Page 21 of Open Secrets (Infidelity #5)

Maria — Present

You know when you dread something, it comes just as quickly? Well, before I know it, I’m back in the beautiful office with the comfy couch and the professional therapist across from me.

“That must have been intense,” Dr. Nina says gently.

I nod. I’ve just finished telling her everything that happened yesterday—minus the part about the sex. “Yeah.”

She folds her hands in her lap. “Children are more perceptive than you think.”

“Well,” I say, leaning back, “Lyle talked to Remi before bed, and whatever he said worked. Because this morning, Lyle actually got a ‘good morning’ out of him.”

Her brows lift a little. “And you?”

I exhale, slow. “I’m relieved. It’s like… this boulder’s been lifted off my chest.”

“Can I ask you something?” she says.

I nod, even though she already did.

“Why do you think that is? You said it’s never happened before—in all the years he’s been deployed, you managed. Why do you think you’re struggling with the anxiety now?”

I twist the hem of my shirt in my hands. “Well, like I said—the incident he was involved in… it made me see that he’s not invincible. He’s a human. And humans fall.”

Dr. Nina smiles faintly, not unkind. “I feel like there’s something else. How did his accident affect you?”

I frown, confused. “What do you mean?”

Her smile softens further, patient. “Not just how it changed how you see him. How did it change how you see yourself?”

I sit with the question, my brow furrowing. Then, slowly, the words tumble out. “You know when something bad happens, and you think, okay—that’s it. The universe has thrown the problem my way, now I solve it?”

She nods once, encouraging.

“When Lyle went MIA, I realized the universe can throw more than one problem. And if something happened to him, then the kids would only be left with me. And then… what if something happened to me? Then the kids would be orphans. And what if Rain’s cancer came back? And—”

My throat closes. My hands grip tight at my knees. “And I just spiral from there.”

“Okay,” Dr. Nina says softly. “That’s understandable—to worry about what would happen to your children if something happened to you. Do you have any family who could step in?”

I let out a short laugh that doesn’t sound like humour at all. “Well… my mom. She left when I was four. Just packed up and took off.”

Nina’s face doesn’t flinch, but her eyes sharpen.

“My dad raised me after that,” I go on, “until he found out I’d had an abortion. Then he had a stroke and… just moved into a facility. Left me too.” I laugh again, but it comes out jagged this time.

“And Lyle’s parents?” I shake my head. “They cut us off years ago. Which leaves his workaholic sister, who I’ve spent the last five years hating—and who’s already admitted she doesn’t even want kids.”

I spread my hands like I’m presenting evidence. “There you go. That’s my village.”

The words hang in the air, heavy, bitter.

She nods slowly. “I see.”

“Pathetic, right?” I mutter.

“It’s not,” Dr. Nina says firmly. “It’s not uncommon to wonder how your loved ones would survive if something happened to you—especially with young children.” She pauses, folding her hands in her lap. “Now, it may be painful, but grandparents can be good alternatives—”

“No.” The word flies out of me, sharp.

“Maria—”

I shake my head, cutting her off. “No. They are not an option.”

Her gaze holds mine, steady but not unkind. “When was the last time you spoke to them?”

I swipe my hair out of my face, buying myself a second. “Three years ago. Lyle and I had just opened our marriage, and my first attempt… didn’t go so well.”

The memory burns through before I can stop it:

Maria — Three Years Ago – Austin, Texas. 2022

“So,” the guy across from me said, leaning back in his chair, “you wanna go back to my place?”

I laughed at first, thinking he was joking. “Let’s order appetizers first.”

“Why?” He smirked. “We both know how the night’s gonna end.”

I frowned, irritation sparking. “And how’s that?”

“You. Naked in my bed.”

I ground my teeth, forcing a tight smile. “You’re confident.”

“Open marriage dating,” he said with a shrug. “Kinda obvious what you’re here for.”

I snapped the menu shut. “You know what? I’m done.”

He laughed like it was a game. “Sorry, sorry. We can have food first. My treat.”

I stood, slinging my purse over my shoulder. “No thanks.”

At the valet stand, I handed over my ticket, pulse thudding. Jesus, what was I doing?

“It’ll be a while,” the valet said.

“Fine,” I muttered, folding my arms.

Just my luck—

“Maria?”

I turned, already wondering if I could make a run for it. Nope.

Anna practically skipped over, glowing. “Maria, you’re here!”

“Yeah,” I said flatly.

She wasn’t alone. Her parents trailed behind, beaming like some cruel trick of fate. The fake smile on my face hardened to stone.

Anna either didn’t notice or pretended not to. “I’m introducing Mom and Dad to my new boyfriend. Do you think you could stay?”

I shook my head before she could finish. “I’ve got to relieve the sitter. Sorry.”

“Miss?” the valet called, pulling my car up to the curb.

I smiled with stiff relief and turned away, but Anna stopped me with a loud, “Hey!”

Then softer, almost earnest: “If you ever need help, I’m available to babysit.”

“Sure,” I said, already walking. And then I was gone.

Maria — Present

“And that was that,” I finish, sitting back against the couch.

Dr. Nina nods thoughtfully. “It seems to me they were extending a branch.”

I blink at her, incredulous. “How do you get that?”

“You said they smiled when they saw you. And your sister-in-law offered to babysit—in their presence. That sounds like an opening.”

My mouth opens, then shuts again. I shake my head. “They don’t want that. They’re… crazy Christians. They think I’m a murderer.”

Dr. Nina tilts her head, calm. “And what makes you so sure of that? Did they say those words to you? Or are you filling in the blanks?”

Heat rushes to my face. I cross my arms, defensive. “They didn’t have to say it. You should’ve seen their faces. I know what they think of me.”

