He laughed, which immediately set me at ease. A laughing man didn’t come to break up with his fiancée.
“Turn around,” he said. “And I’ll back in.”
“All right.”
I turned my back to the door and took a few steps away. I heard Caleb shuffle in. He came to stand with his back pressed against my back. He reached for my hands, and we stood there like that for a good minute before he spoke.
“I’m gonna turn around…” he said.
“No!”
He started laughing, and I knew he was teasing.
I squeezed his hands. He squeezed back.
“Leah,” his voice touched my name in a way that made me close my eyes. Everything that rolled off his tongue sounded beautiful but especially my name.
“Yes?” I said softly.
“Do you love me, or the idea of me?”
I stiffened, and he stroked the tops of my fingers with his thumbs.
I tried to pull my hands away because I wanted to see his face, but he held them firmly, not letting me go.
“Just answer the question, love.”
“I love you,” I said with certainty. “Do you … do you not feel the same?”
Oh God. He was going to call off the wedding.
I felt my throat constricting. I dropped my head, pulling deep breaths.
“I love you, Leah. I wouldn’t have asked you to marry me if I didn’t.”
Then why are we having this conversation?
“Then why are we having this conversation?” I had sounded surer in my head. My voice quivered.
“Love isn’t always enough. I just want to make sure…”
His voice trailed off. Was he talking about Olivia? I wanted to scream. She was here with us on our wedding day. I wanted to tell him that she was gone! She’d moved on. She was … she was … a worthless bitch that didn’t deserve him.
Did I love him?
I lifted my chin. Yes, I did — more than she did, anyway. If he needed me to talk him through this, I would.
“Caleb,” I said, my voice soft. “There is something I’ve never told you. It’s about my family.”
I took a breath and allowed the truth to seep from my lips. It was now or never. My words were laced with shame and hurt. Caleb, sensing something, gripped me tighter.
“I’m adopted.”
He made to spin around, but I held him in place. I couldn’t look at him just yet. I just needed to get this out. Any minute they were going to come looking for us, and I needed to finish before they did. “Just, don’t turn around, okay. Just … listen.”
“Okay,” he said.
“After my parents got married, they tried for three years to have a baby. Doctors told my mother that she couldn’t have children, so they reluctantly decided to adopt. My father is Greek, Caleb. He needed a son. They decided not to wait for a domestic adoption, which would have taken years. My father had connections in the Russian embassy.
“Leah…”
My heart almost caved at the sound of his voice. “Just shut up,” I said. “This is really hard, just let me say it.”
I fought the tears. I wouldn’t sacrifice my makeup for this.
“My real mother was sixteen and she worked in a brothel. I wasn’t the boy they wanted, but they brought me back with them. I was six weeks old. A month later, my mother found out she was pregnant. She had a miscarriage … I guess it was a boy. My father blamed the stress of the miscarriage on me. I was apparently very difficult, colicky and whatnot. She got pregnant with Courtney a few months later, but my father had lost his boy. I guess he’s hated me ever since. I went from the baby they wanted to the baby that killed the wanted baby … to the inconvenience — a prostitute’s baby.”
There was a loud rapping on the door. “A few more minutes,” I called out. I spun around and made Caleb face me. He took me in his arms, his eyebrows drawn. I felt his warmth seeping into me. He was quiet for a long time.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“God, Caleb. It’s my family’s dirty little secret. I was ashamed.” I had to bend my head all the way back to look into his face. He made me feel small and protected.
“You have nothing to be ashamed of. It’s them — I can’t even imagine.”
He shook his head. “Is that why your father won’t walk you down the aisle today?” He narrowed his eyes, and I blushed. I’d told him that my father’s gout was acting up. No holds barred. I nodded. My father had told me a week earlier that he would not be escorting me down the aisle. I hadn’t really expected him to.
Caleb swore. He hardly ever swore in front of me. I could see how angry he was. “That’s why he gave you the job.” It wasn’t a question. He was piecing things together. I nodded. He looked so enraged; I knew my plan was working.
“Caleb … don’t leave me,” my lip quivered. “Please … I love you.”
He grabbed me almost roughly and pulled me into his arms. I clutched him, not caring about my makeup or my hair. This was the way into his heart. I played his compassion, and I played his need to protect things that were broken and lost.
The knocking on the door resumed. Caleb held me at arm’s length and looked at me. Something had transitioned in his eyes. I’d become something else to him in the moment I’d shared my secret. Had I known that would happen? Had I intentionally held off on telling him the truth in case something like this ever happened?