“You aren’t wrong.” Her insight was uncanny, which was remarkable considering they’d only known each other for two months. He did do that, but it was simply his personality. He was far less likely to make a mistake if he took in all available information first before formulating a plan or making a decision. Being precise and measured always paid off. And the times when he hadn’t done that, the times when he’d followed his heart without thinking too much, he’d ultimately paid a steep price.
“What about Delia’s mother? Miranda told me a little bit about her. I’m so sorry.”
Just like that, whatever happiness he was feeling about having this effortless back-and-forth with Astrid went up in thin air. He had to wonder what his sister had been thinking when she’d shared details of his personal life with Astrid. “Next topic.” He didn’t want to be cruel and cut her off, but he also didn’t want to explain what had happened. How does a man go about illustrating the greatest rejection of his life? That would only lead to more questions. His marriage was contained in Pandora’s box, and he wanted it kept closed.
“I knew I’d hit a dead end with you, eventually.”
He had to turn this around—he couldn’t take any more tension between them. Not with the nervousness of the awards show ahead. “What about you? Why don’t you tell me more about you? I don’t know much other than that you and my sister both married the same man.”
“I thought I talked too much about me. That’s basically what you said ten minutes ago.”
“But what about your childhood? Your upbringing? You don’t talk much about that at all. What were you like as a child?” He could imagine Astrid as the ingenue, sweet and girly, wearing pink dresses and dreaming up fantastical ideas in her head.
“I don’t really like to talk about myself as a little girl. I did not have an easy childhood.”
This was not something he’d anticipated. Astrid’s generosity had made him assume that she’d had an easy upbringing and a nurturing home life. Where else could that have come from? And to think he’d always assumed they had little to nothing in common. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
She turned to him and he stole a quick glance, then returned his eyes to the road. Even in that split second, he saw an ocean of vulnerability in her eyes. It only made him want to save her from whatever hurt was bottled up inside her. “No. I will tell you. It’s only fair, since you told me about Delia.” She cleared her throat and wrapped her arms around her waist. “I am the youngest of six kids and the only girl in the family. I spent my entire childhood trying to get the attention of my father and brothers, but all they wanted to do was to push me aside to keep me safe.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad. It’s natural for anyone to want to protect the most vulnerable member of the family. As the youngest and the only girl, I’m sure they saw you that way.”
“I didn’t want to spend my life on a high shelf, like a china teacup. All I ever wanted was to be included.” She went on to explain that she used to dress like her brothers, in jeans and sweatshirts, and she begged them to let her play football with them. Her mother, who had wanted a sixth child only so they could try for a girl, had been hoping she could finally have a heavy dose of feminine trappings in the household after years of being the only woman, but Astrid wanted nothing to do with it. It caused friction with all members of the family.
“A lot of times, I felt like an intruder in my own home. I never belonged,” she said, again shifting in her seat. “And that extended to school. The boys thought I was ugly and only a few of the girls wanted to be my friend.”
“Ugly? You have got to be kidding.” There wasn’t an un-beautiful bone in Astrid’s body. She was nothing less than pure grace and refinement, like she’d walked out of a portrait in a museum. “You must have just gone through an awkward phase. That happens to everyone.”
“Until I was eighteen? That’s a long time.”
“What happened when you turned eighteen?”
“I went to university and figured out that if I stopped hiding under bulky sweaters, boys would pay attention to me.”
Clay swallowed, finding it hard to get past the tightness in his throat. The thought of her revealing herself in the interest of drawing the male gaze did something to him. “But you became a model. You walked runways and were on the covers of magazines, right? That must have felt like a triumph. You showed them all that they were wrong.”
She sucked in a deep breath and cast her sights out the window. “Maybe. But it didn’t change who I was for all of the years before that happened. I still feel like that awkward girl a lot of the time.”
“Even now?” If only she could see the way he saw her—flawless and composed. A woman to be admired, and quite possibly reckoned with.
“Even now.” Astrid shifted in her seat again. “Honestly, your sister made me feel like that at first. It was hard to be around her and know that she was ultimately what my ex-husband wanted, all because I had fallen short of his expectations.”
“Miranda was also robbed of her future with Johnathon, so I don’t know how much there is in her situation to envy.”
“She has his baby. That’s no small thing.” Astrid’s voice cracked, and Clay felt as though the earth had shifted beneath him. The heartache Miranda had told him about was very real. And against his better judgment, there was a big part of him that wanted nothing more than to take all of
