“Truth,” I said, holding my head high, even as I was hit with a wave of instant regret. Why the hell had I suggested this?
“Why’d you buy this giant house?”
Ooh. The question wasn’t nearly as loaded as I’d expected. I figured he’d immediately start off with one that would force me to sort through my conflicted feelings about Gus and his involvement in my pregnancy.
“Officially?” I asked. “As an investment. I wanted to own something in Maine, and it was so pretty.”
I loved the idea of hosting family holidays with my nieces and nephew. And this house, with the lake and the docks and the boathouse, was the perfect place to do it. I’d missed so much of their lives, and I wanted to make memories.
“It’s a lot of house.”
I shrugged. “There weren’t many options.”
“So what’s the unofficial reason?”
Lips pressed together, I ducked my head. “My sister.”
He went stiff beside me. “Is Celine okay?”
“Sort of.” I inhaled deeply, then let it out slowly. “One day, she’s going to leave the sentient lump of dogshit she married, and when she does, I want her to have a place to go. A gorgeous, luxurious place where she and the kids can be safe.”
Gus covered my hand with his and squeezed. “Is he abusive?” he asked, his voice low and grave. “Tell me.”
I shook my head. “I have no hard evidence,” I explained. “But based on my observations, I believe he is. He’s definitely emotionally abusive. He treats my sister like shit, takes minimal interest in his kids, and spends most of his time playing golf or hanging out at strip clubs.”
“Wow,” Gus deadpanned. “What a winner.”
“Celine has been through a lot of shit. But I believe in my heart that she’ll leave him one day. She’s not the type to do it for herself, but for the kids, she’ll make it happen. And I’m ready to help when it does.”
What I didn’t say out loud was that I felt guilty. She was so young when I left for college. Only a freshman. No mother, no older sister, no one to help her manage the challenges of womanhood.
“She was the good daughter,” I explained. “Did whatever my dad told her to. So she married the son of one of my dad’s oldest friends, who happened to own the lumber mill where he did all his business.”
“She stayed close, had babies, and never stepped a toe out of line. But she’s miserable. Though she’s good at holding herself together and putting on a happy face for her kids.”
Gus sat quietly for a moment, a thumb pressed to his lips, considering.
“Don’t blame yourself,” he finally said, his voice soft. “You take on too much already. If you love her and support her and those awesome kids, then things will work out.”
I reflexively put my hand on my stomach. I wasn’t even close to showing, but I found myself doing it more and more.
“My turn,” I said. “Truth or dare?”
“Truth.”
“Okay. Why aren’t you married with a ton of kids?”
“Just didn’t happen,” he said, avoiding my eye.
“Bullshit. Look at you.” I waved a hand up and down. “You’re the most eligible bachelor in Northern Maine. You’re responsible and protective and stupidly handsome. How has no woman locked you down?”
“Handsome?” His face lit up.
“I said, stupidly handsome,” I replied. “And answer my damn question.”
“Can I take a dare?” he asked, shifting my way.
I crossed my arms. “No. Start talking.”
He bit his lip, his focus wandering around the room, clearly debating what to say.
After a long pause, he looked up at me, his face completely serious. “Because I was waiting for you.”
Even as my heart lurched, I pretended to vomit obnoxiously. “Please, you expect me to believe that?”
He hung his head and gave it a shake. “It’s true. It wasn’t even conscious. After we signed the divorce papers, I was sure you’d come back. Waited for you, spinning out elaborate theories about when and how you’d return. Eventually, that faded, and I forced myself to move on.”
That hurt. I’d been with other men, so logically, I knew he’d been with other women. But the thought still enraged me. The feeling that he was mine, that he belonged to me, persisted, despite the decades and distance. I had to keep correcting myself. He’d once belonged to me, yes, but he hadn’t for a long time.
Now, though, it felt like we were back, exactly where we were supposed to be. The ease of our connection, the lack of angst plaguing me, was irritating. I’d spent a lot of time and expended a lot of energy hating him. It had taken far too long, but I’d finally convinced myself he was a youthful mistake. That I’d imagined our chemistry. That we weren’t compatible and that I was grieving and clung to him as if he were a human emotional life raft instead of an actual partner.
None of the stories I told myself were accurate, and right now, I was being smacked in the face by the cold, hard truth. There was something here. A different kind of connection. One that was more adult and more evolved than what we had shared a long time ago.
And I’d have to manage the connection, the magnetic draw between us, no matter how badly I didn’t want to.
“I could say it’s because I worked too much. Spent all my time in the woods or building my house and not enough time dating, but that would be a lie. In therapy, I’m learning to acknowledge my feelings. And one of the biggest truths I’ve found is that I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.”
I gasped. Not ready for this level of honesty. Not ready for the emotions his words were unlocking inside me.
