“Mrs. Whitaker said to tell you anyplace, anytime, any conditions.”

  The hand holding the phone started to shake. Was she really willing to open what could be a horrible Pandora’s box? Her life was already in upheaval.

  And she’d lived thirty-eight years with the Whitaker portion of her securely contained.

  How did a grown woman meet her grandmother for the first time?

  They were total strangers. Having only a biological connection.

  And yet...she trembled.

  Because biology mattered to her. Which was why Seth would always be welcome in the lives of their children.

  “Lieutenant?” The attorney’s voice sounded far away.

  Seth was at the house.

  With everything else she had keeping her up at night, she wanted this drama with her grandmother over.

  “This afternoon,” she blurted. Thinking she’d have the woman come to the police station. Meet in an interrogation room. Until she thought about her detectives and others being witness to her going in and coming out.

  She named a restaurant instead. The one she and Seth had met at two days before. She’d call ahead for a window seat. The ocean would be right there on the other side.

  And the alcoves provided privacy from other diners.

  Not that she intended to eat anything. “Four o’clock,” she said. “Have her ask for my table.”

  She regretted the contact the second she hung up the phone. Was still shaky. Put a hand on her slightly rounded belly as she pushed speed dial for Seth. He picked up on the first ring, and when he acted like meeting her grandmother at four was not at all alarming, or earth-shattering, either, she started to relax a small bit. She was meeting a stranger with biological ties.

  Not changing her life.

  She was in complete control of how long she did or didn’t stay in this woman’s presence. In complete control of whether or not anything further would come of the meeting.

  Could just be an hour out of her life that brought no further change.

  Seth had sounded...pleased that she’d called. Proud of her.

  And that eased her tension.

  A fact that she knew was important.

  * * *

  “We didn’t reach a conclusion in terms of whether or not to tell your father.”

  Seth had actually been feeling in control, feeling pretty good about himself, when Annie slapped him with the unresolved topic. He’d just taken the seat next to Annie at the table for four, leaving the seat across from her for Clara Whitaker.

  At Annie’s request they’d arrived twenty minutes early, just so she could be certain she chose the table. That she was there first.

  And maybe, Seth considered, so her grandmother wouldn’t have any chance of noticing the small curvature of her lower belly.

  Also, partially at Annie’s request, he’d been to a clothing store in Marie Cove that afternoon to pick up a pair of dress pants and shirt and tie to go with them. She’d wanted him to appear professional, and yet he hadn’t wanted to walk in in uniform. The meeting could be professional, and also personal.

  Her arms on the table, she’d looked at him as she mentioned Randy, and then she turned her eyes back to the fingers she’d been studying in between glances toward the door. She was still wearing the long black cardigan over her pants and hip-length full white blouse. As some sort of protection? More chance to hide that she was pregnant? To further cover the gun she was still wearing at her waist? Or because she was cold?

  In the past he wouldn’t even have wondered. He’d have just known.

  He still knew a lot. Could still read her. She had on the ensemble for all three reasons.

  He didn’t like that the ability hadn’t dwindled.

  “I haven’t come to any conclusions regarding my father,” he said. “You know him. He’s going to have a million things to say about every aspect of this situation and since we haven’t figured it out for ourselves yet, it just seems...premature.”

  “I don’t think we have to have things figured out before he’s in the picture,” she said. “He’s going to have things to say about his own role. We know, basically, that you’re going to play some kind of a part. You’re executor of their trust and going to be their legal guardian in the event anything happens to me. They need to know who you are.

  “And your dad, it’s up to him to determine who he wants to be in their lives. If he wants to know them at all. And as for telling him, I’m the one who gets to make that decision. I was just extending the chance to you in case you wanted it.” She’d broached the subject with a whole lot more equanimity that morning. More openness.

  It was almost as though she was picking a fight with him. With her all shut off like she was, all sheltered inside her lieutenant persona, he was struggling.

  And didn’t like being in that position.

  Until he realized that she wasn’t purposely shutting him out. She was shielding herself against what was to come.

  With that understanding, he said, “I’d like to tell him, if that’s okay with you. I don’t want him to get any wrong ideas about you and me. I’m not going to have him making you uncomfortable with innuendo or pressure about us getting back together. I’ll get him to understand that you’re open to him being involved, but only as long as he keeps the idea of you and me as a couple out of it.”

  Her gaze softened for a second as it rested on him. “Thank you.” She nodded, confirming her agreement to his offer. Glanced toward the door. And stiffened.

  Seth put a hand between her shoulder blades. Not holding her up. Just...holding. The movement was purely reactionary, but once his fingers felt her warmth, he didn’t pull away.

  If ever there was a time when she needed him to have her back, it was then.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The elderly woman didn’t stand out as a member of the privileged rich. In a black skirt that hung just below her knees, a gray, button-up tunic-style jacket and black boots, she fit right in with Marie Cove society as she stood at the entryway to the dining room, a pair of sunglasses in her hand and a black purse hanging from her shoulder.

