The Secrets She Kept. Brenda Novak
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seconds later, she managed to get the key in the lock. “Go ahead and set him inside,” she said as she swung the door wide.
As soon as Keith put Simba down, Simba limped off to curl up in his bed by the couch.
“Thanks again.” She thought that was it, that she’d soon be able to breathe a sigh of relief and congratulate herself on not melting at the sight of her former lover. However, Keith put a hand on the door.
“I can tell you’re not interested in hearing this, but...I’m sorry,” he said. “I never meant to hurt you. I was...I was a wrecking ball back then. I destroyed everything and everyone I came into contact with.”
He’d been trying to destroy himself more than anything, to escape the pain he was in. She understood. But it didn’t make things any easier that she’d wanted so much more from him than he’d ever wanted from her.
She pushed the wet hair out of her face. “You have nothing to worry about,” she said. “That was years ago. I don’t think about it anymore.”
“Really? Because I still owe you money.”
He withdrew his wallet, but she stopped him before he could open it. Maisey had already reimbursed her for what Keith had borrowed. Keith’s sister had made her take the money and asked her not to tell Keith she’d stepped in. They both knew he wouldn’t appreciate her getting involved in his business, especially since her actions revealed doubt that he’d ever take care of the debt himself.
The old Keith wouldn’t have. He wouldn’t have been able to...
“Don’t worry about that, either,” she said. “I helped out a friend. No big deal.”
He blinked at her. “You won’t let me pay you back?”
Shit... Considering the situation, and the fact that he now had way more money than she did, pretending wasn’t believable, wasn’t even reasonable. The amount was too great. “To be honest, your sister paid me a long time ago, Keith. So, please, give the money to her.”
There went her promise but, short of accepting the money, which she didn’t want to do, she felt she had no other choice.
“Oh.” He frowned as he put away his wallet.
Eager for a shower so she could begin her day, Nancy nearly shut the door and let it go at that. She planned to forget she’d ever encountered him. But she did feel some sympathy for the loss he’d suffered. “I’m sincerely sorry about your mother. If there’s anything I can do to help out with the funeral, please let me know. I’m already doing the flowers—for free, of course.”
He studied her through the crack she’d left between the door and its frame. “You should get paid for that.”
“No. I’m happy to contribute. She was my employer for seven years. I learned a lot from her. I’m a much better designer thanks to...” her intense criticism “...her high standards.”
“Okay.”
“Enjoy your stay on the island.” No doubt she’d see him at the funeral, but she didn’t plan on speaking to him again. They’d both said all that needed to be said.
After she closed the door, she leaned against it and forced herself to stay put instead of hurrying over to the window so she could watch him return to his car. For five years she’d been telling herself she never wanted to see him again—and yet she craved a better look, a chance to study him without his looking back at her.
He’d changed as much as Maisey had said, she decided, picturing him in her mind instead. He’d filled out that tall, spare frame, packed a lot more muscle onto it, but he was still lean and wiry. He didn’t have a weight problem like she did. His face, once so exaggerated, so angular, had softened, as well. He no longer appeared gaunt, which suggested he was eating—something he didn’t do enough of when he was on drugs. His eyes were clearer and brighter, too, his whole bearing more confidence.
That he was doing so well made her breathe easier. But that in itself concerned her. If she didn’t care about him anymore, why would she feel such relief?
“Damn you,” she muttered, but she wasn’t sure if she was talking to herself, for still being so susceptible to the attraction she’d always felt, or him, for not feeling any attraction at all.
* * *
“Nancy’s lost weight,” Keith said over a Beatles song that was playing on the radio.
The way Maisey fidgeted with her seat belt gave Keith the impression she didn’t want to discuss Nancy. “A few pounds,” she finally said.
“She looks great.”
His sister folded her arms as he came to a stop at the light. “She’ll never be model-thin.”
Her comment struck him as odd. Her weight had never bothered him before; why would it bother him now? “Who says she has to be?”
“No one. I’m just making an observation.”
“And that is...”
“She’s never been your type.”
“I have a type?”
“Yes. Skinny, blond and beautiful. More like the police chief. She’s pretty, don’t you think?”
She was pretty, but that was beside the point. “Not everyone I date is blond—or skinny,” he said. “I was with Nancy before, wasn’t I? And she was heavier than she is now.”
“You can’t use Nancy as an example.”
The light turned green. He made a left, onto the main drag. “Why not?”
“She was a divergence. Even she was surprised when you took an interest in her.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“No, it’s not. You’re used to getting whoever you want. And when you can have anyone, you typically don’t choose someone who’s a few pounds overweight.”
“She’s not that heavy!” She thought she was, and had always been self-conscious about it. The first night they’d made love, he’d had a hell of a time getting her to trust him enough to take off her clothes. But it had been worth the battle. She’d given him intimacy and warmth, someone to cling to when he had needed it most. And once she grew comfortable, there’d been plenty of physical attraction and enjoyment. He’d liked the softness of her curves and the fact that she was exactly as nature had made her. Although he wouldn’t be vulgar enough to say it, especially to his sister, she had the most beautiful breasts he’d ever seen. Her legs weren’t bad, either. She just carried a little extra weight around the waist.
“Name one other woman you’ve dated who’s been overweight,” Maisey said.
“Maybe I wasn’t initially attracted to Nancy, but the more I got to know her, the prettier she became.” She just couldn’t compete with the cocaine that’d kept him going back then. No one could.
“She’s not capable of dealing with someone like you. That’s all.”
“You remember what I was like back then, Mais. I wasn’t capable of having a relationship with anyone. Even you. But I’m clean now. Things are different.”
“She’s still outgunned, doesn’t have nearly as much experience with men as those women you’ve been dating in LA. You need someone more...sophisticated.”
He turned down the radio. “You mean someone who can’t get hurt because she doesn’t know how to care in the first place? Someone more like Mom?”
“Of course not! But what you had with Nancy wasn’t a real relationship, either, so don’t try to pretend it was.”
Keith told himself to relax so this wouldn’t explode into an argument. He understood why she might be protective of Nancy, but he didn’t need Maisey piling on. He already felt