Not Without Her Child, page 24
To fight for herself.
To ask for what she needed. The first big step she’d taken had been to call Sierra’s Web and hire Brian.
She had Brooke back. Had a daughter who had to be able to rely on her mother to set a healthy example for her in life.
“For what it’s worth, I’d like you to stay,” she said. “I know it’s only been a couple of weeks, but what we’ve been through...the way we fit...and the sex...”
His lips pursed. His eyes narrowed.
She pulled it all out. “I love you, Brian.”
Still nothing from him. Just looks that spoke to her soul.
“Do you think there’s any chance, even a little one, that you could, maybe, down the road, start to love me back?”
He shook his head. Once. Twice. Studied her intently. Shrugged.
“I suspect I might have already crossed that bridge.” His words burst through her heart, causing an eruption like she’d never known before. Showing her a paradise she hadn’t known to hope for.
She wasn’t sure what to do with it.
How to even accept the possibility of it.
Was afraid...
“Though it’s completely illogical, makes no sense, to spend twenty-nine years certain love wasn’t for you, and then think you’ve fallen in two weeks’ time.”
Heart still soaring way ahead of her mind, she glommed on what she could handle. “You’re only twenty-nine?”
“Yeah, and you’re thirty-two. I know, it was in the case file. I’m a little younger than you. You have a problem with that?”
“No.” None at all.
That got her another nod.
“What did you tell Anderson?” It should have been her first question. The only question, really, because if he’d already said no, he’d made up his mind.
He looked at her. Those striking hazel eyes seeming to brim with things she wanted to believe.
“What did you tell him?” she asked again.
“That I’d think about it.”
“And have you?”
“Some. I didn’t think I was done yet.”
One word stood out. So loud she didn’t let the rest in. “‘Didn’t’?” she repeated.
“I don’t think love can make everything perfect.”
“Neither do I. Life isn’t about perfection. It’s about choices. But here’s something I’ve learned, that I can promise you, Brian. Love, even only after knowing it for a few months, can give you the strength to move mountains if you let it. Whether the one you love is there or not, the love you feel for them can hold you up forever.”
Loving Brooke had taught her that.
His glance toward her daughter’s room told her he got her point.
“She won’t remember her biological father,” she said then, softly. “She’ll need to know about him someday, but if she’s been raised by a good man, if she’s secure in his love, the news won’t be so devastating to her. And right now, as she transitions in, if you’re here, around, you could be as much father in her memory as I am mother. It won’t be an easy gig. And I sure as hell don’t want to talk you into anything. Just...if you feel it...you know, a need to hang around, there’s a position open here for you.”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this...”
He hadn’t said anything.
“What?” she asked.
“I accept.”
He changed with those two words. Before her eyes, his expression lit up, his hands came out of his pockets, and his chin...there was no tension there at all. His face softened so much she almost didn’t recognize him.
Standing there with more joy than she’d ever imagined flowing through her, feeling weak and strong and afraid she’d wake up and find out that none of it was real, she had no words.
Brian didn’t seem to need words. He walked toward her slowly. Holding her gaze. Sliding his arms around her.
“I love you, Jess.”
His whispered words were the light in her window.
One that would never burn out.
Not in the tough times.
Not in old age.
Not ever.
* * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from Colton’s Deadly Affair by Jennifer D. Bokal.
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Colton’s Deadly Affair
by Jennifer D. Bokal
Prologue
Andrew Capowski drew in a deep breath. Up here, the air was clean and cool. His work shift was almost over. He’d made it through another night guarding the Empire State Building. Not that there was much to the job, or at least not much to do when the building was empty. Sure, there were other security guards and the overnight cleaning crew—less than two dozen people in total.
He stood on the eighty-sixth-floor observation deck and rested his elbows on the railing. Sure, there was another observation deck that had been added to the 102nd floor. But Andrew was old-school and liked the original deck best. A narrow concrete walkway circled the perimeter of the building. The entire outside area was enclosed with a metal fence high enough to stop anyone from trying to jump. During the day, this space was crowded with tourists taking pictures but never really seeing the city.
