We talk for another hour, and it’s decided Ladd and I will fly to El Salvador in the morning using a private charter plane. I already have a good set of fake credentials, and Bebe leaves the room to get to work on creating a set for Ladd to match mine. We’ll be traveling as a husband and wife on vacation.

  We discuss a few more things on the technical side, and Dozer assures us we’ll have top-of-the-line support. When we’re finished and everyone disperses, Ladd advises me, “We’re going to my house in a few hours to grab Ethan and so I can pack. Then we’ll take him to Britney’s. You can hang out upstairs in the communal living area on the fourth floor until we’re ready to go.”

  “Actually, is there a drugstore within walking distance?” I ask.

  Ladd shakes his head. “There’s nothing any good within walking distance of this building. We’re in a dead zone in Pittsburgh. What do you need?”

  “I want to change my appearance. When we find Mejia, I don’t want to make it easy for him to recognize me. He thinks I’m a blond. I thought I’d buy some hair color, and then later tonight, if you don’t mind, you can cut it.”

  Ladd looks horrified at the idea. “I’ll take you right now to get some color and you can do it upstairs. But I’ll have Britney cut your hair. No way I’m doing it.”

  “No way,” I say, echoing his sentiments. “She’s not cutting my hair.”

  Ladd frowns. “Why not?”

  Because it would be completely weird to have your ex-wife cutting my hair, much less talking to her.

  Instead, I merely say, “I don’t want to impose. Especially since she’s pregnant.”

  Ladd waves off my concern. “She’ll be happy to do it.”

  Somehow I don’t doubt that. They seem to have an abnormally functional relationship for two divorced people. “Can she cut hair?”

  Ladd shrugs. “Used to cut mine just fine.”

  I hate the flush of jealousy that rockets through me … images of his wife doing something as intimate as cutting her lover’s hair.

  That could’ve been me.

  “I guarantee you she’s better than me,” Ladd says as an afterthought.

  “Better at doing what?” I ask stupidly, having lost the thread of our conversation while trying to wade through that green jealousy swamp.

  Ladd frowns again and seems concerned about me. “She’s going to be better at cutting your hair than I would be,” he drawls slowly, as if I’m a second grader who needs it spelled out at an understandable speed.

  My cheeks feel hot with embarrassment. “Oh yeah… right.”

  But I might as well just give in to it. It will be my penance for making such an awful mistake with Ladd all those years ago.

  CHAPTER 13

  Greer

  While my adrenaline was pumping when my house was broken into a few nights ago, I wasn’t nervous. Rather, I was calm and collected because I had been trained to react that way.

  As we get closer to Ladd’s house—where I’ll be meeting his son and ex-wife—I feel like I’m going to vomit.

  For all these years, Ladd has remained my ultimate fantasy. He represented everything that had the potential to be good in my life. He was a potent reminder of all the things I wanted to give him but found out it was too late to do so.

  Now, just by the occasion of meeting his son and ex-wife, I’m going to have a peek into the potential life I missed out on. The life I could have had if I’d looked deeper into my heart and figured out my shit a bit quicker.

  But, I lost it. It’s my own fault. I have berated myself over and over again throughout the years for making the biggest mistake of my life and letting Ladd go. Even so, I had at least reconciled the fact that was part of my past life and that I could only look forward, without any preconceived notions, to whatever the future may hold. There’s no doubt in my mind that when I meet Ethan, I’ll wonder what type of son Ladd and I could’ve had.

  When I meet Britney—whose name has already caused some bias as I’m expecting a pop-princess type—I’m going to feel bitter about the happiness she once had with Ladd. Because even though they’re no longer together, there was a time when they loved each other, very deeply. Otherwise Ladd never would’ve married her. And now they have a forever bond through their son.

  Ladd lives in an older neighborhood off a two-lane mountain road in Upper St. Clair twenty-five minutes from Jameson’s downtown HQ. The lots are big and surrounded by hardwoods that, had they been bearing leaves, would act as a privacy screen to the houses on either side.

