“I’m just not ready for bed yet.”

  He studied her a moment and then settled back and watched a sitcom rerun with her. At least, his gaze stayed tuned to the television. Hers kept wandering to him.

  And the love she’d once felt for him surged, bringing her to the point of tears. It wasn’t a new thing. She’d been living with it since shortly after she’d met him. She’d known it was undying then, and more than a decade and a divorce later, it still lived.

  But instead of bringing her joy, it tended to bring pain.

  Grief.

  She’d thought herself on the other side of all that. Thought she’d made it to the point where she could think of him without getting tangled up in emotion.

  And maybe she had.

  Maybe the stress of the babies and the pregnancy hormones were at fault for her current confusion. Her need to bury her head and cry.

  The television quieted and she saw the remote in Seth’s hand.

  “You want to tell me what’s wrong?”

  She didn’t. Absolutely did not. Her chin trembling, she watched him as long as she could, and then stared at the main screen of the streaming service.

  “I’m being ridiculous.”

  “Okay. Fear, worry, panic, it’s all real in the moment.”

  She should go with that. Let him think she was panicking about the possibility of miscarrying. Earlier in the evening, when she’d been alone preparing dinner, he’d have been right.

  In the middle of the night, he might be again.

  But...

  She shook her head, and then took him head-on. Eye to eye. “You got married again.”

  His head reared back. And she knew he got it. Had made the connection between the documentary and her current state of mind.

  That was what happened when two people loved as deeply as they had. When they let each other in as completely as they had.

  And the pain when that trust was broken...

  There was just no getting rid of it.

  “Sometimes I think I’m silly, being so hurt over a marriage that happened years later. It’s not like you were screwing around on me.”

  And it wasn’t like her to talk like that.

  “It’s just...you know...in all the years since the divorce... I’ve dated. Good men. Honorable, entertaining, great-looking men...”

  His chin clenched, but he didn’t stop her mini tirade. And she didn’t stop, either.

  “I had some good relationships. Had sex. And not one of them...” She had to stop. Tears were clogging her throat and she was not going to let them fall.

  He nodded a time or two, his face still tight. She half expected him to get up, get his things, and let himself out.

  She wouldn’t really blame him if he did. Half hoped he might.

  Because what were they doing? What was she doing? Falling in love with him all over again?

  When they already knew the outcome?

  Who did that? Who hurt themselves like that twice?

  He didn’t leave. And anger rose to clamp down a bit on the grief. She’d learned to welcome it in spurts. To use it for her good.

  “I couldn’t find anyone who came close to being you, Seth. Who could take the place you’d held in my life. I couldn’t find a single man who could come after you. I couldn’t bear to think about making those vows with someone else...”

  She heard the accusation in her voice. Knew it wasn’t fair. And yet, God, it felt good to get it out. To just throw it up and have it outside of her, even if only for a few seconds.

  Instead of getting riled up with her, he seemed to calm. He didn’t look away, avoid her gaze. Or her accusations.

  “I didn’t even try to find anyone who could be who you were to me. I was looking for a life partner, but not a soul mate.” His tone was unequivocal, but kind. Honesty seemed to shine from his eyes. And though his words hurt her, she made herself listen.

  On her way to finding a way to have him in his children’s lives. Biologically—and more. Seth was there. Maybe it wouldn’t be forever. But he’d given her their embryos. And he’d supported the process every step of the way. Because the babies she was carrying were his, too.

  Not legally. But in every way that really mattered.

  His children needed to know that about him. To know from what they’d come. To be able to feel proud of him.

  “Stella’s a sweet woman,” Seth finally continued. “Generous. Nurturing. Funny.”

  She’d asked. She never should have asked.

  “And I hurt her, too.” His gaze was like sharp razors then, piercing her.

  Warning Annie?

  “She made a good home for us. Wanted children. She was a teacher, made sense that she’d want a family.”

  “Seems pretty much a guarantee,” she said, not completely kindly. “A safe choice. Not someone who’d suddenly find out what her passion was and head off to the shooting range.”

  It was exactly what she’d done, how it had happened, but there had been times when she was at the range, during her training in the police academy, that she’d thought of Seth. Wondered if he’d have been impressed. Proud of her.

  “No, but like you, she needed things from me that I couldn’t seem to produce.”

  “You didn’t have to produce anything for me, Seth. All you had to do was love me enough to support my choice.”

  Because that was what love did.

  And he hadn’t had enough of it to give her.

  Even more than a decade later, it was hard for her to comprehend that.

  “I’m emotionally lacking.”

  Her heart moved to immediately debunk his statement, while her brain didn’t totally disagree with him. Such an odd thing for her—her heart and head to be in such conflict. Generally, one or the other was in the lead and the other followed—depending on circumstance. They were opposites that each had something to contribute to her well-being and worked well together.

  “I couldn’t take the constant worry. And I couldn’t make it go away,” he told her.

