Page 58 of Secrets That Bind Us
I nod.
She died in it.
But Verity doesn’t need to know that.
“We were headed to Paris the day after. My book was being launched. I called out to her. And she turned and said, ‘Promise me you won’t go back.’” There’s a darkness that surrounds Verity while she recalls this story, and I don’t miss the way her arms break out in goosebumps. “When I didn’t reply to her, she got up and she was on me, her face in mine, pinching my cheeks so hard it hurt, and she kept saying, ‘Stay away, sweet girl. Stay away.’ But it was so loud, so angry, and her touch was freezing. I woke up screaming, even scared the kids. But I was so scared myself,” she chuckles, “I made them sleep with me that night. In the morning I got the call from her hospice nurse.”
“Verity…”
“I stayed away as long as I could. I left the kids with Eli, came down, made the arrangements and left. But when Zoey and Evan said they wantedto have the wedding here, where they met as teens, what could I say? They’ve done everything for me. They’ve been so supportive of everything, even when they weren’t happy. Even when Zoey was angry with me. Even after I missed so many of their milestones, staying away like Mama asked me to.”
“She asked you to stay away, while she was alive?” Even though it’s news to me, I understand Marie’s reasoning.
Verity nods.
“Why?”
Another shrug. “I don’t know. She was so scared that night. She wasn’t my mom. Not the loving, caring woman I knew. She was… deranged. Daddy had found out about me leaving, and something else happened. Something I can’t remember, no matter how many times I try to.”
“Well, I’m glad you came back.” I admit, knowing it's better she doesn't remember what happened. She'll never look at me the same. It's a secret I'll take to the grave if I have to.
She makes a soft noise in her throat like a hum, and I nervously put my arm around her shoulders like an awkward teenager. She snaps her head in my direction. “What are you doing?”
“Getting comfortable.”
“You can actually go home. Thank you for the Pedialyte and helping with my kids. You did a good job.”
This bothers me. I look up at the ceiling and search for patience, and fuck me, there isn’t any. “A good job?” I pull away so I can really take her in. She’s gotten a little paler, and she’s looking a bit green herself, but I press on. “I’m not leaving. Even if the worst is over, you don’t need to be handling this by yourself. You need help.”
“I don’tneedanything. I gave you a chance to prove yourself and you did, and I thank you, but I got it from here.”
“Christ, I forgot how fucking stubborn you can be. You don’t have to handle this by yourself anymore, Ver. I’m here.” She shakes her head at me, still wet strands of her hair falling around her shoulders. “You may not need me, but I’m here. Iwantto be here. For you. For them. However you need me. I’ll clean out the puke buckets. I’ll scrub the toilets. I’ll throw away rugs and rub a tummy. I’m not so fucking senseless that I can’t make stew when they’re ready to eat so you can sleep.”
“I don’t need you here.” She grounds out, but I know it’s a lie as soon as her eyes dart away when she says it.
“Christ, what did Micah fucking do to you?”
“He made me a head of household, married, single mother, Dean. I did it all alone. With a ring on my finger and a useless title.”
“I told you.” I hate the words as soon as they slip out of my mouth, and she does too because she cringes. “I told you, ‘Whatever you do, don’t marry him. You won’t be happy.’”
“Well, I did! Okay?! I was alone in a big city, pregnant and scared, and he was the only friend I had out there because Jake got a great opportunity in Japan, and trust me when I tell you, it was better than being alone. It was better than having three roommates and having to share one bathroom until I was given the bonus for my manuscript. And mind you, we didn’t marry until years later.”
“And now he’s dead, and you’re back, and you haveme. And I’m not going any-fuckin-where.” It’s cruel and callous but I don’t give a fuck.
She’s off the chaise in two seconds, hands on her full hips. There’s my spitfire. “Jesus, Dean, this isn’t a movie! This isn’t a single mom rom-com – this is my life!Theirlives! I don’thaveyou! Ineverhad you.” Her voice cracks, and my heart plummets. Is that really how she felt? Before I can ask, she continues, becoming more animated. Hell yeah. “I hadpiecesof you when I gave youall of me, no matter how hard I tried not to. Except now, it’s not just me anymore. I have kids now. It changes everything!”
It really fucking doesn’t. Not to me.
“Yeah? Well, it was my life, too, Verity! She’s my kid, too! And him. If you think Noah not being mine would make me love him any less or differently just ‘cause he doesn’t have my blood, you’ve gone and fucked shit up in your head or I just haven’t proven the type of man I really am. He’s half you, Ver. And I’ll be damned, but when I look at him, I see you. I don’t seehim.
“So let me fucking love you the way I should’ve been loving you – the way I’vealwaysloved you. And let me love them like my own, because theyaremy own. Because fuck Micah. Quit being so goddamn stubborn and fucking fighting this, Verity. It was always you and me. Every second, every hour, every fucking day you fight this from happening is another day we waste not being together. Let it happen.”
She’s fuming, but she’s so fucking devastatingly beautiful, hair around her shoulders, glasses perched on the tip of her nose, brows hiked way up and a glare that softens just enough for me to continue. Just enough for me to try to call out to the girl that loved me, to bring her back to me.
“I ain’t afraid to beg, Verity. So please,” I swallow and take a step forward, grabbing her hand and tugging her to me, then put my hands on her shoulders. “Let me love you right. I don’t want to tell you my intentions, I want to show you. We already know this ends with you wearing my Nana’s ring on your finger and being my wife. With us on a back porch in matchingrocking chairs, watching our grandkids play, helping ‘em catching fireflies at sunset.
“We’re gonna drive each other crazy, baby, and probably argue a lot, but that’s fine – I can’t imagine wanting to argue with anyone else but you for the rest of my life, and that’s fine too, because that means I get to fix it. Whatever is ever wrong, from the goddamn rickety stairs to us, I get to fix. Igetto make it better. It’ll never be me having to. It’ll be megettingto. Because Iwantto. Because I want you, those kids, your time, your tears, your happiness, your spitfire, your stubbornness,all of it.I may have had your past. But I want your now, and I want your future. So, for the love of all that is holy – stop. Fighting. Us.”
