Page 12 of My Secret Valentine

Now he does turn, his expression making my heart skip. “What kind of job offer?”

I’ve told him this much, so I’ll have to tell him all of it. And the part that will be the hardest is not being able to explain why I need to walk away.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Steve

The words “job offer” hit me like a physical blow. I turn from the window, snow swirling beyond the glass, to find Lainey standing just inside the garden room door. She's still wearing her coat, snowflakes melting in her dark hair, and I have the overwhelming urge to brush them away.

“What kind of job offer?” I manage to keep my voice steady, professional. Like her answer won't change everything.

“Editorial assistant. At Harper & Blake Publishing.” She takes a step forward, then seems to think better of it. “Emma, my old roommate, she works there now. Says they're expanding their children's book division.”

Of course. The perfect job for someone with her degree, her talent. Everything she deserves. Everything that would take her away from here.

“In Seattle,” she adds softly, and the distance feels like a canyon opening between us.

“When would you start?”

“They want an answer by Friday.” She pulls an envelope from her bag. It’s the one Margaret brought with the photos. “But that's not all we need to talk about.”

“The pictures.” I run a hand through my hair, remembering Margaret's face when she showed them to me. Not accusatory, just concerned. “I know.”

“Your mother-in-law came to see me at Perfect Brews.” Lainey sets the envelope on Claire's old wicker table. “She said she got the originals deleted.”

“That sounds like Margaret.” I attempt a smile but it feels wrong. “Always trying to protect us.”

“Is that what we need? Protection?” There's a challenge in her voice now. “Because from where I'm standing, it looks more like we need to face reality.”

“Reality?” I take a step closer, unable to help myself. “Which reality, Lainey? The one where you're just the nanny? Where these photos show something inappropriate?” I don’t finish what I want to say because I’m not sure how to put it all into words.

“Instead of what?” Her eyes meet mine, fierce and beautiful. “Instead of a family? That's what Margaret called it. But we're not, are we? We're just pretending. Playing house in this beautiful glass room while the whole town watches and judges and takes pictures.”

“Is that what you think we're doing?”

“I don't know what we're doing!” The words burst out of her. “I don't know if I'm crossing lines or reading signals wrong orcompletely losing my mind. I just know that every morning I wake up in this house, and my heart does this stupid little flip when I hear you making coffee downstairs. And every night when I read to Maddie, I imagine this is real and that I belong here. But I don't, do I?”

My chest aches at the tears in her voice. “Lainey, please.”

“And now there's this job offer, this chance to do what everyone always expected me to do. What I expected me to do. But the thought of leaving...” She wraps her arms around herself. “God, why is this so hard?”

“Because it matters.” I close the distance between us, unable to maintain this careful space any longer. “Because you do belong here. These past months, watching you with Maddie, seeing how you've brought life back into this house has been amazing. You think I don't feel it too? That flip in my chest every morning? The way everything feels right when you're here?”

“Steve.” My name on her lips is barely a whisper. “We can't.”

“Why not?”

“Because of Maddie. Because of your in-laws. Because of this whole town and their cameras and their judgment.”

“I couldn’t care less about what anyone in this town thinks.”

“You should. Your life is here. Maddie's life is here.”

“And you could be part of that life. If you wanted to be.”

She looks up at me, snowflakes still melting in her hair, and I can't help myself. I reach out, brushing them away with gentle fingers. She leans into the touch, just slightly, and something in my chest breaks open.

“I wanted to hate these photos,” I say softly. “When Margaret showed them to me, I wanted to be angry about the invasion of privacy. But all I could think was how right we looked. The three of us, in that blanket fort. You and Maddie in the grocery store, laughing about something. Even that moment in the park was so natural. So real.”

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