Page 92 of Open Secrets
Her breath catches, but I press on, even as shame claws up my chest.
“It wasn’t just convenience. It was pride. The ugliest kind of pride. And I hate myself for it.”
I lean in, close enough that she can’t mistake the truth in my voice. “But I swear to you—on our children, on every oath I’ve ever taken, on every single thing I’ve been proud of in this life—I will never again, ever, so much as touch another woman. You are it, Maria. You’ve always been it. And I will spend the rest of my life proving that to you.”
Her eyes glisten as she whispers, “You promise?”
I nod, steady. “I promise.”
She breathes out like she’s been holding it in for years, then wipes at her cheeks with the heel of her hand. “Then let’s get the kids. We don’t wanna be late.”
“Right,” I murmur, shifting gears. But before I can take my hand off the shifter, hers finds it. Soft. Certain.
I glance sideways, but she isn’t looking at me. She’s staring out the window, at nothing in particular. Still, I don’t miss it—the tiny curve of her lips, the kind of smile that says maybe, just maybe, the ground under us isn’t as cracked as I thought.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Lyle — Present
“Hi, big brother.”
Anna slides into the booth across from me, setting her bag down with a thump.
“Hey,” I say, leaning back with my coffee. “You get here okay?”
She nods, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Actually, yeah. It was nice to get away from wedding planning for once. Mom and Clay’s mom seem to think every lunch break is the time to decide a million things at once.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “They still fighting?”
“Like cats and dogs.” She groans, dropping her forehead into her hand for a second before looking up again. “Seriously, I’mtwo seconds away from banning them both from any planning sessions.”
I sip my coffee, trying to sound casual. “Maria told you not to let them start in the first place.”
Anna huffs. “I thought it would be easier that way. Neither Maria nor I have the time to plan a wedding from scratch, and Bethany—” she makes a face “—seems to be taking not being my maid of honour a little too personally.”
I grimace. That’s my opening. “Actually, that’s why I asked you to meet me.”
Her brows knit. “Wedding planning?”
“No.” I shake my head, fingers drumming the coffee cup. “Bethany.”
Her whole posture changes. She leans in, wary. “Okay…”
So, I tell her. Everything.
How Bethany and I stayed friends after our stupid hookup.
How I let the truth about the abortion slip.
How she twisted it, exaggerated, lied when she told our mom.
And most importantly, how she drove a wedge between Maria and our family for years.
By the time I finish, my coffee’s gone cold. My stomach feels the same. “I know I have no right to ask this,” I say finally. “But I just… I can’t even look at her anymore. I get that I made the mistake, but Anna—please. Don’t invite her to the wedding. Maria doesn’t even know I’m here asking you this, and she’d kill me if she did, but… please.”
Anna stares at me like I just sprouted a second head. She blinks once, twice. Then:
“Are you done?”
