Page 56 of The Secret
I closed my eyes and pressed my lips together.Why why why?
“What is the meaning of this?” she demanded as she stepped closer. “Fighting? In the middle of the festival? For God’s sake, Con.”
“I wasn’t fighting!” I said. And I really fucking hated how childish I sounded—how childishI felt—having to defend myself. “We were having a discussion.”
“I saw you push him,” she said through clenched teeth. “We will discuss this later.” She glared at me, a promise in her eyes. Then she turned to Micah. “I apologize for my son’s behavior, Mr. Bloom. Constantine gets overly emotional at times and says things he doesn’t mean. Enjoy the festival.”
Micah looked from my mother to me. I have no idea what he saw on my face—some delightful little combination of shame and horror, no doubt—but whatever it was made his eyes flash with anger and his face turn beet red.
“I don’t require an apology,” Micah said.
“Pardon?” My mother narrowed her eyes.
“I said, I don’t require an apology. Constantine did nothing wrong.” She tried to interrupt but he talked over her. “Not one single thing, Mrs. Ross. We were having a conversation. It became heated, as conversations between adultsoften do.”
“A conversation about what?” she demanded, looking from Micah to me and back again.
Micah looked at me, swallowed, and looked back at my mother. “About the use of penny gum with hydrangeas.”
I rubbed a hand over my eyes. I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.
“Penny gum? What in the world would Constantine know about penny gum?”
“Plenty,” Micah said hotly. “Turns out, Constantine knows a lot more than I gave him credit for. A lot more thanmost peoplegive him credit for. He’s intelligent and has good instincts. And I will never expect an apology from him for expressing his feelings in a forceful way.”
Micah’s eyes met mine and I had to look away to catch my breath. I didn’t think anyone had ever spoken up for me that way. Not evenme.
I could feel my mother’s curiosity rising, could practically hear the thoughts in her mind as if she was projecting them—How would he know Con’s intelligent? Clearly they’ve had more than one conversation!—and I didn’t give a shit. Micah’s words were like a shot of whiskey, warming me from the inside out, and helping me locate my backbone, which seemed to disappear whenever my mother was around.
“And frankly,” Micah continued, his voice soft and steely at the same time. “If I wanted or needed an apology for anything Constantine had done? I’d askhimfor it, Mrs. Ross. Not you. Because he’s a grown man, and you don’t speak for him.” His eyes caught mine and held, then he nodded once.Point made.“You two have a good day.”
He turned and walked away, leaving me stunned and gaping. And I was pretty sure he took another piece of me with him.
His words were like tiny little bombs, tearing down walls in my mind that I hadn’t even known I’d erected, making me see things I’d consciously avoided for a long time… nine years to be precise.
Better to call a thing what it is, Micah had said, and maybe, in this way, he was right.
I’d been afraid for a long time. Afraid, because I’d thought I had nothing left to lose after my dad died, and I’d found out how wrong I was when the Gaynors went after my family. Afraid, becauseJesus, how could my mother ever forgive me for what I’d done? I’d hoped to win back her respect by being an obedient child.
But I wasn’t achild.
And I couldn’t live scared forever.
My mother straightened her spine to her full five feet three inches. “That manis—”
“Right,” I interrupted. “Everything he said is one hundred percent accurate.”
“What? Nonsense. I was stepping in tohelpyou, not because I don’t think you’re a grown man, Constantine.” She rolled her eyes. “I gave birth to you, you know. I remember every detail.”
“Answer me this,” I said softly. “Would you ever get in the middle of a conversation between Julian and, say, Caelan James? Even if it looked heated?”
“I… might,” she said, and I had to laugh, because actually, that was true. God love her, she totally would.
“Okay, better example. Would you automatically go up to Cal and apologize to him for Julian getting upset?”
My mother frowned and toyed with the end of her long, black braid, which was as good as an admission.
But I had no clue where to go from there, except to say, “So please don’t speak for me again, okay?”
