Tell Me a Secret (The Story Series Book 4) Read Online Free Page A

it would be this tiring.
    From the moment Charlotte was born, I was hypervigilant, watching her tiny face. Checking to see if she was breathing. Looking into her diaper. Straining to hear if those were panicked cries or satisfied coos coming from her mouth.
    All of the things I’d reveled in prior to becoming a mother—cocktails on terraces at sunset, long hours of uninterrupted reading, twenty-minute showers—were no more. They were as elusive as sleep and sanity.
    And yet, I was hopelessly in love. Like nothing I’d ever experienced or thought possible. Charlotte’s milky smell, her toothless grins, and the way she grasped my fingers with her chubby hand were the outward signals of her love. The subtle signals were more elusive but infinitely more precious, like how she’d sigh against my breast as we rocked in the nursery. Or how I’d sing a song and she’d look at me with enormous blue eyes identical to her father’s.
    Those first exhausted weeks slipped into exhausted months. Everything seemed monumental, yet the details were tedious. I tried to breastfeed and failed, so I switched to formula. Which left me feeling like a bigger failure. Charlotte was colicky and cried often, at least those first few months.
    Caleb’s absence only magnified everything. I second-guessed myself constantly.
    What would Caleb do in this situation? I’d ask myself when Charlotte cried for her third hour. Or, I wish Caleb was here to see this , when our daughter, for the first time, beamed ear-to-ear as I waved a stuffed University of Florida gator in front of her face.
    And then, just as the sun was setting one spring evening, my phone rang. Seeing the name on the caller ID, I fumbled to answer it.
    “Detective Dos Santos, how are you?” I was breathless.
    “Mrs. King, we might have found an important clue in your husband’s case. It’s a wallet with only a business card from Orlando inside,” the Sao Paulo detective said in my ear.
    My heart nearly came to a stop.
    “Send me photos of both,” I pleaded to the detective. It had been found outside a Sao Paulo nightclub, behind a trash can, he added.
    Shaking, I secured Charlotte in her pack-and-play in the living room so I could wait for the email. The sterile, white condo living room had been overtaken with plush toys and colorful baby gear, making the entire space seem like a modernist kindergarten. I loved the vibrancy.
    My phone buzzed with the email’s arrival, and I tapped on the image of the business card first. It was a woman’s name, Ashley Cooley, and she was a public relations manager at Universal Studios theme park. I scowled. We didn’t know an Ashley, and I scanned my brain, trying to remember if Caleb had ever mentioned anyone at Universal. He knew so many people.
    I turned next to the wallet photos. Save for the business card, the wallet itself was empty, but from the photos I thought it looked like Caleb’s. The brand was stamped in small, letters on the inside of the billfold. I remembered the name of the designer—Delvaux—because he’d bought three identical ones at $500 apiece on one trip to Barneys in New York when we were together.
    Memories of the weekend washed over me. I sank into a black leather Eames lounge chair, my legs suddenly unable to hold my weight.
    It had been early in our relationship, and he’d whisked me north in a private jet. It was spring and the city was just coming alive with sunshine and flowering trees and carefree women with bare legs. We’d stayed at the luxurious Sherry-Netherland Hotel, and he’d brought me to Barneys and encouraged me to try on the most delicious, black babydoll dress with a lace trim collar.
    “It’s Saint Laurent. I can’t let you buy this for me,” I said, gaping at the high, four-figure price tag.
    “You can, and you will,” he’d said, then kissed me.
    Sitting in my living room, exhausted as hell, I could almost feel my husband’s warm, supple lips. I swooned a little and closed my