  Her hair, a natural-looking silvery gray, was short but styled with little spikes of hair curling down the sides of her face. She could have been anybody.

  But the second Annie saw her, she knew the woman was Clara Whitaker.

  She’d come alone. Had spoken to the hostess at the podium, but was searching the room on her own.

  Annie knew the second she’d seen her. Their gazes met. Held.

  Clara’s seemed to melt.

  Annie had no idea what hers was doing. Throwing daggers? Or showing fear?

  As though she’d forgotten there was a hostess to show her to her table, Clara just started walking toward them, her gaze never leaving Annie’s face. And as she approached the table, Annie saw the tremble in her chin. The tears in her eyes.

  She should have made “no crying” a mandatory stipulation.

  This was a meeting. Not a reunion. And there was no guarantee that there’d be a second of its kind.

  She didn’t stand as Clara approached. She didn’t speak, either. She just watched her. And tried to find her professional persona. The one who walked into interrogation rooms to face down violent offenders, determined to get confessions.

  She’d never, ever entered one of those rooms with moisture in her eyes.

  But...

  “You look so much like my mom.”

  “You look just like her, too, Annie. So much so I can hardly...” Her words broke off as emotion overcame her.

  Annie rose then, hugged the woman. Not out of love. Or a sense of family. Just to keep her from causing a scene there at the side of the table.

  She wasn’t sure why she held on as long as she did. Couldn’t justify the action. And gave up trying to do so.

  It was a full minute later that she turned to Seth. “This is Lieutenant Commander Seth Morgan. He’s an attorney with the Judge Advocate General.” She managed to get out the introduction she’d practiced on the way to the restaurant from work. Seth had suggested that they travel together to the meeting.

  She’d needed the time to herself.

  “Morgan?” Clara asked, giving Seth a watery smile as she held out her hand to him. “Your husband?”

  “Ex,” Annie and Seth said at the same time. And let the older woman make of that what she would.

  An hour later, Annie still wasn’t ready to go. They ended up ordering dinner, not stopping at the coffee and decaf tea they’d started with. And Annie had begun to imagine a time when she’d see Clara again. To imagine a life that could include visits from her.

  She wouldn’t go to the Whitaker mansion. Not while her grandfather continued to maintain that he was always right and Annie’s father had not only been worthless but had been the worst thing that happened to Chelsea. But Clara had never agreed that Danny Bolin was as bad as her husband claimed. She’d just thought that Chelsea and her father would eventually make peace. And then, when Danny had died, Chelsea hadn’t been willing to even consider ever inviting them back into her life.

  As it turned out, Clara had contacted Chelsea many, many times, every year after that, though Annie had never been aware of the communication. Not until she had started receiving it upon her mother’s death.

  Annie didn’t tell Clara about the babies, yet. Their coming together was still too new. And it was better for fewer people to know until she had the amnio results. She just couldn’t take the added pressure of everyone worrying on her behalf.

  By the time she and Seth parted with Clara at the door of her car, Annie was pretty sure they’d all just been part of a miracle in motion.

  She carried the feeling back to the house with her, bits and pieces of conversation from the evening playing haphazardly in her mind. And while she relived the words, she saw something she hadn’t completely noticed at the time.

  Seth’s participation. He’d said the right things at the right time. Been silent for long periods. He’d made sure the waiter was present when needed and had quietly paid the bill before Annie had noticed him doing so.

  He’d been there.

  And without him, she might have let more months, maybe even years go by just thinking about the idea of responding to Clara’s attempts to contact her.

  “Thank you,” she told him as they entered the house together, Seth having come into the garage from his car parked out in the driveway.

  “For what? You handled it all perfectly.”

  “Only because you pushed me.”

  They were in the kitchen and she was too wired to head to bed. The next day would very probably bring the results for which they were waiting.

  Everything was falling into place.

  Or getting ready to fall apart.

  “I didn’t push you to do anything, Annie. You’re the one who brought it up.” His tone had a hint of defensiveness.

  “You push me to be honest with myself,” she said then, not wanting to fight with him. Or have any discord between them at all. “You always have, Seth. It’s something I valued in you. Not something bad.”

  He stopped by the sink, kept his gaze on her as she walked past him.

  “You want to watch some TV before bed?” she asked, half afraid he’d say no. Half afraid he wouldn’t and should.

  He studied her for a long second and then nodded, saying only that he was going to get changed and would be out.

  She changed, too. It had been a long day. She felt like she’d lived a lifetime in the past week, and putting on sweats and a loose-fitting, long-sleeved T-shirt seemed like a little piece of heaven.

  In basketball shorts and a T-shirt, Seth was already out in the living room by the time she returned. Every time she saw him in a T-shirt, she noticed how big his upper body had grown. And how much it turned her on.

