Page 99 of Open Secrets
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Maria — Present
“Hey, babe,” I say softly, closing the bedroom door behind me. “Sorry I’m late. Emergency client.”
Lyle looks up from the book in his hands, those sexy little nerd glasses perched on his nose. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” I answer, slipping into the bathroom. “Bride slipped at her bachelorette party. Took me five hours to make sure her smile was still perfect for the big day.”
I shut the door, take a quick minute to pee, then wash my hands, splash water on my face, and pat dry. I should probably do the night care routine I usually do, but I’m just too tired tonight.
When I step back into the bedroom, Lyle’s glasses are gone. He’s stretched out on his back, drumming his fingers against his chest like he’s got thoughts circling. I cross to the closet, peel off my work clothes, and slip into one of his shirts—soft, worn, practically a nightdress on me. Shorts underneath, then I crawl into bed beside him.
He props his elbow on the pillow, turning toward me. “She’s gone, huh.”
I smile, settling in. “For good.”
He smiles back. “I told Anna. She said we can pay her back by mediating between the mothers.”
I laugh. “I told her to hire a planner.”
He shrugs. “She was trying to be the good guy. Boy did it backfire.”
“Be nice,” I say. “She saved our asses.”
He nods. “That she did.”
A beat passes. “By the way, Dr. Nina wants you to come to the next session.”
He raises a brow. “Why?”
I shrug, playing it casual even though I’m watching him carefully.
He exhales and lays back down. “Alright. I’ll go.”
I turn onto my side, studying him. “What’s wrong?”
He’s quiet for a second, then says, “I’ve just been thinking about the past.”
I push up onto my elbow, my chest tightening. “That’s never a good sign?”
He smiles faintly, that lopsided one he saves for when he’s admitting something he doesn’t really want to. “Sisters are really good at pointing out your faults. It’s worse when they’re right.”
I rub slow circles across his chest, the steady thud of his heart under my palm. “Do you want to talk about it?”
He finally turns his head toward me, eyes soft but tired. “Nah. Not yet.”
“Okay,” I whisper, and I mean it. I won’t push.
He smiles then, a little too quickly, like he’s changing the subject on purpose. “Remi’s got a date on Saturday.”
I freeze mid-stroke. “What?”
Lyle glances at me, trying to gauge if I’m about to blow. “The boy’s almost fifteen. It was bound to happen.”
I sit up straighter, clutching the sheets like a lifeline. “But he’s my baby.”
Lyle pushes himself up to sit beside me, his shoulder brushing mine. “He’s growing up, Maria. The more you try to hold him close, the farther he’ll push you away.”
