Little Secrets Read online

  Ginny’d become adept at sifting through his drawers without Joseph knowing. In the days before email and texting or even Connex, all she had was the shoebox full of love letters she found on his top closet shelf. The ones from Ginny, and the ones from someone else. Her discovery had led to an argument, the vehemence of which seemed to surprise him, and though it broke her heart to do it, Ginny was the one to end the relationship.

  Now, in the life she’d come to after leaving Joseph, Ginny didn’t regret the breakup. She never wanted to feel that way about anyone, ever again, that lost and sinking feeling, that drowning. She never wanted love to be a prison. But some part of her did regret, for a very long time, the fact that she’d snooped.

  That was probably what had led her to her job of investigating people who lied. Her work had confirmed how easily caught most people are, how little they suspect their secrets will ever see the light of day. It had taught her an unforgettable lesson about the importance of keeping secrets.

  Ginny didn’t know the owner of the suitcase or the diary or the pictures within it. There was no reason to think that reading the diary would affect her life in any way beyond satisfying her curiosity. Yet even though she’d put the case on one of the built-in bookcases in the dining room and passed it several times a day as she wove through the maze of boxes she wasn’t allowed to lift, and though she stopped sometimes to look at it, to touch it with one fingertip, Ginny didn’t open the case again.

  Sean seemed to have forgotten it, at any rate. He got up in the morning and was off to work just as the light was hitting the sky. In their old place, their morning interaction had been limited to a mumbled “morning” as she stumbled past him on the way to the shower. Here, without a job to force her to wake up, she should’ve lounged in bed at least until the sun rose, but guilt forced her to head downstairs while her husband shaved and dressed. She made coffee. She made eggs. She made toast and bacon, even waffles, sometimes with a slightly curled slice of orange on the side he never ate and she rescued before the plate hit the trash, tucked away into a plastic storage container and saved in the fridge for the next morning. He never noticed if it started looking a little wilted. Frankly, she doubted Sean noticed much of anything that early in the morning, even with the mug of strong coffee she didn’t drink herself yet had perfected the art of brewing.

  He noticed her, though. His gaze followed her as she served him his food, sometimes at a place at the table, sometimes pressed into his hand along with a packed lunch as he rushed toward the door. He always took the time to kiss her in the morning, no matter how late he was running.

  “How do you do it?” Sean asked, his hands on her hips pulling her closer to press her belly between them.

  “A little vanilla in the batter.”

  He shook his head. “No. Not the waffles, well, I mean, not just the waffles. How do you know what I want to eat, or if I’ll have time? You always have it ready just in time.”

  Ginny smiled and kissed him lightly, pushing up on her toes. The truth was, she had no idea what her husband wanted for breakfast, any more than she had a clue what she should make him for lunch. She guessed, that was all, and figured if it wasn’t right he’d tell her. But then Sean had never been the one to press for decisions, happy to go along with whatever pushed him. If she made waffles, he’d eat waffles. If she made an egg sandwich, he’d eat that just as happily.

  “I pay attention,” she said.

  “To what?”

  “To everything,” Ginny said, and saw this wasn’t an answer Sean totally understood. “To what time you get out of bed, and how long you spend in the shower. I can tell if you’re on time or not.”

  “I can barely tell if I’m on time.” Sean kissed her again, slower this time, though it was one of the days when he’d lingered with his pillow through at least two snooze cycles. He pressed his forehead to hers, eyes closed for a second before he looked at her. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

  “Ah. But am I awesomazing? That’s the question.” She could taste the hint of coffee on his lips. The cream and sugar. Coffee had never appealed to her, ever, but now the flavor sent a tingle through her taste buds. Pregnancy made her crave strange things.

  “You are awesomazing,” he agreed. “My awesomazing wife.”

  “You’d better go, or you’ll be awesomazingly late.”

  Sean made a face, but backed away from her. “Remember, I have class tonight.”

  She’d forgotten, but nodded as though she hadn’t. “Oh. Right.”

  “Need me to pick anything up on the way home?”

  “No. I need to get out today anyway. Do you want anything special from the grocery store?”

  She could see by the way his brows started to knit that he was going to protest, so she shut him up with another kiss. “There’ll be plenty of time for me to be stuck at home, Sean. I can still drive. I can still push a cart.”

  “Have someone load the groceries for you.”

  She sighed, but nodded again. “Yes. Yes, I’ll go to the fancy-pants grocery store that’s twenty extra minutes away, so I can have a bag boy carry my shit for me. Oh, and spend twice as much money.”

  He laughed, but just a little. “They’ll all be fighting over who gets to carry your bags.”

  “Riiiiight. ’Cuz this is some hot piece of action going on here.” She rolled her eyes and stepped back to show him the growing expanse of her abdomen.

  Her foot came down on something that would’ve dug hard into her sole had she not learned her lesson and started wearing hard-bottomed slippers. Instead, her foot slipped forward as her ungainly balance tipped her back, hands flailing. She’d have fallen if he hadn’t grabbed her.

  Heart pounding, blinking fast as the slight red haze filtered around her vision, Ginny gripped Sean tight as he set her upright. Then the counter, thankfully, was solid under her touch. She shifted her feet cautiously, making sure the floor was solid too.

  “Be careful,” Sean said like a lecture. “Christ, Ginny!”

  As if she’d done it on purpose. Frowning, she looked to see what she’d stepped on. Something metal gleamed. Small and round. She bent to get it before he could stop her, though regretted when she stood too fast and had to again grip the counter to keep herself from wobbling.

  “What is it?”

  She opened her palm to show him. “It’s a button.”

  “Not one of mine.”

  As if she’d accused him of dropping it, she thought with a slight curl of her lip. “Not unless you’ve started wearing things with flowers on them.”

  Of course he hadn’t. This was a girl’s button. It looked vintage, tarnished metal with a raised flower design and a small hasp in the back where the thread attached it to the garment. Too small for a coat. A sweater maybe, or a blouse.

  She closed her fingers around it. “I’m fine, Sean. I wish you’d go. You’re going to be late.”

  “You should stay home today, take it easy.”

  “All I’ve done since we moved in is take it easy,” she reminded him with a gesture at the kitchen, still a mess with various boxes full of things he didn’t want her to put away but hadn’t done himself.

  “I have to go.”

  “Have a good day,” she called out after him from the doorway, with a wave he returned from the rolled-down car window.

  She thought he was going to say he loved her, but instead he shouted, “Buy organic!”

  She watched until the car pulled out of the drive and had disappeared down the street before she shut the front door on a swirl of cold wind. The hall had turned chilly, even through the bulky knit of the sweater she wore over her nightgown, but there’d be little sense in turning up the thermostat since she was going to leave for the store soon anyway.

  Upstairs, she stopped in the library and settled the button next to the tiny wooden lady in the fur stole on