Page 60 of One Small Secret

For the first time Moira’s eyes fill with hope instead of tears. Her chin lifts. “Please tell me this means you’re poor.”

“What?” Andre asks, taken aback. “No.”

Moira swears and then looks apologetically at Axley. “That would have made things a lot easier.”

Andre slowly reaches out a hand and when Moira doesn’t resist, he rests it on her cheek. “I have been poor, Moira. And I don’t think it ever made my life easier.”

A strangled laugh escapes Moira’s lips. “I suppose that’s true.”

“Come back. Finish the finale. Something tells me the production company won’t be angry about this secret. He’s a small little guy after all, and already partially famous. We can work everything else out later. After the show.”

Moira sniffs. “Unless you pick Jessica.”

“Jessica is a nice woman. She isn’t you.” Andre says, like that’s all the explanation Moira needs. And based on the way she falls into his arms, he’s right.

* * *

I shut the door of Ruben’s brand-new gum-free minivan behind me and look up at the tall pines surrounding his cabin. Moira wanted to put Axley to bed so after chatting with her and Andre for about an hour, during which Andre all but promised to buy a home in Rosco, Ruben and I left.

In one week, everything is going to change again, but I know we will weather it. “You know what the weirdest thing about us is?” I ask Ruben before he gets to the covered wrap-around porch of his cabin.

He tips his head to one side and waits for me to catch up with him. He’s got to say something about how the whole world thinks Axley is our son, because, yeah, that is just messed up. But also, maybe he won’t, because nothing about raising Axley together has been weird. He takes my hand and tugs me up the stairs. “Probably that you like sour cream and we still manage to make whatever this is between us work.” He moves his hand back and forth between me and him like he’s confused at how we ever got together.

I snort. I hadn’t realized sour cream was a hold up for Ruben. “No, not that. I just think it’s weird I ended up with an Edward. Me, the captain of the Team Jacob fan club, Washington chapter.”

His eyebrows raise. “Is there really a Washington chapter for that?”

I shrug my shoulders. “I’m not sure, but if I make it up, I would be captain, right?”

“I wouldn’t expect you to settle for anything less.” He pulls me to the porch swing and throws a blanket over us. “I’m not one of those boyfriends who delights in saying this, but you're wrong. I’m not an Edward.”

I kick my legs over his and use one of his huge outdoor cushions as a head rest against the side of the swing. “Like you even know what that means. And don’t say you watched the movies, those barely count.”

“You think I didn’t read Twilight?”

My mouth gapes open. “You didn’t.”

He takes my hand in his and intertwines our fingers. “You were obsessed with them. Of course I did.”

I’m trying to picture 17-year-old Ruben reading the series. Did he buy the books? Check them out at the library? Does he still have his copies? Would he give them to me for a present? Or maybe this is one of those lies he’s been saving up. “If you've read them, first of all, how has this never come up? And secondly, how can you say you aren’t an Edward? You are the epitome of an Edward—all shiny, rich and popular.” I scrunch my face together when I say those last things like they’re the most disgusting things on earth.

“No,” Ruben shakes his head. “That’s Ruben Palmer. I’m Jacob.” He lifts a finger. “I’ve loved you forever even when all you wanted from me was friendship.” A second finger goes up. “All I’ve ever wanted to do was make you happy.” When he raises his third finger he leans in close. “And I would never, ever, drink your blood. I don’t even want to.”

I laugh. “Are you using my obsession against me?”

“Is it working?”

“Kind of.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Only kind of?”

“Well, I’ve been debating confessing something to you for a while.”

“Uh oh. That sounds serious.”

“It is. And the funny thing is, and I’m not one of those girlfriends that delights in saying this, but you’re right. You are a Jacob. I mean, minus the whole wolf part, which would be sexy, but…” I shrug. “Nobody’s perfect.”

He narrows his eyes and tips his head to one side. “Okay, is this thing you want to tell me is that you’re leaving me for a wolf?”

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