4. Luciana Creed #2
When I finally opened my eyes again, my mother was still standing there waiting patiently, and for the first time since Maddox found out the truth, I realized I was tired of carrying this by myself.
So I took a deep breath before finally saying the words I’d spent years trying not to.
“Nine years ago, another woman got pregnant by my husband, and I kept it from him.”
My mother’s expression didn’t change immediately.
If anything, she became even stiller. The kind of still that told me she was listening carefully. Taking everything in before deciding what to say.
I looked away first, because now that I’d started talking, I wasn’t sure how to stop.
“She reached out to him after she found out she was pregnant,” I continued in a low tone. “At least she thought she was reaching out to him.”
My mother’s brows pulled together.
“What do you mean?”
I swallowed hard.
“She was emailing him.”
The words felt heavier now than they ever had before.
“He left his account signed in on the laptop one day, and I saw the messages.”
My mother remained silent. Not because she approved and it wasn’t because she agreed, she just wanted me to finish.
“I opened them… I shouldn’t have, but I did.”
My mother slowly lowered herself onto one of the barstools at the island. She folded her hands together and waited.
Still saying nothing.
God, I almost wished she’d interrupt me.
Say something.
Anything.
Instead, she let me keep digging my own grave.
“I thought it was a mistake at first,” I admitted. “I thought she had the wrong person. Then she sent proof.”
My hand drifted to my stomach without thinking.
The same way it always did lately when my emotions started getting the best of me.
“An ultrasound.”
My mother’s eyes closed briefly. Not dramatically. Just for a second before they opened again.
“And what did you do?” She asked in a low voice.
I laughed softly, but there wasn’t a damn thing funny about the answer.
“I panicked.” The memory hit me so fast it almost took my breath away. I was right back there again. Younger. Angrier. Terrified. “I thought my life was over.” My voice cracked before I could stop it. “I thought everything we’d planned was gone.”
My mother continued watching me carefully.
“So you contacted her.” It wasn’t a question and I knew it wasn’t.
I nodded and mumbled, “Yeah.”
“And she agreed to meet with you?”
“Eventually.”
My mother exhaled slowly. Then she asked, “Did Maddox know any of this was happening?”
I shook my head.
“No.” The word came out barely above a whisper. “No, he didn’t.”
Silence settled between us again. The kind that made it impossible to hide from yourself.
Because for years, I’d focused so much on why I did it that I rarely stopped to think about how it sounded. Not to me. To other people. To somebody hearing it for the first time, and judging by the look on my mother’s face, it sounded exactly as bad as it was.
“I didn’t do it to be cruel,” I said quickly. The need to defend myself came automatically—almost desperately. “I wasn’t trying to hurt anybody.”
My mother’s eyes softened.
“I know that,” she said.
Tears immediately burned behind my eyes.
“You do?”
“Of course I do.”
That answer should’ve made me feel better, but it didn’t because she wasn’t agreeing with me. She was simply acknowledging that my intentions and my actions weren’t the same thing.
“I loved him.” The words came out broken. “I still love him.”
My mother’s gaze dropped briefly before returning to mine. “I know you do, baby.”
“I was scared.”
“I know…”
“I thought if he found out?—”
“Baby.”
Her voice stopped me. It wasn’t harsh or filled with anger. It was just firm enough to keep me from spiraling.
“You keep telling me why you did it, but have you stopped to think about what it cost?”
My throat tightened instantly, because the answer was standing right in front of me.
Maddox sleeping in another room…
Maddox leaving without saying goodbye...
Maddox looking at me like he didn’t know who I was anymore…
For the first time since arriving at my mother’s house, I couldn’t find an argument.
Couldn’t find an excuse.
Couldn’t find a defense.
All I could find was pain.
“I think I lost him,” I whispered.
My mother stared at me for several seconds before reaching across the island and placing her hand over mine.
She didn’t tell me everything would be okay; didn’t tell me Maddox would get over it or tell me marriages survived worse every day. Instead, she just sat there holding my hand while I struggled to hold myself together.
The longer she stayed quiet, the more I realized why… because there wasn’t anything she could say. Not when the damage had already been done. Not when the man I’d spent years loving was now questioning whether he even knew me at all.
“Did he leave?” my mother finally asked.
I nodded.
“Early this morning.”
“And he didn’t say anything?”