  In the tail end of winter, the leaves are gone and a light flurry of snow falls. Ladd had mentioned that it’s supposed to get heavier later on, so we discussed the possibility of flying out tonight to avoid traffic issues tomorrow. With a quick call to Kynan, we were told that the private jet service Jameson uses can be ready to go with just a few hours’ notice.

  Up ahead in the driveway sit two black Suburbans with tinted windows, blatantly obvious they belong to Jameson. Just inside the two-story brick home, I know there will be not only the agents who picked up Ethan from school but Ladd’s son himself, and I’m going to be meeting him soon. My palms are slick with sweat, and I’m irritated with myself that I’m so nervous.

  He’s just a kid. Ladd said he was sweet and funny, so I truly have nothing to fear other than my own inner turmoil of facing a life that could have been mine. It will bring more self-flagellation over my stupidity, and I know I’m going to have moments of longing for a life that should’ve been mine, but I was too afraid to take the risk.

  “… Miami and then head out from there,” Ladd says. I jolt with awareness he’s talking to me and that I’ve missed out on the majority of what he said.

  “Say again?” I prod as he pulls in front of a two-car garage.

  Turning off the vehicle and unlatching his seat belt, he looks across the center console at me. He doesn’t seem irritated to have to repeat something that was probably important.

  Instead, his eyes move over my newly dyed hair, a chocolate brown as close to my original color as I could estimate. I’ve been blond for over a year, and it was shocking to see the transformation back into myself. Same color as my mother’s hair and more suited in both color and tone to my olive skin, also inherited from my mother.

  Ladd stares for so long I become self-conscious and push my hair behind my ears. This is the longest it’s ever been, and I want to cut it, not only to disguise myself from Mejia but also because I usually wear my hair just above my shoulders. Not too long to make me hot, but long enough to pull into a ponytail should I need to get rid of the distraction of it when working out or during missions.

  “Miami?” I say, trying to spark Ladd out of his perusal.

  He blinks once and says, “We need to leave before the snow gets too heavy. I don’t want to chance the roads closing and delaying our departure.”

  “Okay,” I reply, not having any argument against this idea. It’s smart.

  “Britney will be here soon. She can cut your hair, and it won’t take me long to pack.”

  “Okay,” I repeat, my stomach turning over on itself at the prospect of meeting his ex-wife, who, by all accounts, is perfectly nice according to her ex-husband, but who had something that I’ve coveted for years.

  Ladd’s stare intensifies, lines creasing his forehead. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” I exclaim confidently. “Of course.”

  His beautiful eyes turn hard, slightly icy. “I need your head in the game, Greer. If you can’t do this, I’ll go down and take care of Mejia myself. You can stay here.”

  That offends me on a level deeper than the unexplored parts of the ocean. My own tone is glacial. “I’m ready for this, and you either trust me or you don’t. But if you don’t, chances are you’re going to get me killed.”

  Ladd’s face flushes with anger, but he doesn’t respond, instead opening his car door and exiting the Jeep. He doesn’t wait for me, slamming the door behind him, and I scramble out to catch up.

  I’m just hitting the porch steps when he’s pushing the front door open and walking in, not bothering to wait for me or make an official welcome into his home. I step into the foyer and close the door behind me. A lump forms in my throat when a beautiful, blond-haired boy—obviously his child—flies into his arms.

  “Hey, buddy.” Ladd gives his son a hard hug before setting him down.

  “Cage said you’re leaving on an assignment,” Ethan exclaims, his expression worried. That touches me. He’s clearly of an age to know some peril can be at play with his father’s job.

  A man comes out of the kitchen, a half-eaten apple in hand, and leans against the entryway. Ethan’s expression cuts to him. I’m assuming this is Cage.

  Ladd looks to him, a silent demand for a report, and Cage obliges. “I’ve got Brendan and Mickey walking perimeter. No sign of anything.”

  Throwing his thumb over his shoulder at me, Ladd says, “That’s Greer.”

  Cage smiles, and although I’ve figured out his name, he nods and says, “Cage.”

