Page 31 of Open Secrets (Infidelity #5)

Lyle — Present

I’ve been on edge all damn day. Maria told me the confrontation went well, but I can’t shake the feeling it’s not over.

Instead of heading straight to pick up the kids, I drive to Maria’s clinic. The glass doors are locked, but I knock until Debra appears. Her eyes look a little puffy.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

“Fine,” she says quickly, subdued. “Family drama.”

I nod. “Anything I can do?”

She shakes her head, pulling her purse off the receptionist’s desk. “I’m gonna head home. I was just waiting for Maria.”

Before I can ask more, she’s already halfway out the door. “We closed early—it was slow today. I’ll see you,” she adds, giving a small nod toward the back, where Maria probably is.

I lock the door behind her, and glance around the quiet clinic. The hum of the ac, the faint smell of disinfectant—funny how much this place feels like her.

Then she steps out of a side door, surprised. “Lyle? What are you doing here?”

I grin, spreading my arms. “Have I ever said how proud I am of you?”

Her brows furrow. “Well, I think the talk worked, but—”

“Not that.” I gesture around us, taking it all in. “This. Your clinic. You managed to build this place and raise our kids all by yourself. I’m so damn proud of you, Maria.”

She softens, a smile tugging her mouth. “Well, I had help.”

“Not enough,” I say, crossing to her. “You’re pretty damn amazing, you know that, Dr. Connelly.”

She laughs, that quick, sweet laugh I’ll never get tired of. “So are you, Captain Connelly.”

I kiss her, lingering just long enough to taste the faint coffee on her lips. Pulling back, I murmur, “Ready to go?”

She nods. Together, we lock up, and I lead her toward my car. She starts to head for hers, but I shake my head. “Leave it. I’ll drop you tomorrow.”

“It’s the opposite direction,” she points out.

I shrug. “I love driving with you.”

Her smile widens as she slips into the passenger seat.

We pull out of the lot in comfortable silence—until, of course, traffic slams us to a crawl. I roll my eyes. “Would’ve been quicker if I gave you a piggyback ride.”

Maria doesn’t respond.

I nudge her hand, squeezing gently. “Hey.”

She looks over.

“What?”

“Everything okay?”

She nods quickly. “Yeah, yeah. Of course.”

“Did something happen?” I press. “I mean… something other than, you know.”

Her shoulders rise and fall. “No. I just… left after I suggested she leave.”

“Okay,” I say slowly. “So what’s wrong?”

Maria twists her fingers in her lap, staring out the window. “It’s that she’s the opposite of me.”

I glance at her, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

Her voice is quiet, almost reluctant. “We’re the same age. Both women. But that’s where it ends. She’s tall where I’m short. Blonde where I’m brunette. And it was like… you found someone so not me.”

I grip the steering wheel tighter, knuckles aching.

“I…” The words scrape out of my throat, useless.

Maria’s eyes stay fixed on the window, her reflection blurred in the glass.

“I’m still hurt,” she admits, voice steady even as it breaks me in half.

“About her. About the relationship. I tried not to be, and I know I said I wouldn’t be.

But we agreed—no relationships. And you went and had one.

Not a traditional one, maybe, but still one. ”

She finally turns to me, and it’s worse than being yelled at. Her face is calm, but her eyes… her eyes look like they’re holding back tears.

“I just don’t understand why.”

I swallow hard. My mouth opens, closes. I can’t give her the first answer that comes to mind—cowardice, loneliness, stupidity. She deserves more than that.

“I don’t know if I can make you understand,” I say quietly, “but I can try.”

She doesn’t blink, doesn’t soften. “Did you have feelings for her?”

I shake my head as the car inches forward, headlights crawling in the jam ahead. “No. Not an ounce. Not once.”

Maria lets out a disbelieving laugh. “How? You slept with her multiple times. Out of choice. You can’t tell me there wasn’t something that kept you going back.”

“Convenience,” I say flatly, the word bitter on my tongue.

Her head snaps toward me. “Convenience? What the hell does that even mean?”

I work my jaw, keeping my eyes on the brake lights ahead. “It’s… I know it’s hard to understand, but guys aren’t like girls. We don’t have to feel something to—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” she cuts in, her voice sharp as glass.

