Though reflective sunglasses hid his gaze, she saw his brows tweak down. “I guess that’s one of the drawbacks of a small town. People notice everything?”
“For me, it wasn’t a problem. I mean, at first I thought it was, but everyone was so helpful.” She didn’t want him to think badly of the friends she appreciated, so she explained, “When I first got here, I was”—there was no way to sugarcoat it—“a disaster.” Healthwise, financially, socially, and morally. “Andy’s dad had died in a car accident, and everything I had was suddenly gone.”
“You counted on him a lot?”
The sad truth was also embarrassing. “For everything, really. He’d wanted me to quit my job so we could be together more. He got us an apartment.” One he used only occasionally. “He bought my car.” She could feel her face heating at her own gullibility. God, she’d been a fool. “I’d say it was bad planning on my part, except I didn’t have a plan.”
“Sounds like your plan was to be with him. That doesn’t seem so bad to me.”
Feeling a little sick at what she was about to admit, Pixie shook her head. “I didn’t know it when we started dating, but he was married.”
After a beat of silence, Brogan merely said, “Oh?” without a hint of condemnation.
Not even with surprise. That single word encouraged her to share more, and so she did.
“I had a really difficult pregnancy. I didn’t realize until later just how bad it was, but I was supposed to stay in bed—only I couldn’t. I didn’t have anyone to do anything for me, and after Dylan was gone, I had no way to pay the rent or buy groceries, or … anything.”
“You said it was bad?”
With a small shrug, she admitted, “I almost died.”
He went still, his expression stark. “Thank God you didn’t.”
For once not noticing the scenery, Pixie stared straight ahead. “Even after I had Andy, I was still sick and without a job, but then I had a newborn to take care of.”
She felt his hand close over hers and looked down in surprise. The sensation of warmth and strength was a revelation. It brought her out of her dismal memories and put her firmly back in the here and now. In the small space of the car with Brogan and both kids, the air seemed to thin so that she had to breathe faster.
His thumb brushed over her knuckles. “It proves how strong you are, to recover from all that and still be so nice.”
A sweet ache of yearning and awareness came over her. “I, um, I didn’t feel nice. I felt like the scum of the earth.”
“No, not ever. Don’t say that, okay?” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze before releasing her. “It’s not true.”
He didn’t know her well enough to draw that conclusion. “You don’t understand. I didn’t have any family.” None that mattered. “There was no one close for me to turn to. I would have done anything for Andy, but the only person I could think to go to …” Even now, the words stuck in her throat. The feelings of inadequacy, utter failure, almost smothered her at times.
I’m a better person now. Marlow is proud of me. Cort is a dear friend. The townspeople respect me.She gave herself the necessary pep talk far too often.
“Who?” Brogan softly asked, again encouraging her.
She closed her eyes against her own shame and whispered, “I went to Marlow.” It still astounded Pixie, the way things had transpired. Yes, she’d prayed, and she’d been so hopeful, but never in her wildest dreams had she expected her life to turn out as it had. “It was an awful thing to do. This is private,” she explained, “so please don’t ever repeat it. But you see …” She bit her lip, then blurted out the truth. “Marlow was married to the man who fathered Andy.”
Still, he showed no surprise, just simply nodded. “Did she give you the help you needed?”
No way. Pixie’s eyes rounded. He couldn’t accept the awful things she’d done so easily. Where was his shock? His disbelief?
At the very least, she’d expected him to be disgusted at her audacity. They’d be at the restaurant any minute now, so Pixie wanted to wrap it up. “Marlow went above and beyond.” So many times, she’d wanted to brag about Marlow, but the sordidstory of her husband’s infidelity wasn’t one that should be bandied around town, so Pixie had never been able to share.
Now here was Brogan, giving her the perfect opportunity to explain the magic of her very best friend.
The words seemed to rush from her. “I’d never had a close female friend—any friend, really—so I had no idea a woman could be that bighearted, that understanding or supportive. Marlow has such an enormous capacity for love, and she just wrapped us up in it. She didn’t blame me. Instead, she helped me. She was still getting over her own devastation—the trauma of divorce proceedings, then the death of her husband, all on the heels of finding out that he was an awful cheater. But she never blamed me. Isn’t that incredible?”
“I think it just sounds smart. How could she blame you if you hadn’t known he was married?”
Marlow had said that often enough. Pixie shrugged. “Okay, fine. For that, I could be forgiven. But showing up on her doorstep with literally nothing but a baby and a single diaper? Brogan, that’s how dire things were for me—and yet she took me in.”
“Of course she did.”
“No, there’s no ‘of course’ to it. She could have pawned me off on someone else. Could have told me to go to a shelter or something. Instead, she let me in, took me to a doctor, and she and Cort, together, made sure I got healthy. Then she taught me how to survive. I wouldn’t be who I am now without her. She was like a big sister, a best friend, an instructor, and a tutor.” Her excitement gained momentum, until Pixie was smiling again. “She helped with Andy and she even gave me a job!”
