18. Piper #2
“What did you think would happen? That I’d never find out?”
Before I could answer, a small voice piped up from the radio on my belt.
“Gus Gus to Cinderella, do you copy?”
I couldn’t let Olive go unanswered. Sighing, I unclipped the radio and pressed the button. “Go for Cinderella.”
“Can I watch Paw Patrol on my iPad? Over.”
Gideon’s face lost all color. He looked less like a pro hockey player and more like the White Walkers I’d joked had designed his house.
“Oh dear.” Mrs. Lockelhurst’s shoulders sagged. “That’s my granddaughter. She loves Rocky and Zuma—”
“Stop.” I held up my hand. “You don’t have to do this, Mrs. Lockelhurst. Gideon, can we step outside for a minute?”
“That’s not necessary. I think I’ve seen all I need to see here.” He zipped up the backpack, slung it over his shoulder, and strode away without saying another word.
Mrs. Lockelhurst and I stood in the doorway, stunned. The radio crackled in my hand. “Cinderella?”
“Give me that.” Mrs. Lockelhurst grabbed the radio from my hand. “Go after him.”
I hesitated, but only for a second. Bolting out the door, I jumped down the stone stairs in one leap and jogged past the coach house.
As my footsteps slapped the pavement behind him, I wondered if he might start to run too, but instead, he stopped and turned.
The color had returned to his cheeks, but his eyes were… dark.
“You have a daughter.” His voice was flat.
“I do.”
“A daughter. What else? A husband? Is your name even Piper?”
“Gideon, please—”
“Please what?” He spread his arms wide. “Please understand why you lied about everything? Please pretend this doesn’t change anything?”
“It doesn’t have to change anything.”
“Doesn’t it?” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “You let me think you were, I don’t know—something else. You never mentioned having a kid.”
“I was going to tell you. After the game, I decided—”
“After spending how many nights in my bed?”
I flinched. “It was only supposed to be one.”
“Right.”
The invisible hand had returned to squeeze my throat. “I messed up. I should have been honest from the beginning. But don’t act like I committed some crime because I clean houses for a living.”
“That’s not what I’m doing. Piper, I don’t care what you do for a living. I really don’t.”
“You say that, but I don’t believe you.” My own anger was building. “You’re looking at me like I’m a completely different person.”
“You are a completely different person. Everything I thought I knew about you was wrong.”
“Not everything.” I stepped closer, close enough to see the gold flecks in his dark eyes. “The way we talked, the way we…” My cheeks flushed, remembering the way his hands felt on my body. “That was real.”
Something flickered across his face. But as fast as it came, it went, and whatever glimmer of hope it had given me went with it.
“I can’t do this.” He backed away. “I can’t be with someone who doesn’t trust me enough to be honest about who they are.”
“I do trust you—”
“No, you don’t. You decided I was the kind of guy who’d care more about your address than who you are. Maybe you’re right.”
“You’re not—”
“How would you know? You never gave me the chance to find out.”
And then he was gone, leaving me standing in front of Judy’s house, my heart in pieces.
I waited until he passed the pillars at the foot of the laneway, and then a minute longer, just in case he decided to turn around and run to me and tell me he forgave me and everything was going to be alright.
Palm tree fronds rustled in a gust of wind while I stood there, but Gideon didn’t turn around.
My boss was waiting in the doorway, wringing her hands. “I’m sorry, Piper. I tried to fix it for you.”
I wasn’t mad at Mrs. Lockelhurst. The whole thing had been my own damn fault. But I had been right. Gideon would’ve dropped me the second he found out the truth anyway. Apparently, he wasn’t the guy I thought he was after all.
An uncontrollable sob escaped from the depths of my chest. I clapped my hand over my mouth and wished I could suck that sound back into my body and lock it in there forever.
“Oh, sweetheart.” Judy wrapped her thin arms around me.
“I ruined it,” I said into her shoulder. “I ruined everything.”
“That boy is hurt,” she said, stroking my hair. “But he’s not stupid.”
I pulled back, wiping my eyes. “You didn’t see his face.”
“I saw it. And I saw the way he looked at you, even angry. This isn’t over.”
“I should get back to work.”
“Absolutely not.” Judy handed me the radio. “Go home. Spend the evening with that little girl. I told her she could watch one Paw Patrol .”
“I can’t just—”
“You can and you will.” She winked. “Besides, something tells me this story isn’t finished yet.”
I tiptoed into the coach house. Olive was perched on a barstool, the light from the iPad flickering on her face. I hoped she would be too into the show to notice my red, puffy face, but as the door clicked shut, she glanced up.
“Mommy, why are you sad?”
It was time for the truth, something I’d skirted these past few weeks.
“Oh, Olive.” I sighed. “Sometimes grown-ups make mistakes. And sometimes those mistakes hurt people.” My voice shook.
“Did you make a mistake?” She shut off the show and opened her arms. I scooped her from the stool, and she wrapped her legs around me like she did when she was a toddler.
“Yeah, sweetheart. A big one.” I kissed her soft neck.
“Did you say you’re sorry?”
“I tried, but sometimes sorry isn’t enough.”
She bit her lip, like she was thinking about it. I’d taught her apologizing was important. “Miss Wilson says when you hurt someone, you have to keep trying until they feel better.”
Out of the mouths of babes, as Judy would say.
“Maybe you’re right.” I kissed her forehead. “Maybe I should try again.”
But as I squeezed the best thing in my life, I wondered if there would be a next time or if I’d just blown the second-best thing that had happened to me in years.