And then remembered with a burst of tension.

  Annie.

  Calling, not texting.

  “It’s Seth,” he answered, somewhat stupidly, as soon as his fumbling fingers could get the phone out and open. “What’s wrong?”

  If she’d lost those babies... Grief grabbed him, started tearing through the muscles in his heart.

  “Nothing. Just...can you talk for a second?”

  Nothing. It took a moment for him to absorb the cool relief coming over him. Nothing was wrong.

  “Of course,” he told her, sitting back at his desk, gathering his wits back about him. It was just because he’d been so absorbed in the work, keeping track of all of the threads that had to come together for the argument to carry weight, that he’d overreacted.

  He waited for her to talk.

  Silence hung on the line. They’d perfected that one, hanging wordlessly around each other.

  Because there was still so much they could say to each other—most of which couldn’t be said between them. Not anymore.

  He could care, but he couldn’t be warm or get closer. He could have compassion but had to keep it on an intellectual level.

  Neither of them would survive anything more. In retrospect, maybe they’d been fools to think that Annie could use their embryos and have the world continue to spin normally on its axis.

  “Talk to me, Annie.” He couldn’t just leave her hanging there until she hung up. He was afraid she would and then he wouldn’t know what she needed.

  “I should probably just go.”

  “Probably. But tell me first why you called.”

  “I’m scared. I still haven’t told anyone but my captain and Christa about the babies. I’ve just been wearing loose shirts, and with it being colder, my thigh-length sweater as a coat and that adds another layer.”

  “You’re afraid to tell people you’re pregnant?” He knew that wasn’t what she’d meant. Had no idea why he’d asked the inane question. Maybe to buy himself a second while he settled back down after her I’m scared. It wasn’t his place to go into immediate rescue mode.

  Not with her. Not anymore.

  And yet everything in him had clenched when he’d heard those two words. I’m scared.

  Annie didn’t get scared. And certainly didn’t admit it if she did.

  “I’m afraid of the amnio,” she said. “I know it’s necessary. I know, statistically, there’s less risk with waiting until the fifteenth week... I know I’m making everything worse by thinking about it so much. I really should go.”

  “No. Wait.” He couldn’t leave her there alone, not like that. “Maybe if we just talk about it a minute or two,” he said. “Get everything out so that it’s not just rattling around inside your head...”

  “You’re the only one who really knows what this means to me, Seth. And... I’m scared to death I’m going to miscarry. I know the percentages are small, but it does happen and...”

  “You’ve got extra embryos.” The words flew out without thought attached. He heard them. Groaned silently. “I’m not making light of any loss that could occur,” he quickly stated. “And I hope and pray that the babies come through just fine, as they most likely will. I’m just reminding you, Annie, that your entire life isn’t wrapped up in just one chance. Look bigger. Further.”

  As he said the words, more flowed. Because he knew her. Knew how, when she couldn’t find her peace, she tended to focus on a problem until it seemed like the whole of her world, in her effort to handle it.

  “Look beyond for a second,” she said softly, and he had to swallow. Hard. He used to tell her that. When one or the other of them was going to be away and she’d be afraid that something would happen to prevent them from coming back together, or she’d be focusing on how horribly lonely she’d be, he’d tell her to look beyond. Look beyond the separation. Or, when bills piled up, to look beyond the money worries. Look beyond... There was always more life out there. More good that would come.

  When grief overwhelmed her after another period came, he’d tell her to look beyond. They had another month right ahead, another ovulation coming right up. More chances to try.

  Look beyond just long enough to get out of panic mode, and then she’d be able to deal with whatever she faced.

  He’d learned the coping mechanism as a kid, when either of his parents had been called out on a dangerous case. And then, when the worst happened, after his mother had died...he had to look beyond that time in his life, that moment when he’d answered the door, that emptiness, toward his own contribution to make the world a better place.

  “The more you focus on the fear, the greater it will grow,” he told her.

  “So why couldn’t you focus less on the fear, Seth?” The question came softly. “Why did your fear have to end our marriage?”

  He’d asked himself the question more times than he could count. Never found an answer, just kept asking. Until, eventually, he’d quit asking.

  “I don’t know.” But, sitting there, his emotions raw, maybe he did. “Would you want every day to be like the day before an amnio?” he asked her, thinking out loud as much as anything. “Would you want to work that hard within yourself to not think about what could happen? And then still have moments of panic when the fear took root behind your back and slugged you one?”

  “No.”

  Everyone had fears. He imagined most every spouse of every law enforcement officer did. But in his case, having had the worst happen, having lived through the worst... He knew it firsthand so much more than most.

  That knowing had taken root inside him. And could instantly flower into paralyzing terror if challenged...

  “Would you want to live with someone who did have that sense that every single day was like the day before an amnio where you were concerned?”

  “No.”