  “Nice to meet you.” The words are hard to get out as Ladd doesn’t make an official introduction between me and his son, and fuck, if that doesn’t hurt. But it’s obviously coming from a place within that still doesn’t like me very much.

  But I’m going to correct the oversight. I lean around Ladd to make eye contact with the boy. “Hi. You must be Ethan. I’m Greer.”

  There’s not a shy bone in his body. He smiles in welcome. “Are you my dad’s partner on this mission?”

  “I am,” I reply with a return smile. “I’ll keep him safe for you.”

  Some boys might sneer at a woman keeping their father safe, but Ethan says, “Cool. All the Jameson agents are badass.”

  Before I can correct his wrong assumption as to being a Jameson agent, Ladd ruffles the boy’s hair. “Hey… language, buddy.”

  “Sorry,” Ethan mutters with a duck of his head, but his eyes twinkle, and I know he’s not sorry at all.

  “Come on upstairs,” Ladd says, draping his arm around Ethan’s shoulders. “You can help me pack and I’ll tell you what’s going on.”

  Not once does Ladd acknowledge me, but I watch them both ascend the stairs until they’re out of sight.

  “You’re former CIA, huh?” Cage says.

  I turn my attention to him, and he takes a big bite of his apple. “Yeah.”

  He chews for a moment, studying me shrewdly. When he swallows, he asks, “What’s the deal with you and Ladd? He says y’all were engaged a long time ago. Why didn’t y’all get married?”

  It’s not hard to peg that Cage is probably from the South. Not only does he have a slight accent but his use of the contraction “y’all” is a dead giveaway.

  His blunt inquiry surprises me as southerners are stereotyped as being more well-mannered, and not obnoxiously nosy. I had no clue that Ladd told anyone about our history. I’m at a loss as to how to respond, because the reasons are very complex and still an embarrassment to me.

  So I offer a vague response. “We were just at different points in our lives. Wanted different things.”

  Cage’s tone is bland but clearly protective of Ladd. “And that wasn’t something you could’ve figured out before accepting his proposal?” he asks pointedly.

  I try to tamp down the anger and hurt his veiled accusation causes. I don’t know this man, but he’s clearly loyal to Ladd. He’s put the failure of us to commit squarely on my plate, and while it’s mostly true, I could tell him the ways in which Ladd made it difficult for me to compromise.

  I don’t, though, because it’s not worth it. I doubt I’ll be in this guy’s presence much longer.

  The door behind me opens, and a rush of cold air hits my back, despite the North Face jacket I have on. I turn and see Ladd’s ex-wife, Britney, walking in.

  She huffs out a long breath and stamps her feet on the foyer rug, shutting the door with a laugh. “Man, it’s getting cold out there.”

  She doesn’t seem to have changed a bit since I saw her ten years ago. Her face is as beautiful and youthful as it was when I first saw her being helped out of Ladd’s car in their driveway. She’s even sporting a very pregnant belly again. A child—something I didn’t want once upon a time and wasn’t able to give Ladd all those years ago. I was so focused on my career, the concept of children seemed alien to my entire being.

  Britney’s mouth breaks into a wide smile showcasing perfect teeth as her eyes alight on me. “You must be Greer.”

  Taking off her glove, she offers a beautifully manicured hand, and I shake it. “I’m Britney. I will apparently be your stylist today.”

  She laughs again, a gentle tinkling of amusement at herself, and I can tell just within these few seconds of meeting her that she’s a genuinely nice person.

  It makes it easy to smile back. “It’s good to meet you, Britney. And thank you for agreeing to cut my hair. I was just going to have Ladd do it, but he assured me it would be the biggest mistake of my life.”

  She laughs again and then gives her attention briefly to Cage. She leans forward and gives him a tiny, playful punch in the stomach. “How are you and Jaime doing? All secrets out on the table?”

  Cage snorts as he pushes off the doorjamb. Clearly there’s an inside joke I don’t get. “Let’s just say Jaime knows things about me that even I don’t know.”

