Page 52 of A Secret Escape

“I know. I remember that time.”

“But the public—” Nicole’s eyes filled, and she blinked rapidly. “I was hungry to be loved, and they loved me. And it was easier to bathe in the approval of an amorphous crowd than to try to seek the approval of one person. I felt special. I felt good about myself for the first time ever.” She took another sip of water. “It’s embarrassing to admit that.”

This felt like the conversations they used to have when they were growing up. They’d never been afraid to bare their feelings.

“Why is it embarrassing?”

“Because it was no more real than those social media posts you were looking at. All the attention I’ve been given in my life—it’s an illusion. Smoke and mirrors. The biggest deception of all.” Nicole put the glass down. “For a short time I thought what I had with Justin was real. I thought he loved me.”

And the betrayal would have hurt all the more for that. Milly could understand that.

“Are you sure he didn’t?”

Nicole shrugged. “In the end he loved his career and his image more. Did he use me to raise his profile? I don’t know, but that’s what happened. I can’t believe I actually suggested that we both just walk away from it all, buy a plot of land and grow vegetables.”

Milly tried to picture it, and doing so made her smile. “Do you know anything about growing vegetables?”

“No, but I thought it would be fun to learn. Particularly if we were doing it together.”

Together. And that was what this was of course: Nicole’s attempt to create something that resembled a family.

Imagining her excitement and then her devastation wiped the smile from Milly’s face.

“I assume he didn’t grab the chance.”

“No. Probably a good thing, because we both know I wouldn’t have known how to cook the vegetables even if I’d grown them.” Nicole shrugged. “Anyway, that’s my sorry story. And this is a heavy conversation to have in the middle of the day.”

In the past they would have talked about whatever they wanted to talk about, whenever it felt right to do so. They wouldn’t have cared what time of day it was.

Milly felt a pang of nostalgia. “It’s a heavy conversation for someone who hasn’t had lunch and probably didn’t eat breakfast. And don’t tell me you never eat breakfast, because you’re pregnant now, so things have to change.” Suddenly she felt protective. “That baby needs you to eat something.”

Nicole raised an eyebrow. “Are you mothering me?”

Someone needs to.

“I’m not mothering you as much as caring for you and encouraging you to care for yourself.” Milly grabbed salad items from the fridge. “You’re going to have a slice of mushroom and leek tart, with a large salad. You can help make the salad.”

And she intended to take some of the food to Brendan Scott. In case he was hungry. Because it was her job to care for her guests, and he didn’t seem to consider nutrition when he was busy writing.

Not for any other reason.

Nicole looked at her doubtfully. “If cooking is what it takes to be a good mother, I’m doomed.”

“Anyone can make a salad.” Milly checked the tart and adjusted the oven temperature. “And you’re not doomed. You’re going to be an amazing mother.”

“You don’t know that.” Nicole rinsed salad leaves. “It’s not as if I had a great role model. I’m scared I’m like my mother. What if I’ve inherited her inability to connect with my child?” She tipped the leaves into the bowl. “I’m her daughter after all. I have her genes.”

Milly saw the doubt and fear in her friend’s eyes and felt a rush of compassion because she understood where the insecurity came from. “You are not your mother.”

“I know, but—” Nicole looked at her helplessly. “He told me I’d make a terrible mother, and I can’t help wondering if he’s right. I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Who told you that?” Milly was appalled. “Justin?”

She didn’t know the man, but she was starting to form an impression, and it wasn’t good.

“He said I’m selfish and that my lifestyle just isn’t compatible with having a child.”

The heat inside her, newly calmed, blazed to life again.

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