  Vindication didn’t bring any comfort. Just as going to therapy and being told that some residual emotional effect from his mother’s death would always be with him, embedded in his psyche, and he couldn’t be blamed for that, hadn’t made him feel any better at all.

  Still, there were always going to be days before amnios in life. You hoped they were few and far between, but they’d be there.

  And when they were...

  “How about I drive up tomorrow after work?” The question just felt right. “I can get a room, and we can have dinner someplace. Find distraction where we can—and you’ll be with someone who’s going through it with you, someone who knows your battle, for those moments when distraction doesn’t work.”

  “That’s not fair to you.”

  “Why not? You think I don’t have something at stake here? That’s my stuff you’re growing there, too, you know.” He tried for light. It fell flat, but he was still glad he’d tried when she chuckled.

  “It’ll be time out of time, Annie. It’s very clear we both know the score where you and I are concerned. These past couple of months have shown us that. We made the right choice ten years ago. We don’t belong together. But we can do this together. We can get you through a tough test as you work to bring our children into the world.”

  His words hung in the silence, but he stood with them. Weeks of just one text, checking on the babies, had paved the new way for them. She was the parent. He was the background support, called into action only when needed. Mirrored his job, too. It was what he was good at.

  “Annie? If you’d rather not, it’s not going to hurt my feelings. The offer stands if you want it.”

  “What do you think about just staying here?” she asked. “I’ve got a couple of extra bedrooms, one with its own bath. The worst is when it’s the middle of the night, the city’s asleep and the house feels so empty, like I’m the only one in the world...”

  It sounded as though she’d had many of those nights. All since the pregnancy? How much had she been suffering alone?

  She’d made no mention of her maternal biological family. The Whitakers. So he didn’t mention them, either...

  Stay at her house? She’d just invited him to spend the night with her. Sort of. He’d never even been to her house. So hard to grasp, considering that they’d once chosen everything about their home together. How much of her stuff would he recognize?

  If he went, that was.

  “If you’d rather not, that’s fine,” she said now. “Maybe it wasn’t a great idea. I apologize, Seth. Like I said, I have these bouts of fear, and absolutely don’t want them to lead me into making mistakes...”

  “I’ll stay,” he said, cutting her off. She’d made a small ask of the support he’d promised her. He knew his role and was confident he could fulfill this one. Would not let her down again. “We’re going to get you through this,” he told her. “Salvaging those embryos, giving you the family you’ve always wanted...it’s a way to make the past matter, in spite of how we ended up.”

  And he was getting too deep for their present. Feigning an urgency he didn’t feel for the research still awaiting him that night, he rang off.

  Finally feeling better about himself where Annie was concerned.

  * * *

  Seth had been right about one thing. Distraction helped keep panic at bay. And he had the ability to provide that distraction.

  All day Tuesday, while she oversaw her squad and reported to the captain, the random thoughts, which had lately been consumed by worry over the babies, were occupied with thoughts of the evening ahead.

  Thoughts of Seth.

  And how she was going to keep herself on track with him in her home. Overnight.

  She wanted him there.

  Too much.

  And that was the danger against which she must guard. As a law enforcement officer, she knew that the way to stay safe was to identify the hazard and protect against it. As long as you knew where the peril was, you’d likely be just fine.

  It was the unknown jeopardy that posed the most threat.

  Seth was not an unknown danger.

  Not anymore.

  And as a law enforcement officer, she didn’t shy away from danger. She met it head-on and dealt with it. Defused it.

  She was damned good at doing so.

  And by the time she met Seth at one of her favorite restaurants down by the beach, with tables overlooking the ocean, she was confident that she could handle whatever risk being with him posed to her. Which then allowed her to take the benefit he offered.

  A coping mechanism during the next twelve to fourteen hours, helping her manage her stress levels until she had the procedure that had become so problematic to her peace of mind.

  She’d worn her black pants—her favorites now, because of the elastic waistbands. Was happy with the way they hugged her hips and thighs. And had topped them with a black-and-white print shirt that hung to just below her crotch, allowing her to be able to quickly access the gun at her waist beneath the shirt, while hiding the bulk that was beginning to appear in her midsection. A knee-length black cardigan completed the outfit.

  Acknowledging the need to feel attractive, most particularly with Seth coming, she gave herself the allowance to build her confidence where she could. At thirty-eight, she wasn’t as young and firm as she’d been at twenty-eight, when he’d known her. And though she wasn’t at all flabby or sinking, either, she didn’t want to feel frumpy around him.

  Part of her needed him to know that what he’d given up had aged well. And because that superficial part of her was able to distract her from the stress, she allowed it some free rein.

  She saw his car as soon as she entered the lot. And knew that he’d been waiting for her, since he exited his car right after she pulled into a spot. He met her at the back of her car in black jeans and an off-white sweater that set off his blond hair and brooding blue eyes in a way that was far too delicious.