  “Did you even try? It seemed to me that the second I told you what I’d learned about myself, you went on the defensive. And you never let up. Every single time the subject came up you got that way. Pointing out the cons. Arguing your case...”

  “I tried.”

  She paid attention to a tone in his voice. Felt her gaze soften, though her mind was still gunning for him.

  “I went to counseling, Annie. While you were deployed. I tried to work through things. I just couldn’t get to the other side enough to be okay with you in danger every day. I was going to ruin our marriage.”

  He went to counseling? The confident, in-control, “so sure of what he could and could not do” Seth Morgan...had gone to counseling?

  For her?

  “It was the same with Stella,” he said.

  “You worried about her safety, too?” The woman had been a schoolteacher. Not exactly a job you thought of as dangerous.

  So, what was he telling her? That he couldn’t handle having anyone close to him? Couldn’t have a family of his own? Without torturing himself with the idea that they’d leave for the day and die on him?

  Seth shook his head. “She gave me everything,” he said. “She needed me to be able to open up emotionally, to give her everything back.” He shrugged. Shook his head. “I tried. For two years I tried. I just couldn’t do it. She knew it. And eventually my inability to feel what she needed me to feel eroded our marriage.”

  Our marriage. The words came from Seth. And didn’t mean him and Annie. The bullet hit home.

  And yet...so did something else.

  “You didn’t love her.”

  “I thought I did,” Seth admitted.

  “You were fond of her.”

  “Yeah, probably. I guess that’s right.”

  But he’d loved Annie, she realized.

  It didn’t change things. Not really. Not for the present or future.

  But maybe it made the past a little less painful.

  Maybe if she’d hung around that night, after he’d told her their marriage needed to end. The night she’d called him and heard Deirdra and Coco in the background...maybe if she’d known he was returning the next morning...maybe if she’d been there, they’d have been able to remain friends.

  And maybe...just maybe...they could be that still.

  Chapter Seventeen

  As far as Seth knew, Annie slept through the entire night. He did, too. He awoke when he heard her rustling around in her suite and soon after that heard her shower start. By the time she made it out to the kitchen, in another of her black-pants-white-shirt-and-long-black-cardigan ensembles, he had her favorite hot cereal and toast made for her. With bananas sliced on the side.

  “You didn’t have to make breakfast,” she told him in lieu of “good morning” or “did you sleep okay?” as she came into the room.

  Just like they’d always done it. They’d see each other and it would be as though the conversation just picked up where it left off. As though they hadn’t been apart.

  “You’re working. I’m a man of leisure for a couple of days. Seemed fair that I’d be the one to cook.”

  In hindsight he saw that he probably should have gone for a coffee and pumpkin latte and minded his own business in terms of eating. Truth was, he had some energy to expend. Being a “man of leisure” didn’t suit him.

  Not even a little bit.

  If he wasn’t uncomfortable with the idea of being an hour away in case of a miscarriage, or other bad news, he’d drive home and get some work done in his office. As it was, he had his computer and intended to spend a good part of the day working.

  When she sat down at the table, he did, too. Attacked his cereal with an appetite he didn’t feel. Did the same with the toast. Managed to finish the cereal.

  But couldn’t stop from noticing, every time he looked up, that her gun was fully visible where her shirt had fallen away.

  Toast in hand, but loath to trust his throat with the dryness, he focused on his life. His role. His next moments.

  “I was planning to get some work done in the hotel room,” he said aloud. “You mind if I set up here instead?” To punctuate his confidence, he took a bite of the toast.

  “Of course not!” She smiled at him. An actual, real smile. Finished off her bananas.

  And it took Seth several seconds to be able to swallow the bite of food in his mouth. God, she was beautiful.

  And he wanted her.

  “I...um...have been thinking...” Annie’s tone had him spellbound. “Well, you know...last night after I went to bed...and this morning...”

  He got hard.

  “...about Randy.”

  Hell, yes, he was randy.

  Randy. She’d been thinking about Randy. Not being randy. Randy. His dad.

  “What about him?”

  “Have you told him about the babies?” she asked.

  “Of course not.”

  “Well, maybe...you should?”

  He stared at her. Then made himself be practical. Shook his head. “That would be kind of cruel, don’t you think? ‘Hey, Dad, guess what, you’re going to be a grandfather. Yeah, Annie’s their mother, but, no, you won’t be in their lives...’”

  “Seth Morgan.”

  The tone made him hard again. Instantly and painfully. It always had. Every time she’d used it. Not that she knew that. She was calling him out. Telling him he should be ashamed of himself. If she knew the tone made him hard, she’d send the message twice.

  He should be ashamed of himself.

  And he might be, if he could convince himself wanting her was wrong.

  “Do you really think I’d suggest telling him about the babies if I didn’t intend to let him be a part of their lives?”

  Seth’s mind flew from his jeans back to his brain. And pinged his heart on the way. Dropping the toast, he held her gaze. Tried to read her, but wasn’t sure he was getting it right.