The lump in my throat immediately grew.
“No.”
That answer seemed to hurt her almost as much as it hurt me.
My mother had known Maddox for years. She knew the kind of husband he’d been. She knew how attentive he was. How protective he was. How much he loved his family.
The fact that he’d left without speaking spoke volumes.
“I watched him leave from the window.” The confession slipped out before I realized I was saying it. “I thought he was going to come into the bedroom first… At least tell me good morning. At least look at me, but he didn’t.”
My mother slowly nodded.
“He needs time.”
The words should’ve comforted me, but instead, they made me want to cry all over again, because time could heal things. Time could also make people realize they didn’t want to stay.
“What if time doesn’t help?” I asked in a whisper.
“Then you deal with that when it comes.”
I shook my head.
“That’s easy for you to say.”
“No, baby.” She squeezed my hand gently. “It’s not.”
For a second, neither one of us spoke. Then she asked the one question I hadn’t been expecting.
“Have you apologized?”
“Of course I have.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“I didn’t ask if you said you were sorry.”
My brows pulled together.
“Then what are you asking?”
My mother’s gaze held mine.
“I’m asking if you’ve actually apologized.”
The distinction caught me off guard, because in my mind, they were the same thing.
Apparently, they weren’t, though.
“You keep talking about how scared you were,” she continued carefully. “You keep talking about protecting your future, protecting your relationship, protecting your marriage.”
I opened my mouth to respond but she lifted a hand.
“Let me finish.” Immediately, I closed it. “When you talk to Maddox, are you apologizing for what you did…” Her voice softened. “Or are you explaining why you did it?”
God.
Had I even truly apologized?
Or had I spent all my time trying to make him understand me?
“I don’t know...” That was the first honest answer I’d given all morning.
My mother’s eyes filled with sadness as she said, “Then maybe that’s where you start.”
Tears immediately blurred my vision again because she was right. As much as I hated hearing it. As much as I wanted somebody to tell me I wasn’t completely wrong. She was right.
The conversation had never been about me. This wasn’t about the fear I felt nine years ago. This was about the pain Maddox was feeling now, and for the first time since he’d confronted me, I finally allowed myself to stop looking at the situation through my own eyes.
The moment I did, the full weight of what I’d taken from him hit me all over again. A little girl who should’ve known her father. A father who should’ve known his daughter, and me standing right in the middle of it.
My eyes closed, because no matter how many times I replayed it in my head, there wasn’t a version of the story where that part didn’t make me the villain.
The drive home felt quieter than the drive to my mama’s house. Not because my mind had finally settled, because it hadn’t. If anything, my mother’s words had given me even more to think about.
Have you apologized?
Or have you just explained yourself?
No matter how many times I replayed the conversation in my head, I kept arriving at the same conclusion.
I’d spent so much time trying to make Maddox understand why I did what I did that I’d barely acknowledged what it actually cost him.
By the time I pulled into the school pickup line, I felt emotionally drained.
The line of cars wrapped around the building while parents sat scrolling through their phones or talking to one another. Normally, I’d use the wait to run my mouth on the phone.
Today, I just stared through the windshield.
Thinking… Overthinking.
Doing exactly what Maddox always accused me of doing.
A few minutes later, the school doors opened and children began pouring outside.
My eyes immediately found MJ, and Michael wasn’t far behind.
The second they spotted my car, both boys started moving faster.
That simple sight managed to pull a small smile from me for the first time all day.
No matter what was happening between me and Maddox, those two boys remained the best thing we’d ever created together.
The doors opened almost simultaneously.
“Hey, Ma.”
“Hey, Mama.”
Their backpacks hit the seats before they did.
I leaned over and kissed both of them before pulling away from the curb.
“How was school?”
That was all it took.
For the next ten minutes, both boys talked over each other trying to tell me about their day.
MJ was frustrated because somebody in class hadn’t done their part on a project.
Michael was convinced he’d become the fastest kid at the school after winning a race during recess.
Neither one seemed remotely concerned about anything happening inside our home.
For that, I was grateful. Children deserved to be children. Not carry adult problems.
The conversation continued until MJ suddenly asked, “Dad still working?”
My grip tightened slightly around the steering wheel as I answered with, “Yeah.”
“He been working a lot.”
The observation was innocent.
“Just busy right now.”
MJ accepted the answer easily enough.