It was 4:45 a.m. and the deck was blessedly empty. The sun had yet to rise, but the sky was starting to lighten on the eastern horizon. Right before sunrise was his favorite time of the day. At his feet, the greatest city in the world slept. Fog rolled off the Hudson River. He could see lights in the apartments across the same river in New Jersey. If he looked to the left, the gentle hills of Pennsylvania were visible in the distance.
He exhaled a contented sigh. Up here, he really was king of the world.
Andrew had to admit that life treated him pretty well. Sure, he’d never get hired by the NYPD. But he had a job he liked. He was married to Vanessa, a woman who he loved more than life. They were expecting their first baby in the fall. It was a boy, the doctor said. He and Vanessa had just agreed on a name—Andrew Capowski Junior.
Him, a dad. Who’d believe it?
One day, he planned to visit this exact spot with his son. From up here, he’d show him the city that the Capowski family had called home for generations.
A door from the elevator bank opened with a whoosh and he froze. Nobody else was assigned to patrol the deck. Had there been an accident? Was there an emergency with his wife? He turned to face the doors and just like the first drop on a roller coaster, his stomach fell to his shoes.
A person stood on the walkway. They were dressed in black—black hoodie, baggy black jeans, dark sunglasses, surgical mask, gloves, and a black book bag was slung over one shoulder.
Standing straight, Andrew lifted his chest. It was a posture he practiced in the mirror every day. He knew that the joker who stood near the doors would get a good look at the badge he wore.
The person removed their sunglasses and stared at Andrew.
This high up, a constant breeze buffeted the building. Despite the wind, Andrew started to sweat. Maybe they were new to the cleaning crew. “You lost your way or something?”
“I’m right where I’m supposed to be,” they said. “You’re the one who’s lost.”
“What’re you doing out here?”
“Looking for you, Andrew.”
The use of his name hit him like a slap. He stepped back. “You ain’t supposed to be out here.” True, having a person on the observation deck was troubling. But more than that bothered him. “How’d you get in here in the first place?”
The person’s eyes crinkled with a smile under their mask and gooseflesh rose on Andrew’s arm.
It wasn’t that Andrew was afraid of taking a punch—or giving one, for that matter. But there was something very wrong with the scenario.
“I asked you a question,” he said. “And you need to answer me. Who in the hell are you? And how’d you get into the building?”
Shaking their head, the person gave a quiet laugh. “You really are an idiot.”
Now Andrew was mad. “What’d you call me?”
“An idiot—you idiot. You said you asked me one question. Obviously, you can’t count because you asked me two questions.”
“Aren’t you the self-righteous little punk? How’d you like to get charged with trespassing?” He wasn’t sure what other laws had been broken, but Andrew would make sure they got charged with it all.
He reached for the walkie-talkie that was hooked to his belt. Lifting it to his mouth, he depressed the talk button. “Burt, are you there?” he asked, calling his supervisor. “This is Andrew on the eighty-sixth-floor OD. We got ourselves a problem up here.”
“Yeah?” He let go of the talk button. Burt’s voice cut through the static. “What kind of problem?”
Before he could say anything, he saw the gun. His heartbeat thumped against his chest. There was a flash of fire. The boom of thunder. The scent of gunpowder hung in the air. A flock of pigeons took flight, their wings beating against the gray sky. Andrew fell backward and hit the deck. He couldn’t breathe. His chest burned. That was when he saw the blood soaking the front of his uniform shirt. He touched his chest and his palm turned scarlet.
“You shot me,” he gasped.
His vision closed in from all sides.
In the distance, he heard Burt’s voice. “Andrew? You there? What kind of problem you got?”
He wanted to answer all the questions, but he couldn’t remember how to speak. His last thought was of the son who he would never meet.
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ISBN-13: 9780369742780
Not Without Her Child
Copyright © 2023 by TTQ Books LLC
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Tara Taylor Quinn, Not Without Her Child
