Page 47 of Open Secrets
The relief drains away. His head jerks up, eyes wide, almost boyish in their disbelief. “What?”
“I just can’t…” My voice cracks, spilling raw. “I can’t do this alone anymore. Life. Raising the kids, the house, the practice—holding it all together while you’re gone. I’m so tired, Lyle. So tired.”
He draws in a slow, heavy breath, chest rising like he’s carrying the weight of the world. His eyes lock on me. “What do you want from me?”
The question slices me open. “I need you home,” I whisper, the words trembling. “I need you to stay, instead of jetting off to—”
“To work,” he cuts in, sharp, bitter.
My throat tightens. I swipe at my eyes and blurt, “Either do that—or be okay with me going out with other men.”
It’s supposed to be a jab. Something reckless. Something I don’t mean.
But his answer comes quiet, steady. “Okay.”
I blink, frozen. My heart stutters, drops. “What?”
His jaw works, the muscle flexing as he looks away. “If what you need to be happy is… an open marriage, then fine.”
My chest caves in, splintering under the words. “So, you’re okay with me seeing other men?”
He nods once. “I guess I understand. It can’t be easy being alone for a year at a time. Lord knows it’s not for me.”
The air thickens, heavy and choking. My voice comes out small, broken. “So, you’d also…?”
“That’s how an open marriage works,” he says evenly. Then his eyes meet mine. “Do you want that?”
I stare at the man I love, searching his face for a crack, for anger, for anything human that matches the shattering inside me. But all I see is that soldier-calm, that mask he’s worn for years. My shoulders sag. “I guess.” The word feels like ash.
He nods, like this is logistics now. Orders. “Then we need rules. Always use protection. No one we know. It can’t be a relationship—no feelings. And never when we’re together.”
A bitter laugh tears out of me, jagged, humourless. “You sound like you’ve thought about this.”
His gaze drops, shame flickering across his features. “Remember Conner? From high school?”
“Yeah.” My voice is tight.
He swallows. “We still talk sometimes. He and Bellamy… they just opened their relationship.”
The floor seems to tilt under me.
The last time I spoke to Bellamy she said she was going to leave Conner because of his philandering. Guess he changed her mind and Lyle’s.
“Right.”
Chapter Fifteen
Lyle — Present
“So, you never wanted this.” My voice comes out hoarse, like glass scraping my throat.
She shrugs. A tiny, careless shrug that lands harder than a thrown brick.
“Don’t do that.” I shove off the bed and drop into the chair by the window, needing space, needing air. My hand drags down my face. “Don’t shrug it off like it’s nothing.”
The silence presses in, loud as artillery. I stare at the blinds, at the bar of light cutting the carpet. “I mean — I get why the whole Sascha mess happened. But…” My jaw locks. Words grind like gears. “How the hell did it end with us opening our marriage?”
Maria folds into herself on the bed, chin on her knees. “I told you to quit. Or else. You chose else.”
