The Secret by Max Monroe

Author:Max Monroe [Monroe , Max]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: The Winslow Brothers, Book Three
Publisher: Max Monroe LLC
Published: 2022-04-08T16:00:00+00:00

Thursday, February 14th

Rachel

Waking up today—after two straight days of sex with Ty—feels different from every other day I’ve woken up in New York. My longing for something, my search for feeling at home, it’s oddly…missing.

I’m not naïve enough to think Ty is the answer to everything I need in life, but whatever that restless thing inside me was—whatever was egging me on every time we engaged in a game of push and pull—it’s quieted.

This morning, I can hear the birds. I can hear the city. And if I listen really closely, I can hear my mom.

Don’t worry, I don’t hear her, like, actually speaking to me from the dead—that would be a creepy sexual side effect—but I can feel her presence, here, with me.

I thought the fact that today is Valentine’s Day might cause an awkward stir inside me, or maybe cause some discomfort in Ty, but with the way we left things last night, dirty texting well after midnight, I’d say we’re both feeling pretty unfazed.

I grab my bag from the counter and head downstairs to the bakery to find Lydia and Lou having their morning coffee together at one of the tables now that the initial rush of the day is over.

They look at each other the way my mom always looked at my dad, and I couldn’t be more thrilled for them that they were able to find the one person who puts them at ease.

I’ve never seen them have a real fight, and trust me, I would have if they were having them. Bakery weekends are just about the seventh portal of retail hell, and they both still do it, after this many years, with a smile on their faces.

It’s impressive, really, and I can only dream of one day being that emotionally stable. I come by the craziness honestly, though—I’ve been this way my entire life.

Maybe it was being the youngest sibling, maybe it was losing my mom during some of my most crucial years, or maybe it’s just the way I was made, but I’m not the kind of gal who knows she’s doing the right or wrong thing right away. I’m the poor sap who has to find everything out the hard way.

I settle down in a chair at the table with Lydia and Lou and throw my brown leather gloves on the marble top. The two of them smile at me even with the screech of the chair legs caused by my abrupt movements, and I lean into my elbows on the table after I’ve taken a seat. “So, what time are we doing…you know…the thing?” I ask Lydia, knowing it’s incredibly stupid that I still can’t say the actual words going to visit Mom’s grave after all these years.

She doesn’t criticize, though, instead giving me the space I need and an answer too. “I think Dad said around two. It’s supposed to sleet later or something, so he doesn’t want to wait too late.”

I’m supposed to be in class with Ty at two, but hell, maybe this is better.

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