Page 90 of Open Secrets
She laughs, that quick, sweet laugh I’ll never get tired of. “So are you, Captain Connelly.”
I kiss her, lingering just long enough to taste the faint coffee on her lips. Pulling back, I murmur, “Ready to go?”
She nods. Together, we lock up, and I lead her toward my car. She starts to head for hers, but I shake my head. “Leave it. I’ll drop you tomorrow.”
“It’s the opposite direction,” she points out.
I shrug. “I love driving with you.”
Her smile widens as she slips into the passenger seat.
We pull out of the lot in comfortable silence—until, of course, traffic slams us to a crawl. I roll my eyes. “Would’ve been quicker if I gave you a piggyback ride.”
Maria doesn’t respond.
I nudge her hand, squeezing gently. “Hey.”
She looks over.
“What?”
“Everything okay?”
She nods quickly. “Yeah, yeah. Of course.”
“Did something happen?” I press. “I mean… something other than, you know.”
Her shoulders rise and fall. “No. I just… left after I suggested she leave.”
“Okay,” I say slowly. “So what’s wrong?”
Maria twists her fingers in her lap, staring out the window. “It’s that she’s the opposite of me.”
I glance at her, puzzled. “What do you mean?”
Her voice is quiet, almost reluctant. “We’re the same age. Both women. But that’s where it ends. She’s tall where I’m short. Blonde where I’m brunette. And it was like… you found someone so not me.”
I grip the steering wheel tighter, knuckles aching.
“I…” The words scrape out of my throat, useless.
Maria’s eyes stay fixed on the window, her reflection blurred in the glass. “I’m still hurt,” she admits, voice steady even as it breaks me in half. “About her. About the relationship. I tried not to be, and I know I said I wouldn’t be. But we agreed—no relationships. And you went and had one. Not a traditional one, maybe, but still one.”
She finally turns to me, and it’s worse than being yelled at. Her face is calm, but her eyes… her eyes look like they’re holding back tears.
“I just don’t understand why.”
I swallow hard. My mouth opens, closes. I can’t give her the first answer that comes to mind—cowardice, loneliness, stupidity. She deserves more than that.
“I don’t know if I can make you understand,” I say quietly, “but I can try.”
She doesn’t blink, doesn’t soften. “Did you have feelings for her?”
I shake my head as the car inches forward, headlights crawling in the jam ahead. “No. Not an ounce. Not once.”
Maria lets out a disbelieving laugh. “How? You slept with her multiple times. Out of choice. You can’t tell me there wasn’t something that kept you going back.”
“Convenience,” I say flatly, the word bitter on my tongue.
