But then she sobered and squeezed my palm. “I really am sorry I forced the issue today.”
I made myself meet her eyes. “No. Don’t apologize. You didn’t ask for anything unreasonable.”
Candace nodded. “I think”—she sucked in a bracing breath and stared down at our joined hands—“I think I’m extra sensitive about being secretive because of my last relationship.”
I’d asked her before if she’d been engaged, but, beyond that, she hadn’t talked about her romantic past.
“I was dumb,” she said with a pained smile. “I got involved with my boss at my last job. He was older and sophisticated and seemed to value my ideas and my work. But because we worked together and I was his direct report, he wanted to keep things quiet.”
Unease twisted my stomach.
“I agreed because I understood where he was coming from,” she went on, attention still locked on our hands in her lap. “I wanted to be taken seriously in my position at the firm, and sleeping with your boss didn’t look good from any angle. But I kept being a secret. He stole my work and passed it off as his own, and I didn’t call him on it because I thought I was being a supportive partner. And then one day his wife came into the office. I didn’t know he was married,” she rushed to add. “I never would have done something like that. He didn’t keep pictures on his desk. He never mentioned her. But we never went out. He would only meet me at hotels. I think I got caught up in hiding the truth, in sneaking around, the subterfuge of it all. I ignored the very obvious signs. And then I just felt like someone’s dirty little secret.”
I closed my eyes as anger tightened all my muscles. Fury that she’d been manipulated by a very obvious power imbalance, and regret that I’d brought her back to a place where she had to hide her relationship.
No wonder she’d wanted reassurances. Of course, it was important to her to be with someone now who was proud of her—who wanted to show her off.
Her thumb stroked mine gently as she admitted, “Once I knew the truth and confronted him, I was forced out so I wouldn’t make trouble for the company. I came home to get myself together and to lick my wounds. I thought you should know the truth. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I was...I was embarrassed.”
Swallowing down the guilt lodged in my throat, I said, “I am so fucking sorry I put you in another situation where you had to hide any part of yourself.” Finally, unable to stand the defeated slope of her shoulders, I pulled her into my chest and held her. “I wish I could go back and change things. I wish I’d known. I’m sorry, Candace.”
A different kind of fear gripped me. One that whispered more than gossip. It painted the very real picture of what would happen if I didn’t get my shit together. I would lose Candace. I would drive her away with my baggage and anxiety.
“It’s okay,” she said, voice muffled against my fleece jacket. “I understood your reasons. I just wanted you to know where I was coming from. Why I rushed things tonight.”
“You know, I could never—not in a million years—be ashamed to be seen with you. I’m so sorry that someone made you feel like a secret instead of the treasure you are.”
I couldn’t expect her to stay hidden away, not when she was staying in Kirby Falls now. I was so grateful she’d made that decision. I’d never felt relief like that, but today, amid my panic and worry, I’d forgotten how lucky I was to have her here, for good. I didn’t have to say goodbye or tuck my love away. All those futures that used to keep me up at night—the innocent fantasies and the hopeful daydreams—were now at my fingertips, just within reach...if I could manage to hold on to them.
“I’m fine being patient with you, Mark. Your fears and your feelings are valid. You can’t change overnight. You’ve been keeping yourself safe by staying away. It’s not right for me to try to drag you out into the open. It’s going to take time, and that’s okay.”
With the soft pom-pom of her hat brushing my cheek, I nodded because she was right. Years of learned behavior couldn’t be undone overnight. I didn’t want to keep disappointing her by going too fast and failing or having a panic attack on a street corner.
But I would keep trying, keep working to get comfortable among my neighbors. And we would tell her family the truth tomorrow. They deserved to know. Candace shouldn’t have to hide part of herself from her siblings and her parents. They meant too much, to both of us.
I wasn’t going to let my fears interfere with my relationship with Candace. I loved her and wanted to be with her. Tonight, with the past peeking around corners and triggering all my anxieties, I’d lost sight of that fact. But moving forward, I’d remember who I was fighting my demons for, because Candace was worth it. Our future was worth it. I refused to let my past mistakes keep ruining my life.
Amy Judd knew more than she was letting on, and she was letting on a lot.
Candace and I were the first to arrive for Sunday dinner. Nick had dragged Candace into the kitchen to help set the table and pour drinks for everyone. He said it was because neither one of them could cook worth a lick, so they better find some other ways to be useful.
Candace’s mother—who’d prepared the beef stew currently simmering away on the stove—had asked me to get down a box of holiday decorations from the closet in the living room. The Judds had their Christmas tree positioned in the front window, but it didn’t have any ornaments on it yet.
“I’ll get it ready this week,” Amy said as I placed the box on the worn carpet next to the six-and-a-half-foot-tall white pre-lit artificial tree. “When there aren’t kids at home to beg you to decorate, it’s easy to get lazy about it.”
“You finally got Brady out of the house,” I teased. “You almost sound like you want him back.”
Amy laughed. “I wouldn’t mind. He’s a good cook and he cleans like you wouldn’t believe. But he hogged the bathroom more than both my girls put together.”
I grinned and watched in amusement as Amy casually drifted over to the built-in bookshelves in the corner of the room and said, “See how meticulously his hair was styled?”
I followed to get a better look.
By the time my eyes found the photo she’d indicated, I realized where my steps had taken me.The Humble Shelf.
I’d wandered into the trap before I fully realized it was set.
I eyed Candace’s mother, but she was still pointing at a preteen Brady with dyed-blond tips and an unfortunate puka-shell necklace.
