Page 89 of The Candlemaker

But why hesitate to stay for one last kinky fuck? Especially when there were no more strings attached.

I’d been angry for weeks. Hardly spoke to my sister or Kit. But in the end, when I finished Chandler’s candle and let it burn, I realized my anger was misguided. It was her offer—hers to increase or rescind or change at will.

It was his choice to take the money and run.

And now, the prick of fury I felt was only at myself for wanting things to be different.For believing Chandler that night when he made it seem like he wanted more.

Like he wanted me.

“I’m fine.” I started to smile, my stomach turning at that moment just to prove me a liar. I grabbed theChandleron my desk and took a deep breath.

“That fine?” she murmured, her eyes probing.

I pressed my lips together. My twin had changed. Since she’d become the owner of the Lamplight Inn, there was a confidence that glowed from inside her that hadn’t been as strong or as obvious before. There was more responsibility. More decisions to be made.Higher stakes.And I watched my sister’s fortitude slowly but surely evolve and unfurl out of her former reserved cocoon.

It was a beautiful thing, but only until it was aimed at me.

“They say it shouldn’t last much longer.” Though I’d read plenty of accounts online of women who had morning sickness for the entire duration of their pregnancy.

“And how long is the secret going to last?”

My eyes darted to hers and then returned to the invoices I’d pretended to be examining. She didn’t say anything, just stood there, elbows propped on the counter, chin resting on her hands, and her gaze steady behind her glasses.

After a few seconds, I couldn’t take the silence any longer. “I don’t know, Lou,” I admitted painfully. “I don’t know.”

This wasn’t part of my plan. Not him. Not my feelings. Not the baby. None of it. And maybe all my pranks and schemes over the years were wild and reckless and immature and careless…but they were all plans. Underneath all the chaos, there was a path to follow.

And suddenly, I didn’t have one. I was adrift. Buoyed by the support of the strong women in my family, but still afloat on my own and wondering how I wanted to anchor my story.

Lou picked up the candle on my desk.My safety net.“Are you going to tell him?”

Him.

She never brought up his name like I’d made her promise, but that didn’t stop her from asking. And she was the only one who asked.

From the night I told her to now, only Lou reminded me that I couldn’t run from this. That I couldn’t keep hiding in my shop, making candles, for nine months. I had to create a new plan.

Did I tell him?Yes, I should; it was his baby, after all. No, I couldn’t; he would think I expected something from him, and the last thing I wanted was his obligation.

“I don’t know, Lou. I really don’t.” Some days, I woke up having to re-convince myself that this was reality.

The first ultrasound photo helped with that. So did the nausea.

“You said after twelve weeks…”

An invisible checkpoint was what that was. An extension that I thought would buy me time. Instead, it passed by in what felt like a blink of an eye.

“I know.” I sighed. “I just…ugh.” I walked to the back, my fingers pressed to my lips, hoping she didn’t follow.

Old Lou wouldn’t, but this new Lou…

“I didn’t expect more. I told him I didn’t expect more.”Except for those few moments where I begged for it. But that was passion, not rational thinking.“The last thing I want is a man in my life for the wrong reasons.”

Lou adjusted her glasses and started to chew on her bottom lip.

“What is it?” I went to her.

“I’m sorry, Frankie.”

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