Page 24 of Open Secrets
Debra nods slowly, her mouth tugging into something halfway between sympathy and pride. “Good. You’ve been bottling it up too long.”
My throat tightens, voice breaking even as I keep it low. “I told him I can’t do it anymore. I can’t do this alone.”
The words hang between us, heavy as lead. For once, Debra doesn’t fill the silence with a joke. She just watches me, eyes steady, waiting.
Finally, she asks, “What’d he say?”
“Nothing really.” I huff out a humourless laugh, staring into my glass, wishing I could chug it down. “He wants to go to therapy.”
Debra blinks, surprised. “Wow.” She nods after a beat, softer. “I hope it works out.”
“Me too.” The words scrape out, fragile. Then I wave my hand, needing to break the weight of it. “This is too real. Let’s talk about something else. How’s your daughter?”
Debra brightens, grateful for the pivot. “She’s good. Actually—” she laughs, rolling her eyes “—she thinks Iknowthe Tooth Fairy.”
I can’t help smiling. “Really?”
“Super serious,” Debra says, leaning in, her voice dropping conspiratorial. “Apparently, I’ve got connections.”
I laugh, the sound lighter than I feel. “Well, you do have that face.”
She throws her napkin at me, and just like that, the mood shifts. We let it. We always do.
After another round of small talk, I check my watch, guilt gnawing already. “I should head home.”
Debra nods, squeezes my hand across the table before I can pull back. “You’re tougher than you think, Maria.”
I give her a smile I don’t quite feel, grab my coat, and step out into the night. The air is cold, sharp, carrying me back to the life waiting on the other side of it.
I head home looking forward to some peace and quiet, while dreading another fight. The kids are already picked up—our usual arrangement. A single mom from Remi’s class keeps them until six. We have dinner at her place sometimes, I help clean up, she gets a little extra income and company, and I get someone I actually trust to watch my kids. It works out. Whenever Lyle is home, he picks them up early, five o’clock sharp.
When I pull up, my spot in the driveway is gone—taken by not one but two extra cars. It takes me a while to find parking down the street, and by the time I finally push through the front door, I’m already pissed.
The sound of cackling laughter cuts straight through me. I know exactly whose laugh that is.
Three heads swivel in my direction, and only one belongs to someone I even remotely like. And “like” is debatable right now.
“Hey,” Anna says, perched on my kitchen counter like she owns the place.
The counter. Of all places. She knows damn well how much it grates on me, outside clothes on my kitchen counters. Sofa? Fine. Chairs? Fine. But the spot where I cook my family’s meals? Absolutely not.
I just stare at her, silent, until she rolls her eyes and hops down with a muttered, “Jeez.” I’m raising four kids, two of them teenagers—I’m not scared to smack someone down. Not that I hit my own kids. They’ve actually got manners.
I ignore her and shift my gaze to the other unwanted guest: Bethany. Anna’s high school bestie, perpetual thorn in my side, and Lyle’s one-time mistake back when we were broken up. A mistake she wants repeated, judging by the way her hand is draped over his forearm now.
She doesn’t notice my glare, but Lyle does. He steps away from her touch, running a hand over his head like he can wipe the guilt clean. “Anna and Bethany showed up ten minutes ago,” he explains quickly, “with some cookies.”
I drop my bag on the counter, the thud deliberate. “And that required two people, huh?”
Bethany finally deigns to turn toward me, her smile bright and fake as ever. “Oh my God, Maria, you look so good.” She flips her hair, casual cruelty sliding right in. “I wish I’ll look that good when I’m old and have kids.”
I bare my teeth in a smile.Bitch, you’re two years younger than me.Out loud, I say, “Well, judging by your single status, you don’t have to worry about the last part.”
Her smile falters. Mine turns genuine.
“Come on, guys,” Anna cuts in, laying a hand on my shoulder like she’s the peacekeeper. “Let’s be civil.”
“Sure,” I say sweetly, stepping away from her touch like it burns. I turn to Lyle instead. “Where are the kids?”
