Ethan’s mouth curved into a boyish grin.
Suddenly the wall around her heart, the one she’d considered as solid as the Hoover dam, cracked, then shattered. She couldn’t contain the pain and tears any longer.
Her knees folded under the weight of her grief and she put her hands on her face, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Through blurred vision, she saw horror on Ethan’s face, his beautiful smile gone.
“Kerri, what’s wrong?” Natalie was kneeling beside her, a concerned look on her face.
Shit. Kerri pushed her hair out of her face, furious with herself. She was ruining everything. All because she couldn’t control herself.
Then Ethan was kneeling beside her as well, gently but firmly moving Natalie out of the way. “Natalie, I’ll get this. Thanks for your help.”
“Are you sure? I don’t—”
“Really, it’s okay. I’ve got it. Why don’t you go ahead and head home?”
The two exchanged a look and Ethan said, “Please.” Natalie got up.
“I’ve got my phone on. Let me know immediately if there’s something I can do.”
The door opened and closed and Natalie was gone.
Kerri wiped the wetness from her face on her jeans. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I’m just…” She sniffed. “They’re happy tears.” She winced inwardly at the lie, which sounded about as credible as a politician’s promise. What had happened to her? She used to be able to lie so well, especially when it came to her family. She’d had years of practice at smiling and laughing at the right times, saying the right things, nodding prettily and avoiding showing her disappointment at all costs.
Ethan dragged her into his arms. “Kerri, honey, what’s wrong? Talk to me.”
His chest was solid and warm under her cheek, and she gripped his shirt.
“I’m sorry, Kerri. Tell me what’s wrong, and I’ll fix it.”
His apology twisted inside her like a knife. “It’s not your fault,” she sobbed. “It’s me.”
What kind of a mess was she that she couldn’t even let a man do something thoughtful for her without having to apologize for it? She cried harder, unable to contain years of loneliness and grief.
The old wounds were supposed to be healed by now. Maybe not completely, but enough so that while the scars might ache from time to time, they wouldn’t reopen.
She’d always thought if she avoided her family, she wouldn’t have to face the old pain. She couldn’t believe she’d gotten it so wrong.
“Kerri, tell me how to fix it,” Ethan whispered against her hair, his hands stroking her back gently. “I’ll take care of it.”
“You can’t,” she said. “Nobody can fix it.”
> His arms tightened around her.
“It’s me, don’t you get it?” she said. “It’s me.”
“I don’t understand.”
“If I hadn’t been born, everyone would’ve been happy.”
There, she’d said it. Something she’d always known deep inside but hadn’t dared to voice out loud.
Ethan’s entire body stiffened. “What?”
She dropped her gaze to the hardwood floor and gently pulled away from him. A lifetime of disappointment and despair wrapped around her and she hugged herself, clenching her jaw to stop her teeth from chattering.
“My mother was always so grim around big holidays.” Her voice grew hoarse and unrecognizable; she cleared her throat. “Thanksgiving. Christmas. Then I noticed she also acted strange on certain dates, like June third or July seventeenth, which I later learned were my brothers’ birthdays. But the worst day of all was my birthday. Mom was always inconsolable, crying too much to even answer the phone. I remember one year when the housekeeper had to call a doctor to come over and sedate her. She was that out of her mind with grief.” Kerri closed her eyes. “The grandparents on my dad’s side were gone by the time I was born, but my mother’s family never sent anything, not even a card, for my birthday.” She squeezed her eyes closed as fresh tears formed. “I knew something was wrong. All my friends were so happy on their birthdays. Their parents visited and took them to Disneyland or something. Bought them gifts, sent them cake, made them feel special. But not my mother.” She swallowed a big lump rising up in her throat as the old memories she’d tried to forget resurfaced to torment her. “Then one day… It was during the summer vacation before I went to college. I was looking for something—I don’t remember what—and I found some boxes in the attic. They were full of stuff for two little boys.” And old article clippings and photo albums. Her hands had shaken so badly she’d barely been able to read them. “My brothers, Ned and Adam. My older brothers…if they had lived. But they died on the day I was born. Dad, too.” Hysteria and grief welled up inside her. “Actually…they died because I was born.”