  Britney winks at the man. “You make sure to treat her right. She’s a gem.”

  “Don’t I know it.” Cage takes another bite of his apple and moves past us out the door.

  When it closes, Britney turns to me brightly. “I’m not a professional hairdresser or anything. I just happen to have a bit of artistic talent. What would you like me to do for you?”

  I hover my hand just above my shoulder. “Straight across, right about here.”

  Britney beams. “I can totally do that without messing it up.”

  Within a few minutes, Britney has me in a kitchen chair. She knew right where the linen closet was and has draped a towel over my shoulders. I ask about her pregnancy, and she chatters about it, occasionally rubbing her back while she gets out a pair of scissors from the utility drawer, as well as a broom and dustpan.

  When she’s behind me with shears in hand, she asks, “Are you sure you want me to take off this much? Your hair is gorgeous.”

  “I’m sure. I normally wear it shorter.”

  “So be it.” Britney runs a brush through my hair, then picks up the first lock, and I hear a snip.

  She drops it to the floor and takes another small lock.

  Snip.

  She repeats it several more times in silence, and I’m almost lulled into a spot where I can think about our upcoming mission when Britney says, “So… you’re the one who got away.”

  I jerk so forcefully that my head pulls away from Britney just as I hear another snip, and I know I screwed up that particular clipping.

  I lean forward in the chair and turn around to look at her over my shoulder. “Excuse me?”

  Britney smiles, warmly and without rancor. “You’re the one who got away from Ladd.”

  She says it so matter-of-factly and with such confidence, I’m thinking she’s not guessing.

  “Did Ladd tell you that?” I demand.

  She shakes her head, her own gorgeous blond locks falling over her shoulders. “Not at all. He only told me he had to go on a mission with a former CIA partner, that it would be dangerous and that he was doing it outside of government oversight. I always knew there was someone he worked with long before I ever came along who had his heart. I’m thinking it’s you.”

  “You’re wrong,” I say flatly. “His heart was never mine to keep.”

  Britney’s smile does not falter, and her expression is knowing.

  Irritating.

  “You’re the one who’s wrong,” she says simply. “Ladd may have never told me about you specifically, but he was truthful when we decided to divorce. We went to counseling, and we spoke honestly. He told me there was a woman in his past who ruined him. While that’s not what he or I blamed our divorce on, it played a part in his inability to move forward.”

  A wave of guilt crashes over me, and I shrink away from Britney. I’m ashamed that I messed things up for Ladd and this incredibly kind woman.

  She waves her hand as if I shouldn’t give any credence to what she just said, and I’m confused all over again. “Those were Ladd’s words,” she explains. “I personally think they were a bit dramatic. You didn’t ruin him at all. Ladd is too strong for that. But he loved you so much, it made it impossible for him to love me to the same extent. We only get one of those people in our lifetimes, I believe.”

  She’s talking about soul mates, and I agree with her. There’s only been one for me, and that’s Ladd. Was I the same for him?

  The room seems to spin as I try to comprehend what she’s telling me, as I try to process that this virtual stranger appears to know more about my failed relationship with Ladd than I do.

  I want to deny every bit of this. I even consider telling her that she has me mistaken for someone else. Giving legitimacy to her words means there might be hope, and I don’t have that within me.

  Instead, all I can do is apologize for my actions and the consequences they brought to their marriage. “I’m sorry. I did him wrong, and I didn’t think it would affect anyone other than myself and Ladd.”

  Britney shrugs and makes a motion for me to turn around. I do so slowly, and she orders me to scoot back toward her, which I do.

  Her tone is light and airy, peppered with humor. “Please don’t think I’m mad at you. Sure, it would be easy to stab you in the neck with these scissors, but truly… I’m an incredibly happy woman. I love my husband, Ben, more than I ever thought it was possible to love a human being. He’s my soul mate, but of course, I still love Ladd.”

  My body gives me away with another visible jolt, and Britney admonishes me. “Hold still before I cut you inadvertently.”