  “He’d want to see you, too, Annie. Not just them. He loves you like his own.”

  “I know.”

  He couldn’t make sense of it. “You’re saying you want us all to be a family?”

  “Not...you and I, of course...not married or a couple, but...yeah...with the kids, a family. Is that too much to ask?”

  He didn’t know. But couldn’t immediately dissuade her of the possibility. Legalities cropped up to occupy him. Comfort him. There would need to be contracts. Agreements. To protect both sides.

  “I just keep thinking... I grew up with only my mother for family. I’m basically all alone in the world now. I don’t want that for my kids. I mean, I have Christa, and other close friends, but it’s not the same as family. And your dad... I love him, too. He’s a wonderful man who has much to teach them. Just by the way he lives his life. But most important, he’ll love his grandchildren and they’ll love him. How can I rob them of that richness? That gift?”

  He needed time to process. To think. To figure out where he’d be unable to provide the emotional sustenance such a thing would require. To know ahead of time and find a way to prevent his lack from having everything explode around them all.

  He needed time.

  And so he went in another direction.

  “What about the Whitakers? I thought maybe, after your mom died, they’d be at the funeral. Maybe approach you. You’re telling me you still have no contact with her family?” He’d found a way to get the question in without seeming completely inappropriate.

  And needed to get her on another topic. Desperately. Or as close to desperate as he got.

  “My grandmother’s been asking for contact, via an attorney. For several years.” She shrugged. “I haven’t responded. And if they were at Mom’s funeral, I didn’t know about it.”

  He heard another tone, one that didn’t come from her all that often: doubt. And thoughts of his own predicament fled for the moment. “You want to respond, though? You want to have contact with her?”

  “I don’t know.” Carrying her empty dish to the sink, she rinsed it and her spoon, put them in the dishwasher. Doing the same for his and the toast plate as he carried them over. “Mom was so adamant that they’d only bring confusion and pain to our family. That they were governed by values other than love and loyalty. Money rules them and money doesn’t buy happiness. But...the last request for contact from my grandmother was accompanied by a letter several pages long. She said that my grandfather didn’t know she’d been trying to see me, that since she lost my mom her life has been an empty shell. She sounds like she’s a well of hurt, Seth. Like she’s driven by her heart, just as Mom was. But if I contact her, I get into the messy situation of being involved with covert contact, deceiving my grandfather, and worrying about her doing so. About him finding out.”

  “That’s her choice to make, don’t you think?” He didn’t want to encourage her to enter into a situation that could go horribly wrong.

  And yet...second chances...they mattered.

  And if Annie could have family behind her...

  “I drove by their place a few months ago.”

  He studied her carefully. Reading what he saw. “So you want to respond to her. To give her a chance.”

  Turning, she leaned back against the sink. Frowned as she said, “Her letters, they seem so sincere. And if they are—she’s hurting, Seth. Really hurting. And filled with a lifetime of regret. Am I as bad as they all were to my mom and dad if I just harden my heart and don’t at least give her a chance?”

  “I think you already know the answer to that.”

  She nodded. “I’d die if I couldn’t see my babies, and I haven’t even met them yet.” She rubbed her belly and then said, “But could you please just say it out loud for me so I can see if it rings true?”

  She wasn’t sure of herself.

  “You want to give her that chance.”

  She nodded. “Yeah. I think I do. But would you be willing to sit in with me...if it happened? Just so she doesn’t think I’m doing this all alone and try to push her way in?”

  Putting his hands on Annie’s shoulders, Seth looked her in the eye. “No way anyone is ever going to push their way in with you, Annie Morgan. Not unless you want them to.”

  Including him.

  It was a fact that allowed him to be there. Helping her. She wasn’t going to let him hurt her again.

  One more nod, and it was like she’d flipped a switch. Stepping out from his hold, she was all business. Grabbing her things and heading out the door, saying she was going to be late for work.

  She thanked him for breakfast, told him to make himself at home, and said she’d bring something home for dinner.

  Almost like...they were a couple living together.

  Except that he didn’t get the kiss goodbye for which he ached.

  * * *

  Once the decision had been made, Annie knew an internal pressure that wasn’t letting up. By midmorning she’d contacted Clara Whitaker’s attorney, telling him that she might be willing to meet with the older woman if certain conditions were met. She wanted the meeting to take place in Marie Cove. At a place of her choosing. At a time of her choosing. And Clara had to be alone, with the exception of her attorney or a licensed, professional safety official.

  She wasn’t coming at the situation with an open heart or a willingness to offer kindness. She was a police lieutenant and treating the matter from that standpoint. If the meeting didn’t go well, she intended to file a restraining order. She was not going to spend the rest of her life hearing from Clara.

  Reminding Annie that a part of her life wasn’t whole.

  She had no control over how others chose to conduct themselves, but she had every right to protect herself and her children.

  The no-nonsense attitude carried her through the five minutes between her phone call to the attorney and her callback.