  His hair, always military-short, looked freshly cut. He also looked like his shoulders had filled out in the weeks since she’d seen him. Could just be the sweater.

  The moment when she realized she was taking in the sight of him as though hungry for it was the same moment she realized he was looking her over, as well.

  “I don’t think you’ve ever been more beautiful.” He said the words. She heard them. But barely. They’d been said softly, and were quickly followed by “You hungry?”

  “Famished.” A state she found herself in more often than not.

  He was right to pretend they hadn’t had their moment back there. Because it had meant nothing. A burp from the past.

  Seconds that had needed to escape and were now gone.

  He talked about a couple of his cases while they waited for dinner, giving overview basics that he was free to discuss. She outlined a few things her detectives were working on as they ate, one of which was another burglary, leaving out any details that would put the investigation at risk. Money and video games had been stolen, but Emilio hadn’t been anywhere near the vicinity.

  “We were right to believe in him,” she said, smiling over at him. They’d done something good together.

  When he smiled back, and she lost her appetite to the flood of warmth that filled her, she added shared smiles to the list of Seth-related dangers.

  As long as she was aware of them, knew where and what they were, wore her protective shell against them at all times, the dangers posed no threat.

  She knew herself. Knew him.

  And promised herself that they’d be just fine.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The second Seth walked into Annie’s house, he became no man in no man’s land. The home wasn’t his, and yet it felt like home. Some of the furniture, a chair and table in the living room, the bedroom set in the spare room, the desk in the office, had been in their former home together.

  He recognized her mother’s china hutch in a corner of the kitchen. He didn’t go inside Annie’s room, but saw a rocking chair in the corner of the master suite from the doorway as she pointed out her space. She’d had it in her room as a little girl. Would it be in the babies’ room next?

  If a girl was born, would that chair watch over her growing up as it had Annie’s?

  Where in the hell the fanciful thoughts came from, he didn’t know. Left them to no man, the guy who would be gone forever in a matter of hours.

  The tour of her place ended in the kitchen. She started to show him where things were, but he put his hand on the pull of the drawer next to the dishwasher, and said, “Silverware.” He reached for the cupboard directly above that and said, “Glasses,” tugging it open to reveal his accuracy.

  He knew how she kept her kitchen. He’d lived for several years in the house she’d set up for the two of them.

  Their gazes met, and he was inclined to linger there, the time-out-of-time element so fresh in his mind, but she broke off the contact almost immediately, turning away as she said, “Help yourself to anything that’s here, Seth. Please. Make yourself at home, or this is going to get awkward.”

  So he put his stuff in the room he’d been allotted, heard Annie moving about the place, and debated about just making an early night of it, doing some work on his laptop in his room. But, in the end, he took it out to the living room with him. She’d offered him use of her wireless internet, but he had an adjudicated hotspot and, settling on one end of the couch, signed on.

  And tried not to feel so good being there.

  But it did feel good.

  Damned good.

  “You want to watch a movie?” Annie came in from the kitchen with a cup of something hot from which she sipped. She was looking in his direction but didn’t seem to quite make eye contact. Her “awkward” comment came back to him and he closed the lid on his laptop.

  “Sure,” he said. This night was for her. Doing what she needed to ease her cares. “Your choice.”

  She hadn’t changed clothes, other than removing the cardigan sweater and work shoes. Neither had he, though he’d brought some basketball shorts and a T-shirt to change into, his normal evening attire at home.

  She settled into the other end of the couch and picked up the remote to click on a popular streaming service. After discussing some choices with him, she named a couple of newer crime adventure releases—and he suggested a documentary that was getting a record number of views. She’d always loved documentaries. And he did, too.

  They used to watch them every Sunday evening. And then talk about them, sometimes debating, sometimes agreeing, but always ending up in each other’s arms, making love to start the week right.

  Making love was out—even if they weren’t divorced and apart, no way he’d do anything to upset the delicate goings on inside Annie or risk any pressure that could cause her to lose either one of the babies. But there was no reason they had to pretend they didn’t know each other’s preferences.

  Annie didn’t call him on the fact that he’d said their show should be her choice. She chose a documentary about a guy who’d raised tiger cubs, and neither of them said a word as the story unfolded.

  He was aware of her, though, every second of the time they shared that couch. In his peripheral vision he’d noticed every time she took a sip from her cup, raised her finger to scratch her cheek, and her head turned in his direction, as well.

  When the last episode ended, he couldn’t believe how long they’d sat there. And still wasn’t ready for bed. She needed her sleep, though, and, he supposed he did, too.

  He also had something he’d failed to mention to her yet, not wanting her to get any idea that he was trying to make more of their little sojourn than was there. But as they both stood, and he headed toward the hall first, he turned to say, “I took off the rest of the week. Dr. Miller said it’ll likely be two or three days before we hear anything, and I wanted to be available. I’m planning to check into a hotel tomorrow and get some golfing in.”