Best Kept Secret (Rochester Trilogy 3)

Jane stands up and slips out of the room. Beau’s eyes stay on Paige. Maybe that was some kind of signal they arranged. That it’s time for me to go. Paige closes her eyes and relaxes. I could cry, but that would drip tears all over her face and wake her up. I missed this so much. I missed everything about her so much.

“I should go,” I hear myself say. I’m right. I should go, and leave Paige with Beau and Jane until everything is worked out. No one can make any decisions after a night like this one.

“There’s plenty of room here,” Beau says. “Paige will want to see you in the morning.”

Will she? She’d have every right to wake up angry at me for leaving her. And then for showing up without any warning. “Are you sure?”

Beau has spent more time with her over the past months than I have. He would know. As much as it hurts.

“You’re her mom. She’ll want to see you.” He’s so firm about it, the way he was firm about everything.

“What about you? Are you sure you want me to stay?” I’m obviously interrupting something. Beau and Jane have a way to be together, and I’m barging into the middle of it. Staying at the inn doesn’t make it any easier.

“I’m sure.” Beau stands. “Do you want me to carry her up?”

“No. Thanks.” I don’t want her away from me. Not tonight. I rub Paige’s shoulder and her eyes pop open. “Let’s get ready for bed.”

Upstairs in Paige’s bedroom, I go through her dresser and find a pair of pajamas. Everything is brand new and soft. She doesn’t have anything left from when Coach House burned. Nothing I recognize. Nothing I bought. Paige allows me to slip the shirt over her head and hold out the shorts to step into, even though she’s old enough to do it herself. She lets me run a brush through her hair and put toothpaste on her toothbrush.

She lets me tuck her into bed.

These motions, these actions—they’re bone-deep in my memory. So deep my hands shake. I have to hide it from Paige. Putting toothpaste on a child-sized toothbrush is one of those monotonous things that you take for granted until you don’t get to do it anymore. Paige used to fight with me about the toothpaste. She’d insist on doing it herself. It would always end up all over her little hands, and the sink. She would fight with me, but I never tried to stop her.

“Lie with me?” she asks when I reach to turn out the lamp. A small nightlight flares to life in the corner of the room.

“Of course I will.” It’s a twin bed, not very big, but Paige is still small enough that we both fit. My heart hurts. The months I missed were too long, but they could have been years and years. I was so close to losing her forever.

Paige presses her body to my side and cuddles. A few tears drip down my cheek, but I keep my breathing steady. I don’t want her to think I’m sad about this. Nervous, maybe. Apprehensive about how things will go with Beau and Jane now that I’m here. But I’m not sad.

“I missed you so much,” Paige whispers, her voice breaking.

“I missed you too.” I kiss her hair, breathe her in. She smells like shampoo and sunshine. I can still remember how she smelled the day she was born, all downy and soft and so, so good. “I missed you every single day.”

“I thought you were alive,” she says. “I knew you were and nobody would believe me about it. I saw you outside.”

That makes a lump rise to my throat. I didn’t think Paige would see me when I walked on the beach. I never wanted her to think that I left her. It was a weakness of mine. When I climbed out of the water the night Rhys was killed, I promised myself I’d stay away from Paige until I was sure it was safe.

I couldn’t keep that promise. I missed her like I’d miss my own heart, or my lungs. I missed her so much my skin hurt. I felt the weight of her in my arms as a baby and as a little girl. The first day I dropped her off at preschool, she stood in the corner of the room. Paige was still red-faced and stubborn when I got back. I stepped into the room, and she ran to me, tears running down her face.

After all that, she claimed it was a great day.

“I was alive,” I tell her. “You were right.”

There’s a long pause. “Is Daddy still alive?”

“No, sweetheart, he’s not.”

Another pause. Paige rubs at her eyes. I expect anger and tears, but she just settles against me again. “Are you still scared of him?”