Page 31 of Summer Showdown
Wade glanced up, spotting me. The smile that transformed his face sent warmth cascading through me despite my anxiety. "There you are," he called, waving me over. "I was beginning to think you'd gotten lost."
"Sorry I'm late," I said, forcing brightness into my tone. "The errand took longer than expected."
His eyes moved over my face, concern gathering in their depths. "Everything okay?"
"Fine," I lied, the word catching slightly in my throat. "Just some work details to handle."
Wade nodded, though the set of his jaw betrayed his doubts. "Well, you're here now. Ready to show these amateurs how it's done?"
"Ha, as ready as I'll ever be," I replied, grateful for the shift in focus.
As we prepared our kayak, positioning it near the water's edge, Bailey's advice echoed: be honest with the people who matter.
"Wade," I began, my voice lower than intended, "there's something I need to tell you."
He straightened from adjusting our vests, giving me his full attention. "What's up?"
The words I'd planned scattered, leaving me grasping for where to begin. "My grandmother—my mom’s mom—was abandoned by my grandfather when she was pregnant," I blurted, surprising us both with this unexpected opening.
Wade blinked, momentarily thrown by the abrupt personal revelation. "I'm sorry," he said, his brow furrowing with genuine concern. "That must have been incredibly hard for her—and your mother."
Once I'd started, the words spilled out like water through a broken dam. "She raised my mother alone, taught her never to depend on anyone. Taught me that ‘perfection means protection.’"
He tilted his head slightly, his gaze softening as the pieces clicked into place—connecting the abandoned child of my past to the woman keeping him at arm's length.
“Ah,” he said, “so that’s what’s been driving you.”
I studied the pebbles at my feet rather than meeting his gaze. "Vulnerability has always felt like weakness to me. Something to be avoided at all costs."
Wade moved closer, his fingers gentle under my chin as he tilted my face up. "Thank you for trusting me with that," he said softly. "For what it's worth, I think opening up takes more courage than keeping everyone out. And I’m beginning to see—now more than ever—than connection is worth the risk."
His kindness was almost more than I could bear. Here he was, offering understanding and acceptance, while I was still withholding the most crucial part—that I might have to leave and couldn’t say with any certainty when—or even if—I’d be back.
The announcer's voice boomed across the lake, calling all participants to their kayaks. Wade gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. "We'll talk more after the race, okay?"
"Wait," I said, the word escaping before I could reconsider. "There's something else."
He paused, turning back with a questioning look.
"I—" I swallowed hard against the tightness in my throat. "I might need to return to Chicago soon. They want me by tomorrow, actually."
Wade froze mid-motion, as if someone had pressed pause. His features cycled through emotions like time-lapse photography—eyebrows lifting in surprise, forehead creasing in confusion, and finally his jaw clenching as he mastered the hurt that flashed across his face. "Tomorrow?" he repeated, his voice deceptively calm. "When were you planning to tell me this?"
"I just found out this morning when I read my email," I explained hastily. "There's an emergency board meeting about the situation at my firm. If I don't attend, I could lose everything I've worked for."
Wade's expression hardened, his eyes no longer holding that warm light I'd grown accustomed to seeing. "When were you planning to tell me? After the regatta? After Theodore and Edna's wedding? Or were you just going to disappear like none of this meant anything?"
The accusation stung because it wasn't entirely unfair. I'd spent the morning wrestling with how to broach the subject, rehearsing explanations that wouldn't sound like abandonment. But hearing it spoken aloud made me realize there was no painless way to say it.
"I was trying to figure out the right time," I admitted, my voice smaller than I intended. "This isn't just about us, Wade.There are people counting on me to be there. My entire career could be over if I don't defend myself."
He ran a hand through his hair, the muscles in his jaw working. "I get that. I do. But we—" he gestured between us, "—we spent last night together. That meant something to me. I thought it meant something to you too."
"It did," I insisted, reaching for his arm. He didn't pull away, but I could feel the tension beneath my fingers. "That's why this is so difficult. I didn't expect any of this to happen when I came to Wintervale."
A humorless laugh escaped him. "Neither did I. I thought this whole arrangement would be simple—help the festival, get publicity for the water safety program, everybody wins. I didn't count on actually caring about you."
The painful honesty in his voice made my chest ache. For someone who'd built a career on strategic negotiation, I felt woefully unprepared for this conversation.