My grip tightens on the wheel, shame burning in my chest. “Maria—”

“No,” she says, her voice trembling now, caught between fury and hurt. “You don’t get to reduce this to biology. To ‘guys aren’t like girls.’ That’s not an excuse. That’s not a reason. That’s just a cop out.”

I drag a frustrated hand through my hair, knuckles scraping my scalp. “Why are you bringing this up now?”

Her laugh is sharp, hollow. “Because the last time I bottled my feelings, we ended up destroying our marriage.”

“It’s not destroyed,” I snap, too quick. “It’s—it’s just a hiccup. One we’ll get over.”

Her head whips toward me, eyes flashing in the dark.

“How, Lyle? Tell me how. Because every time we think we’re good”—she actually makes air quotes, her fingers cutting the air like knives—“something happens that just throws it in our faces. Whether it’s a blackmailer at the door, or me spilling my guts in therapy, or you confessing some new piece of the past you ‘forgot’ to mention. ”

The words sit like stones between us, heavy and impossible to move.

I grit my teeth to keep from snapping. “I told you—there was just one.”

She waves her hand, sharp and dismissive. “What about Bethany?”

“I did not sleep with her,” I bite out.

“Again,” she says, leaning back against the headrest. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

I glance at her, thrown, but she’s already exhaling like she’s tired of explaining.

“You continued to allow that woman into our house when you knew what she had done. And before you say you ‘didn’t know’ she had lie to your mom—” Maria cuts me off with a raised hand.

“—she still took something private. About your wife. About our marriage. And handed it to someone else. What more does she have to do before you stop pretending, she’s some innocent girl you have to protect? ”

I shift in my seat, gripping the wheel tighter. “She’s… you know her home life wasn’t good. I guess I always had a soft spot for her.”

Maria’s laugh is bitter, slicing. “A soft spot? If the situation were reversed—if I let a man I’d slept with into our house, someone who openly tried to ruin our relationship, would you be so forgiving?”

Her words slam into me. I open my mouth, then shut it again, nothing but heat and shame building in my chest.

Her voice is barely a whisper, but it cuts deeper than any scream. “Why can’t you ever be on my side?”

Something in me caves. The anger, the excuses, the bullshit I’ve been clinging to—it all burns out, leaving nothing but ash. I pull the car over, tires crunching against the gravel shoulder, and kill the engine. The silence after is deafening.

“I never saw it like that,” I admit, my throat thick.

Slowly, I turn to her. She won’t look at me, eyes fixed on the dashboard, but I keep talking anyway.

“I swear to you, Maria—I wasn’t choosing them over you.

I was… I don’t know. Afraid. Afraid of losing control, of losing the version of myself I thought I was supposed to be.

So I clung to anything that made me feel like I wasn’t the bad guy. ”

Finally, her eyes flick toward me, wet and shining.

“And in the process,” I continue, my voice cracking, “I made you feel like you were standing alone. Like I didn’t have your back. That kills me. Because you’re the one person in this world I should’ve always been standing beside.”

I reach for her hand—not grabbing, not forcing, just offering.

“I’m sorry. For Bethany. For Cece. For every time I made you feel like you were fighting alone.

I can’t change the past, but I swear to God, Maria, I’ll do better.

I’ll protect us. You. I’ll make damn sure you never have to question whose side I’m on again. ”

Her hand trembles in mine, but she doesn’t pull away. I squeeze it gently, holding her like a vow.

“I love you,” I tell her, my voice raw. “Not the idea of you, not the convenient parts of you. All of you. And I don’t want to spend another day making you feel like I don’t.”

Maria swallows hard, her voice a whisper, almost breaking. “Then tell me… what did she have that I don’t?”

The question slices me open. I force myself to meet her eyes, even when everything in me wants to look away.

“I didn’t love her,” I say firmly. My throat burns, but I force it out.

“The reason I… the reason for Cece wasn’t about her at all.

It was about me. I wanted to feel like a man.

And for some stupid, selfish reason, I convinced myself that meant sleeping with someone—anyone—because I knew you were doing the same. ”

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.