Free Fated Souls by Becky Flade

class was a huge step backward. And the necessity of raising a child and working full time was beneath her. She let me know without any compunction on a daily basis that her station in life was far above what she’d been saddled with, and that somehow was my fault.
    “When I was fourteen, she met a very rich man with whom she fell very quickly and deeply in love.” Though Maggie had managed to keep a conversational tone throughout, sarcasm wormed its way into her voice and she couldn’t help it. “Only he had a firm no-child policy and told her he wouldn’t marry her until after I’d left for college. Son of a bitch, or Joel as he’s known to his face, meant it and kept his word. My relationship with my mother deteriorated further. I was gifted with the deed to the house when I graduated from high school and they married two weeks later; I was invited as a guest.
    “At the reception, Joel took me aside and explained that marrying my mother was a huge risk for him because of the scandal attached to our family name, but that the public perception that she, and by extension I, were victims was her saving grace. And he loved her so much he was willing to take on the burden of a stepchild. As though my mother hadn’t told me every day for four years that if not for me she’d be Joel’s wife. Whatever. Then he advised that if I ever did anything to cause him any embarrassment, I’d find my mother’s pampered ass on my doorstep. As an incentive to keep out of trouble, he’d pay for college with the understanding that I’d be expected to pay him back. I thanked him, wished him and my mother the best of luck, and told him not to worry about my tuition, I had it covered.
    “I sold the house to pay for school. When I graduated I got a very nice congratulatory card from Mother and Joel, written by her personal assistant, and a portfolio of the all-expense paid tour of Europe that was my reward for four scandal-free years. My best friend got the exact same card and portfolio. I sent mine back; she cashed hers in. We took a weekend trip to Cancun, used the rest to set ourselves up in an apartment, and I legally changed my name to Maggie O’Connell.” Maggie did open her eyes now and stared at Aidan, daring him to show her the pity she neither wanted nor needed. To his credit, though his eyes were sad, she saw no pity. “And that was the end of Anastasia Boyle.”
    “Why aren’t you angry or sad? How can you just be so matter-of-fact?” Aidan asked.
    “Easily, it is a matter of fact. Mrs. O’Connell and I never lost touch even though she returned to Ireland after we lost everything. The family next to ours, my best friend’s family, raised me during the eight years I was stuck living with just my mother. They kissed my hurts, paddled my behind, and held my hair out of my face when I was sick. I was loved. I still am.” Maggie drained the mimosa and laid her head back. “A lot of other children had it way worse than I did.”
    “You are an amazing woman, Maggie O’Connell.” Aidan was staring, she could feel it.
    “Nah.” She denied the compliment with a wave of her hand. “I’m just a woman hoping my revelations will encourage you to open up a little.”
    “What do you want to know?”
    Maggie laughed, her eyes popping open, before she gurgled, “Oh Aidan, what a loaded question that is.” He blushed, which Maggie found endearing. She decided the furry truth could wait a little longer — they both knew she knew, he’d as well as admitted it yesterday in the stable — what she wanted now was to know the why and how of it. But that, too, could wait. “How about you tell me something you won’t mind my knowing?”

Chapter Eight
    Maggie waited while he decided what he wanted to tell her and how he wanted to say it. “My mother raised me alone. I never knew who my father was; all she’d say when I asked was that he had given her the best gift ever: her little boy. She never dated; literally, not once