How to Keep a Secret

“Then what? You tripped and fell on a guy and you were like, oops, I got pregnant? What?”

Thinking about it was one of her banned pastimes. It was all too easy to start thinking, What if? But now she was not only going to have to think about it, she was going to have to talk about it, and not only with Mack.

“Before I met Ed, I was—” she wondered how much to say “—in love with someone.”

“You’re kidding.” Mack’s eyes flew wide with that teenage incredulity that emerged whenever parents revealed themselves to be remotely human. “Who?”

Did she really have to talk about this? What sort of example would she be setting for her daughter? “He was someone—unsuitable.”

“What does that even mean?”

“He was older than me. More experienced.” Which wasn’t hard, because she’d had no experience at all. “Not the settling-down type. He lived for the moment. He loved boats and the sea, so sometimes he’d skipper a boat for the tourists. And he built boats. He was good with his hands.” Very good with his hands. She remembered watching him working on the deck of a boat, sanding down planks while wearing nothing but a pair of board shorts. She’d never seen anyone like him before. She’d been unable to drag her gaze away from his body. Wide shoulders pumped with muscle and gleaming with sweat. Dark curls of hair that covered his chest. Powerful biceps that flexed when he worked. Looking at him had made her think of sex in a way that left her skin hot and prickly. And then he’d noticed her standing on the dock and given her a long look that had stolen her breath. “Sometimes he’d spend the day on the beach surfing. He lived on a boat—” she cleared her throat “—sometimes one that belonged to someone else and he didn’t have permission to use. If the owner caught him, he’d sleep on the beach. He wasn’t big on responsibility.” It was the understatement of the century.

“Whoa—” Mack’s eyes were round. “So you’re saying you hooked up with a bad boy?”

It was odd what impressed a teenager.

“I wouldn’t exactly say—” She reflected on the monumentally uncomfortable reality of having to confess to one’s mistakes to an impressionable teenage daughter. Do as I say, don’t do as I do. “We didn’t—I don’t know how to describe it.”

Mack’s mouth was open. “But you’re perfect,” she blurted out and Lauren gave a humorless laugh.

“I am so far from perfect, you have no idea.”

“How did you meet him?”

“He came into the café where I was working.”

“And you got talking?”

“No, not that first time.”

It had been more than sixteen years and yet she could still remember the way she’d felt that day. The delicious thrill. The intoxicating excitement. The incredible high that came from knowing he’d noticed her.

“And then you hooked up. Did Grams know?”

“No.”

“You were scared of what she’d say?”

“I didn’t talk to Grams much. Not the way you and I do.” Or used to. She knew now why Mack had changed overnight.

Mack looped her arms round her knees. Her face was pale. “How long did it last?”

“The whole summer before I went to college.”

It had been the best summer of her life. The summer against which all other happy times that followed would be compared and fall short. It had taken her years to realize that none of it had been real. That even if their relationship had somehow lasted, it wouldn’t have looked the way it had then.

“And when Grams finally found out, she freaked?”

“I never talked about it, I never brought him home and she never saw us together.” She saw Mack’s mouth drop open. “I know, I’m a hypocrite because I expect you to talk to me about everything. I want you to feel you can. But I didn’t feel that way with Grams.”

“You loved him?”

“Yes.” If they’d stayed together, would it have lasted? They’d never had a chance to be bored with each other or challenged. “He loved me, too, but he wasn’t the sort who wanted responsibility. He’d had a difficult childhood. I don’t want you thinking I was with someone who had no feelings for me. I don’t want you to take my experience as encouragement to be sexually adventurous.”

Mac snorted with laughter. “A relationship when you’re eighteen isn’t exactly sexually adventurous, even if the guy doesn’t own a house. So you found out you were pregnant and you panicked because you didn’t want me.”

Lauren could feel the hurt pulsing from her daughter. “I wanted you. I wanted all of it. Him, you, a home on the island—I wanted a life together.” She’d been naive. She’d tried to squash life into a neat package, not realizing that wasn’t how it worked.