Page 80 of Open Secrets
I gesture to myself, my hands shaking. “I’ve had four kids—but I’m fit. I still get looked at. Men still flirt with me.Young men, even. I work out, I take care of myself, I don’t—I didn’t let myself go.”
The words choke, tumble out too fast. I swallow hard and look away, out at the parking lot below, where cars glide in and out like nothing in the world is broken. “So if he wanted one woman, why wasn’t it me?”
The silence stretches, long and heavy. My chest heaves, and suddenly I’m furious at myself for even saying it out loud.
Dr. Nina tilts her head, her voice even. “Have you shared this with Lyle?”
I shake my head so fast it almost hurts. “No. Every time I try, I can’t. I just—” My throat tightens, the words clawing their way up. I throw my hands up and spit it out like venom. “I just end up calling Cece abitch.”
The word echoes in the calm of the office, too loud, too ugly. I press my lips together, cheeks burning, but I don’t take it back.
Dr. Nina doesn’t flinch. She just watches me, waiting.
“I know you’re not supposed to blame the other woman,” I mutter, twisting my hands in my lap. “She wasn’t the married one. But she is the blackmailing one, so I’m not taking it back.”
Dr. Nina’s mouth curves, not quite a smile, but something gentle. “I never asked you to. In fact, if I were in your position, I might’ve chosen some… much worse words.”
A surprised laugh slips out of me, wet and shaky. The relief of not being called out loosens something tight in my chest.
But then she tilts her head, her voice quiet. “How do you feel about your dad?”
My stomach drops. I look down at my hands, wishing she hadn’t gone there. “He’s gone,” I whisper. “He’s still here, but… he’s gone. And I never got to talk to him.”
The words scrape out of me, raw, trembling. “The reason my dad and I had that fight—the last real fight—is because he asked me if I regretted the abortion. About lying. And I said no, because I didn’t. Only now I realize…” My throat burns, tears stinging. “I realize he wasn’t asking if I regretted what I did. He was asking if I was sorry for something that never even happened. He thought I aborted a child Lyle wanted, behind his back. And it couldn’t be further from the truth.”
Dr. Nina leans in, her voice soft but steady. “If your dad knew—the real story—what do you think he’d say?”
I shrug helplessly, blinking fast. “I don’t know. The reason I exist is because my dad convinced my mom not to have an abortion. I think when he asked me, he was thinking aboutthat—about himself, about his story. Not me.”
Dr. Nina’s gaze doesn’t waver. “Or maybe it’s because he loved you so much. That was his frame of reference. That was what mattered to him.”
I nod, tears sliding down before I can stop them. My voice breaks on the words. “He did. God, he did. My dad… he loved me more than anything. And now he’s just—” I swipe hard at my cheeks. “Now, I won’t ever get to tell him the truth.”
The room is so quiet I can hear the clock ticking on the wall, every second stretching longer than the last.
Dr. Nina waits until I finally look up at her. Her voice is calm, deliberate.
“Maria, our time is almost up. But before you go, I want you to try something. I want you to imagine what your dad would have said if he’d known the truth. If he’d understood that the decision you made wasn’t careless or cruel, but about your future. About survival. About building the life you have now—the kids, the career, the marriage.”
My throat tightens, my fingers digging into my knees.
She leans forward just slightly. “Now, I want you to take that same honesty, that same courage, and sit Lyle down. Tell him how you feel about his past. Not with sarcasm. Not with blame. Just the truth. The way you wish you could have told your father.”
The words settle heavy in my chest, terrifying and impossible. But they also feel… right.
I nod, slowly. Because I know she’s not wrong.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Lyle — Present
Throwing my keys on the table, I toe off my boots by the door, shrugging out of my coat. The kitchen light blinks weakly in the darkness, probably left on by Maria so I don’t trip over the damn sofa again like yesterday.
Lately, I’ve been working overtime—volunteering to train troops, taking on whatever crap duty no one else wants. Like maybe if everyone sees me busting my ass, they’ll forget I’m the idiot who let some reckless mistake follow him home.
Christ, Connor. Connor with his big mouth and his smug grin. Connor, who’s been “taking breaks” from Bellamy since high school, like that’s what marriage is—seasonal loyalty. And me, stupid enough to listen. To take advice from him like he had any clue what a family costs.
I knew the code. Every regulation, every risk, etched into me after twenty-five years. Knew what would happen if I slipped. But I let myself believe Cece was harmless. That she was fun. That she could be trusted. And now look at me.
