The Billionaire's Matchmaker(52)

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Mia asked. A note of distrust rang in her tone.

“I’m telling you now.”

She looked slightly annoyed. “When do you close?”

“The paperwork still needs to be processed and their mortgage approved, but if all goes as planned, we’ll close in thirty days.”

“Thirty days,” she repeated. “That’s so soon.”

She looked miserable. Perversely, his spirits lifted.

When she ducked her head again, Gid reached over and tucked the hair behind her ears so he could see her face better. “You still haven’t answered my question, Mia.”

“I…I don’t have an answer for you,” she replied, which Gid supposed beat the hell out of a definitive no. Still…

“Do you love me?

At one time, he had been sure he knew her answer, even if she’d never said the actual words. Just as, at one time, he’d thought he’d known what her answer to his proposal would be. Now he held his breath and waited. Everything was riding on what she said next.

…

Mia’s first instinct was to get up and dash out of the room. When it came to fight or flight, she preferred the latter. It had served her well, or so she’d thought. But running away in this case wouldn’t solve anything. Had it ever solved anything? It was time to face life head on. To grab hold of it rather than let go and move on.

“You never asked about my past,” she said quietly.

“Wh—what?”

“My past. You’ve never asked me about it. Even after we first met and I told you that I didn’t have a family and had spent most of my childhood in foster care. You never pressed me on how I got there.” She glanced up, held his gaze. “Why?”

“I figured you’d tell me when you were ready.”

But she’d never been ready. Sharing her physical space, even sharing her body, those were easy. Sharing her past? Her fears? Opening up her heart to the possibility of not only loving someone else but being loved in return? That was the hard part.

Was she ready now?

Marney’s advice whispered through Mia’s mind, telling her to listen to the very heart she was worried would be broken.

“My parents were drug addicts,” she began. When her voice cracked, she cleared her throat and continued. “From what I was told, they started out as just your basic potheads. We lived in a trailer park. They were young. Younger than I am now. Neither one of them had a high school diploma, but they managed to lead a relatively stable existence until I was about four years old. That’s when my dad got into meth and introduced my mom to it. Their lives spiraled out of control soon after.”

How different Mia’s life might be if their lives hadn’t.

Gid didn’t say anything, but he reached for her hand. It wasn’t pity she saw reflected in his eyes, or disgust—had she really believed she would see either?—instead she saw sympathy and anger on her behalf. Bolstered, she went on, unearthing memories she had buried long ago, determined never to revisit them.

“When my mom was high, she wanted to stay that way. Coming down made her sad and desperate. It made my dad…mean. I was in kindergarten the first time social workers came and removed me from my home.” The words came out dully, although the pain behind them remained surprisingly sharp, even after all these years. “I showed up at school one Monday morning with a black eye, my clothes filthy. Except for some stale bread, I hadn’t eaten since the free lunch the Friday before. I remember my mom crying, promising to change. She and my dad had to get clean and attend parenting classes in order to get me back. They did.

“Six months later, I was returned to them. But it didn’t last. One started using and the other followed suit. My dad got better at hitting me in places where the bruises wouldn’t show. But I was removed again. I was in first grade that time. I spent Christmas with a foster family. I liked them. The mom smelled like vanilla cookies and the dad had a laugh that reminded me of Santa Claus. I’d just started to feel settled when my parents got their crap together a second time and regained custody of me.

“Once again I had to adjust to a new school and make new friends. I was doing okay. Overall, I was happy to be home. Can you believe that?” Her mouth twisted.

Gid squeezed her hand. “Yes. Children love their parents, even parents who don’t deserve it.”

“I suppose. They stayed clean for nearly a year. While I’d been in foster care, my mom earned her GED. She was working nights cleaning offices. My dad was doing some construction work, probably paid under the table. I thought maybe this time…” She swallowed. “Then one night while my mom was at work, my dad came in and woke me up. He said we were going for a drive. He took me to a party store not far from our trailer, and pulled around to where the Dumpsters were in the back. A man was waiting there. I remember being scared, begging my dad to take me home.”

Her breathing hitched and a tear leaked down her cheek. Even now, years removed, the fear she’d experienced, the betrayal, cut her to the quick.

“Mia, you don’t have to—”

But she did. She understood that now. Not only did she have to say it, he needed to hear it. All of it, every last ugly secret she’d kept from him. She’d never be truly free otherwise. Free to love.