just call me Sherlock- Fucking -Holmes.” Claire’s jaw had hit the floor.
    “Please, Elaina, let me explain.” A heavy sigh exited his body. “I just want to start by saying how much I love you. And that is real. That’s not fake, in any way, no matter what you think.” I rolled my eyes as he took another deep breath. “My name is Liam Henry Daniels so I didn’t lie about that. If you want, I can show you proper paperwork to support that.” I laughed so hard that I snorted. Claire still sat there, jaw to the floor.
    “Now…Liam, is it?”
    “Henry. Please, just call me Henry. I don’t go by Liam.”
    “Okay, whatever. Anyway, obviously you are hiding something fucking enormous so I would say that it would be easy for you to just, let’s say, produce fake paperwork.”
    Henry shook his head. “Please, just listen.” He held up his hand. I sighed and finished cleaning up Claire. “I’m from England.”
    “Hello? Remember me?” I pointed at myself. “Sherlock- Fucking -Holmes,” I said in an annoyed tone. “Chalk one up for me because I have this phenomenal skill of placing people in the proper geographical locations based on their accents alone.”
    “Damn it, Elaina! Please, this is urgent and I need you to listen. We are all in trouble here! I’m trying to be honest so shut it for a few minutes.”
    He won that one, but next time... “Okay, fine.” I started to bite my lip, trying to prevent another outburst with the utmost maturity, of course.
    “I’ve been living in the States with Harold and Margaret, who are also undercover. I don’t have time to get into all that right now. It’s far too complicated. We will talk about that at a later point.”
    I threw my hands up in the air. It never occurred to me that Harold and Margaret weren’t Henry’s parents. They always called him “my boy”. I never would have thought to question it because they seemed to have a very loving relationship. I would have never guessed that they weren’t a family.
    I remember the first time I met them.

    -March 2013-

    Margaret had called Henry one weekend afternoon, while we were still lying in bed, recovering from yet another exhilarating sex marathon. She hadn’t heard from him in a while, and she was just checking on him.
    She invited him over for dinner that night. He looked at me. I nodded, and he happily accepted her request. He asked if he could bring a date. She was beyond ecstatic since she had never met any of his girlfriends before.
    “Just to forewarn you… She is a bit overzealous.” He sounded worried and unenthused.
    “It’ll be fine.” I smiled at him as I got up and sauntered my naked butt to the shower. He leaped out of bed and chased right behind me.
    After a round of some shower fun, we left the house and pulled up to their quaint home on the outskirts of town. It was cute and neat as a pin. Perfect landscaping, as well. My mother would have swooned over all the colorful flowers and the perfectly manicured bushes.
    As soon as Henry shut off the truck, Margaret and Harold burst out of the house.
    “My boy! How have you been?” Margaret embraced him in a crushing hug. Henry had about a foot or so on her and I would estimate near one hundred pounds, as well. She had the typical older mom wardrobe: collared shirt, and pants that looked like a flood was coming in. Her hair and her make-up were perfection, just like her landscaping.
    Harold shook Henry’s hand instead of embracing him, and smiled with pride. He was the same