Of course it doesn’t. To the world outside this room, I’m dead. “Who?” I ask and I don’t sound urgent. The truth is, looking at those photos was like taking a knife and slicing me open. I’m bleeding inside and barely holding it together.
“His name is Sheridan Scott,” Derek supplies. “Sound familiar?”
“No. But that doesn’t always mean it won’t later after I’ve had time to think.”
Derek turns his computer to face Liam and I. “What about now?”
“No,” I say, disappointment filling me as I stare at the image of a good looking sixty-something-year-old man in a suit, his dark hair peppered with gray. “He’s way too old. My mother was in her forties. I guess the man to be her age or younger. Tall, and dark, and good looking.”
Liam moves his computer to sit in front of me and pulls up another photo for me to study. I frown. “Why are you showing me Alex?”
“You’ve seen his photo?”
“I googled him way back in Denver when you told me about him.”
His shoulders visibly relax. “I just wanted--”
“To build trust.” I give the other men my back and cup his cheeks, not caring about the audience. “You have it.” I press my lips to his, drinking in the connection to the one person in this world I can trust, and the idea eases the hurt created in me by the photos just enough to make it bearable. He, like our child, gives me the light in the darkness to fight this battle. I have to keep fighting.
Saturday morning is bittersweet. It begins with me in the shower with Liam and we almost forget the idea is to use soap and shampoo. Afterward, still craving that casual feeling of hanging around the house we’d had the day before, I convince Liam to dress in a navy Yankees sweatsuit I find in his drawer and I choose a pale pink one of my own, minus the sports logo. We head to the kitchen together to meet up with Tellar and Derek to do more research, but for a few more moments, I am still all about Liam, the father of my child, and I’m amazed how, no matter what he wears, he owns the space around him. And yes, me, too.
“The chef is in the house,” Tellar announces and Liam and I claim seats at the table and he moves around the kitchen like he owns it, and despite his cheery tone, his shoulder holster and gun dent my mood.
Liam leans in and kisses me. “I need to make a couple of business calls.” He eyes Tellar. “I expect the chef to be in when I get back.”
Tellar mock salutes him. “At your command, sir. Yes, sir.”
Laughter bubbles from my lips and I murmur a greeting to Derek. For a moment, I have the oddest sense of being in a happy bubble that could burst at any moment, and I don’t want it to. Tellar sets a cup in front of me and fills it. “Decaf per the boss’s orders. And how about an omelet? Or eggs sunny-side up? Name your egg.”
“Scrambled eggs well-done, please.” I lift the cup. “And thank you.”
Derek and I chat for a few minutes about his sister who’s a high-end real estate agent, and by the time I finish my eggs, Liam returns. Tellar whips him up an omelet and I listen as Derek and Liam talk about the Denver project Derek is still trying to salvage, the one Liam was supposed to design. Listening to them, I become aware of the bond between these two men that is far more brotherly than simple friendship. And I get why Derek is here. He, and Tellar too, despite being on payroll, are the closest thing to family Liam has. Except for me and the baby.
I reach under the table and press my hand to Liam’s leg. His hand covers mine and we exchange a warm stare. Not for the first time, I am moved by how alike Liam and I are. How alone we were in a world of billions of people until we found each other. I know why he battles being over-protective. I can’t lose him or this child.
“Need anything else?” Tellar asks me.
I frown at him. “What’s happening? Why are you acting like a doting Papa Bear?”
He shrugs. “You’re pregnant and my mom and four sisters taught me right.”
“Four sisters?”
“That’s right. Four. Three of whom have had babies. So, I ask again. Need anything else?”
I look at his gun and then back at him, a tiny prick in my bubble. He’s not just family. He’s a trained protector and killer. “Yes,” I reply. “I need you to not need that. I didn’t notice it the first night we met.”
“I use an ankle holster in public, but this is easier to access.”
“Right. And you need it to be easy to access.”
“This is where I tell her the truth,” Tellar says to Liam. “Yes. I do.”
“Yes, baby, he does,” Liam agrees, drawing my attention. “And I’d feel better if you had one and knew how to shoot it.”
“I don’t like guns, but I can shoot and if I wasn’t afraid the registration would somehow make me more trackable, I’d have bought one long ago.”
Liam leans back in his chair, his dark hair intensifying the aqua of his piercing eyes. “Not the answer I expected.”
“Yeah well, it wasn’t by choice, though I’m not beyond seeing the value of knowing how to protect myself. Learning to shoot was the condition for me traveling with my father. He was concerned about females in a foreign country that isn’t female-friendly.” Tellar sits down with a plate piled high with eggs, potatoes and a bagel and my eyes go wide. “And apparently lugging around a big weapon takes a lot of energy.”
Tellar’s eyes light up. “Don’t you know it, honey.”
Liam ignores the exchange, sitting up, elbows on the table. “Was your father’s concern a general one, or based on a specific threat?”
“We had various issues over my mother and me not covering our faces and bodies.”
Liam presses, “Anyone in particular you remember that we should look into?”
“No. No one specific. I can tell you think this is a potential lead, but really it’s not that uncommon over there. It happens.”
“An interesting thing about Sheridan I think would be well-timed right about now,” Derek interjects. “He’s not only richer than Liam, which is pretty damn rich, he’s richer because he’s into oil. He’s got a connection to Jasmine Heights and now we’ve linked him to Egypt.”
I twist in my seat to face him. “We weren’t involved in oil,” I say but even as I do I hear my mother shouting, and I hug myself against the shiver racing down my spine.
Monday morning comes and Liam leaves me with Tellar to take care of business at the bank, but he’s back in time for Dr. Murphy’s visit. “Why don’t we just use the bed?” she suggests, very proper in a navy suit dress while I’ve opted for the distressed jeans and red sweater I wanted to wear before they no longer fit.
I claim the edge of the mattress and she joins me and begins checking my vitals. Liam, as promised, refuses to be sent from the room.
“How is she?” Liam asks, towering over us, and looking incredibly, intimately male in a dark suit and pressed white shirt, his blue eyes glinting bluer with the sun and water behind him.
“Her vitals are good and so was her blood work. I’m setting the due date as June 26th.”
My eyes connect with Liam’s and I expect excitement, but I find intensity, worry. He doesn't even comment on the date. “She hit her head at one point when she fell and needed stitches.”
“My recommendations haven't changed. Acupuncture and therapy. I can do an acupuncture session today before I leave.” She glances at me. “Are you eating?”
I nod. “Yes. Now that I’m rested, I seem less nauseous.”