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My face heats. My pulse thunders in my ears. I stumble back, my vision blurring as tears fill my eyes. How could he? How dare he?
“Hey beautiful!” The sound of Olwydd’s voice snaps me out of my spiral. I whirl around to see his face lit up with a dazzling grin.
“You look gorgeous this morning. I was thinking, after work today, we could grab your stuff from the dorm and–"
He stops abruptly when he notices my expression.
I’m trembling with rage and hurt. It takes me a moment to find my voice.
“Grab my stuff? Move in with you? Not a chance!” I’m probably shouting. I don’t know. I don’t care either. I’m too blinded by humiliation to tell. “I’ll move in with you when hell freezes over.”
Olwydd's expression morphs from joy to confusion to horror in the span of seconds. His eyes flick to the computer screen behind me, and understanding dawns.
"Oh, fuck," he breathes.
Yeah. Oh, fuck, buddy.
I don’t know how, but I manage to calm myself enough to say icily, “When Amlawdd finishes constructing the props, he can drop them off to Principal Colywnn. I'd rather not have to look at your face."
I shoulder past him and storm out, leaving a crestfallen Olwydd in my wake.
I thought I'd finally found a place where I could start over, where my past couldn't haunt me. How could I have been so stupid?
***
The other women are chatting and sipping a Colombian brew when I arrive, steaming mug in hand, for our morning coffee klatch. I must be wearing my emotions because they fall silent as I approach.
"Whoa, who peed in your Cheerios?" Steph blurts out, ever the queen of tact.
I slump into a chair and take a long gulp from my mug. It scalds my tongue, but I barely notice. "Olwydd and I are through," I announce flatly.
A chorus of gasps and exclamations follow as they pepper me with questions until finally, I spill, telling them about finding the files on Olwydd's computer.
“All my personal information.” My voice cracks, and to my horror, a tear leaks out and flows down my cheeks.
“I understand you’re upset.” Kiki leans forward, her brow furrowed. "But does it really matter that Olwydd looked you up? That he knows? You weren’t planning on keeping it a secret forever, were you?”
"YES!" I explode, then deflate just as quickly. "No. I don't know. I can’t help it that you all know. I just... I didn't want anyone else here in Grotto to know. Ever."
I can see they have more questions, but no one says a word. They’re probably afraid I’ll go off on them if they do, and I can’t say they’re wrong.
I’m itching for validation, though, so I take a few deep breaths before trying to explain. “When I first got here, it felt so good to step out of that shadow of shame," I whisper, wiping my eyes. "To not have my every move dissected and vilified by thecourt of public opinion. The last thing I was interested in was a relationship. I thought I'd just wait out the 30 days, use it as a vacation, a chance to catch a breather. I never planned on..."
I gesture vaguely around me. “Suddenly having everything I ever wanted. A job I love, Olwydd, the chance at a family and a future… I felt free, like a new person given a second chance.”
A heavy silence falls over our little group. I stare into my coffee mug, wishing I could drown myself in its caffeinated depths.
Finally, Deborah speaks up attempting to comfort me. "When you say that we all know about your past, we don't really. We only know what the media chose to portray.”
“But we don’t believe it,” Steph adds.
Kiki nods emphatically. “Trust me, as someone who's been in the spotlight, I know better than to believe anything the media claims."
My stomach churns as the memories I've tried so hard to bury claw their way to the surface. They’re like a poison, and for so long I’ve been choking on the poison, swallowing it back down every time it tried to come up. Right now, among these women who I’ve only known for a few days, I feel the need to purge myself. So I do.
I take a deep breath, and begin. "I met Jacob Houghton shortly after my mother died.” My voice is barely above a whisper. "I was having trouble coping, and a coworker suggested I see her pastor for counseling."
Words tumble out of me like a dam breaking. I tell them about the love bombing, the lavish gifts, the secret rendezvous. "Looking back, I'm so embarrassed by how naive I was. I shouldhave at least Googled him." Shame colors my cheeks. "I had no idea he was married with three kids. “Not until an investigative reporter caught us and set my world on end.”