She leans forward slightly, her voice steady. “Maria, sometimes the story we tell ourselves about how people see us is louder than the truth. What would it mean if you were wrong? If they actually do want a relationship?”

My throat tightens. I want to laugh it off, but the thought lodges deep.

“They don’t,” I say flatly, cutting her off. My arms tighten around my chest. “So this conversation is pointless.”

Dr. Nina doesn’t flinch. She just sits there, patient as stone. “And your father?”

I let out a sigh, dragging a hand over my face. “You’re just—” I stop, my throat tight. “I told you. He won’t even see me. And I can’t exactly break into a retirement facility.”

Her expression doesn’t change. “So you’ve tried?”

My laugh comes out sharp, brittle. “Once. Years ago. They called me to the desk like I was a trespasser. Said he wasn’t accepting visitors. That was it.”

I stare at the rug, my voice low. “I got the message loud and clear.”

“How did that make you feel?”

I give her a look. “Really? That’s the best you can do?”

Dr. Nina only waits.

I let out a breath, tipping my head back to stare at the ceiling. “It makes me feel… sucky.”

Silence stretches, heavy, so I glance back at her.

My lips press against my teeth, tracing the edge.

“I guess I never realized how easy it is for someone to just… cut you out. I mean, up until five years ago, I never went a week without talking to my dad. He raised me. He was my mom, my dad, my everything. And then suddenly he just didn’t care anymore. ”

My voice cracks. I swipe at a tear before it can fall. “That’s it. Done with you. Those are probably the last words my father is ever going to say to me.”

The silence after is thick. I realize my nails are digging into the cushion, and I force my hands to unclench.

Dr. Nina leans forward slightly, her tone soft but steady. “That must have been devastating, Maria. I can hear how much it still hurts.”

I don’t answer. I just nod once, sharp.

She glances at the clock on the side table. “We’re almost out of time for today. I don’t want to rush you, but I do want you to sit with this thought for the week: maybe your father’s words don’t define your worth as a daughter—or as a mother.”

I let out a shaky breath, half a laugh, half a scoff. “Easier said than done.”

“Of course,” Dr. Nina says gently. “That’s why we’ll keep working on it. Same time next week?”

I nod again, not trusting my voice.

By the time I step out of her office, I’m hurting more than I was when I went in.

“I really, really don’t get the point of this,” is exactly what I say to Lyle when I meet him after work.

“Can you please just give it a try?” he asks.

“I am,” I mutter, sipping from my straw. “I just hate wasting money.”

“Let me worry about that.” He smiles faintly, then hesitates, looking away. “I spoke to my parents today.”

“Oh.”

His eyes flick back to mine. “I punched my dad.”

A laugh bursts out of me. I shouldn’t laugh—he’s old, for God’s sake—but a giggle slips anyway. “Why?”

He just tilts his head. Why do you think?

I sigh. “What happened?”

So he tells me. All of it. I try to listen without commenting, biting my tongue until it hurts.

But when he finishes and tells me about their offer to reconcile, I just can’t hear another word.

“Fuck them,” I mutter, pushing to my feet.

I storm out, my purse bouncing against my hip, and hear his footsteps pounding the pavement behind me as I power-walk to the car I parked at the far end of the lot.

Lyle catches up, grabs my shoulder, twists me around. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” I shout. “Nothing’s fucking wrong, everything is peachy keen!” I throw my hands up, my purse slipping to the ground with a thud. “I tell you I’m struggling and you quit. I struggle for two years and they just…” My voice breaks, my arms dropping.

“Why are you so angry about that?” he asks, stunned.

Tears stream down my face. “Because it’s like I chose to do it.

Like I chose to struggle. I let fear stop me from telling you.

I let pride stop me from going to your mom.

And I let humiliation stop me from trying with your dad again—to explain, to make them see.

Not to mention the shit with Anna. God, I’m such an idiot. ”

“You’re not an idiot.”

I give him a look, daring him to convince me.

He holds steady. “Everything looks easy when the storm has passed. The things you could have done, the choices you should have made—you think I don’t have that?

When my team was ambushed, you think I didn’t wonder if I’d made the right call?

If they’d still be alive? But I can’t. I did what I could when shit happened. Screw the what-ifs.”

I blink at him, confused. “How does that make sense?”

He presses his hand to my cheek. “Because I’m pretty smart. I married you, didn’t I?”

Then he kisses me, soft and steady, right there in the middle of the parking lot.

When I pull back, I rest my hand against his chest. “See? This is what I need.”

He bends, scooping up my purse, and guides me back toward the cars. “You’re still seeing Dr. Nina.”

I blow out a raspberry, but don’t fight him as he steers me toward the passenger seat of his car.

“What about mine?” I ask.

“I’ll pick it up tomorrow. It’s Sunday anyway.”

“You’re so nice.”

On the drive home, he glances at me. “You didn’t hear the best part. My parents offered to pay off the rest of our debt.”

My head whips toward him. “What? Why? How?”

He shrugs. “My mom’s parents apparently left quite a lot of money. It’s going to be divided between me and Anna anyway. They’ll give hers to her for the wedding and us to… pay our debts.”

I purse my lips. “I really, really want to be the bigger person and tell them to shove it. But it would be nice not to count pennies anymore.”

“And what about their apology?”

I sigh. “Same. I want to tell them to shove it. But it would be nice for the kids to know their grandparents. And we’ll see them at Anna’s wedding anyway. I am the maid of honour.”

His eyebrows shoot up.

I groan. “I might’ve said yes out of guilt. Plus, she promised not to make me wear orange.”

Silence settles in, only broken by the hum of the road. After a while, I ask quietly, “Do you really think they didn’t know?”

He shakes his head. “Doesn’t seem so.”

Great.