  Strong...yet protective. Impossible to miss. And fodder for a sexy photo layout.

  A description that fit the whole man.

  And one she needed to move away from. Too much was at stake to screw it up.

  He was in his chair, scrolling through the streaming service they’d watched the other night. Asked her what she wanted to watch, but she told him to pick. She didn’t care. Her mind was racing. In the space of a few short months she’d reconnected with Seth, gotten pregnant, found out she was having twins...and now had a grandmother.

  Christa was going to freak when she told her about that one. As it was, her friend was watching over her closely—worried about Seth’s presence, she knew—but also about the babies. She stopped down to Annie’s office at least three times a day, just to say hello.

  She was a great friend. Annie was so lucky to have her.

  Seth was still scrolling. She watched him. Soaking him up.

  “We’re becoming friends,” she said aloud. Needing the idea to be more than just in her head.

  Remote in hand, he turned his gaze toward her, and she reveled in the attention. As a friend, she had fewer expectations of him than she’d had when she wanted him to be her soul mate and have her back at all times. It could work.

  She wanted it to work.

  And didn’t want him to frown at her. So why was he?

  “I don’t know that I can ever just see you as a friend, Annie,” he said, and it was her turn to stare at the TV, at the list of shows there. She couldn’t scroll though, for distraction. He still had control of the remote.

  “I love you.”

  His words hit her like bullets—and she knew, she’d taken one to her vest once. Her reaction was pretty much the same, too. Denial. It couldn’t be happening.

  Shock.

  No idea what to do.

  She’d been hit...

  “If we’re going to make this work, we need honesty between us,” he said, and she looked back at him, searing with pain.

  And panic.

  “We can’t...” she said, shaking her head.

  His nod confused her. Like...what? He wasn’t going to fight for...something? Anything?

  “I’m fully aware that we are never going to be who we were,” he said. “I’m not suggesting we try. And I also know that we can’t go forward without being honest. You’ll get hurt. I will. And most definitely the children will.”

  The children.

  Their children.

  The ones they’d dreamed up and created in another lifetime. When their love for each other had been a good thing.

  “So...what are we?” She was afraid to ask. Afraid he was backing out on her. Getting ready to pack up and go. To tell her that the meeting with Clara had been too much for him.

  “I don’t know. I just know that friendship isn’t it.”

  “There are different kinds of friends.”

  He shook his head again. “You’ll never be just a friend to me.”

  Her mouth dry, she tried to moisten her lips. She had to ask and was petrified of the answer. “So, what am I to you?”

  His gaze pierced her with dark heat. “When I figure that out, I’ll let you know.”

  Whoosh. The air went out of her with a force she could physically feel. He wasn’t leaving.

  But he wasn’t staying, either.

  He was sitting on the fence.

  And fair or not, right or not, she needed more.

  “I love you, too.” She’d probably known all along. When she heard him say the words...there’d been no denying the response that had cried out inside her.

  His gaze intensified, his nostrils flaring just a bit in the way they did when he was trying to contain his emotions. “That’s good to know.”

  She almost smiled. Was afraid that if she let loose with even that much emotion, everything would come pouring out. Things she didn’t want to look at. Know about.

  “Who’d have ever thought life would be so complicated?” If they couldn’t be a couple, or friends, at least they could talk with total honesty. That had real value.

  Deep value.

  He shook his head. And then grinned.

  “What?” she asked him.

  “What you do to me, Annie. You reach out with one hand and pull me in, and push me away with the other.”

  “I don’t mean to.”

  “I know.”

  She knew he did. Not because he’d said he was being totally honest, but because she felt exactly what he meant. “You do it to me, too.”

  “I’m not sorry you came to see me.”

  “I’m not, either.”

  “And I’m very not sorry that you’re giving life to our embryos.”

  Tears filled her eyes. She steadied herself until they dissipated. “I hope we hear good news tomorrow,” she said.

  “You had very little cramping and no spotting. Tomorrow’s the third day, so the risk of miscarriage is almost behind you.”

  She was trying not to celebrate too early, but she’d been counting the hours. And miscarriage wasn’t her only worry. That small baby...

  She could still lose it. By miscarriage or stillbirth.

  “I’m thirty-eight years old.”

  And every second of every one of those years was weighing on her as she considered her body’s chances to successfully meet the challenge before it. One baby she’d been confident of, but two? And with possible issues?

  “The embryos were made from young, healthy eggs.”

  He was right. And that was good to remember. Her body was thirty-eight, but her eggs in use weren’t. That had to be a plus in their favor.

  Still, she started to quiver from the inside and then the tears came, racing past the barriers she’d erected against them. It was all just so much. Too much.

  She’d never foreseen the path she was on when she’d made the choice to pursue insemination. She’d pictured herself pregnant and peaceful. Alone on the walk, except for Christa appearing from the side of the road now and then.