We’d tried, and failed, to have a baby for a couple of years. Who really knows why that happens. The doctors will run all kinds of tests and explain why they think it’s happening, but ultimately, I think it was just our bad luck. As far as the specialists were concerned, the likely cause lay with Tess’s age and her being on the pill for so many years, but whatever it was, and despite trying the very best IVF treatments on offer, it just wouldn’t happen for us. The grueling process had turned into a drawn-out ordeal, with each failed attempt causing more emotional trauma. Tess, in particular, had grown more and more depressed with feelings of inadequacy, something that seemed insane to me—she was the most capable and giving woman I’d ever met. But she knew how much I had wanted to be a dad myself, and not just a stepdad to Kim, and although I’d done my best to play down the disappointment I felt deep down and no matter what I said, I guess I just hadn’t been able to hide it convincingly enough. She started finding it harder and harder to be around me and ended up flying off to Jordan, using the excuse that she needed to do some research for a Templar novel she was prepping. It was only recently, and by fluke—a near-death one, at that, after Tess had been kidnapped by some whackjob Iranian operative while she was in Petra—that we’d gotten back together again.
And now this.
It was definitely going to hurt.
It was also the kind of wedge that could drive a couple apart, and that was a prospect I was desperate to avoid. I mean, Tess was my life. But I knew that the sudden reemergence of an ex-girlfriend with my young child in tow would be, at best, a source of recurrent friction and, at worst, a complication that could wreck us. It wouldn’t help that Michelle Martinez was smart, funny, seriously hot, and—the deal breaker—someone I’d never mentioned to Tess. I’d blanked out that whole episode of my life. And no matter how attractive Tess was herself—which she was, in spades, the word luminous springing to mind whenever I try to describe her—and despite the fact that I was nuts about her and that she knew it, I had a strong feeling she’d inevitably feel threatened by my blast from the past. Anyone would. I get that. Hell, I would, too, no question. And, again, I’d probably end up having a hard time convincing her that she had nothing to worry about. Which she didn’t. Michelle had been a serious flame for me, but Tess, without a doubt, was the full bonfire.
Definitely not a conversation I was looking forward to, though it was already playing itself out in my mind. And as I drove into the parking lot worrying about Tess, far darker thoughts intruded and took center stage again, thoughts of Michelle and a little boy I’d never met and the dangers lurking around them.
I was starting to have a sinking feeling that maybe I should have grabbed a jet.
5
SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA
As the door swung open, my heart froze.
Not in a bad way. It froze in an oh-my-god, paralyzed-from-sensory-overload kind of way. The good kind of sensory overload.
She still had it. The smooth, honey-hued skin. The delicate dusting of freckles across her thin nose and sculpted cheeks. The dazzling blue eyes, windows into the cauldron of intelligence and mischief within. The body, curvy and taut, that could make Hugh Hefner’s head spin. It was all just as I remembered it.
But that wasn’t what froze my heart.
What did it was the four-year-old boy standing quietly by her side, holding onto her hand tightly and staring up at me.
The sight of him made me forget to breathe.
When Michelle had said that Alex was four, I hadn’t quite realized just how tiny a four-year-old was. How tiny, and how fragile. I just hadn’t been around many kids of that age. I didn’t have any nieces or nephews, Kim was around ten when I first hooked up with Tess, and, aside from Aparo, I wasn’t socially close to any of the people I worked with, some of whom had young kids. Hence the shock and awe rolling through me. And right there and then, standing in that bland and uninspiring hotel hallway, my heart soared as it never had before. I just knew that Alex was mine.
“You gonna just stand there like a burro, or you gonna give me a hug?” Michelle asked.
I dragged my eyes away from Alex and up to hers. Despite the apparent bravado, there was a smoldering fear in her eyes. It was subtle, barely there, and not everyone would have spotted it, but I did. I smiled, took her by the shoulders and pulled her closer, and gave her a kiss, a slightly awkward one that wasn’t quite on the lips but wasn’t on the cheeks either. Her arms slid up and she hugged me, tight, burying her head in the crook of my neck.
I’m not gonna lie to you, and don’t hate me for saying it, but right there and then, it felt great. Awkward, yes—but great.
Then I felt the shivering and any notion of “great” vaporized.
We stood there for a long moment, breathing each other in, a riptide of confusing emotions tugging at us, an unfinished past colliding with a brutal present, standing there in silence, stretching out the enjoyable part of our encounter, knowing the real reason for us being there, together again, would soon take over. Then we pulled back, holding each other’s eyes in a silent commemoration of what we’d once had until Michelle turned and, palms out, game show hostess–like, gestured at her son.
“So . . . this is Alex,” she said, her face a mix of pride, unease, and pain.
I glanced back down at the boy, who was staring at me uncertainly, and something twisted inside me. Alex’s eyes were wide with what I suddenly realized was more than just uncertainty. It was fear. I bent down to say hi to him, but as I did, Alex shrunk back and tucked himself in behind his mother’s thigh, hugging it tightly while burying his head into it.
“No,” he pleaded in a small voice.
Michelle swiveled her head around to him.
“Alex, what’s wrong?”
The kid didn’t say anything. He was still cowering behind her leg, not looking out.
I looked a question at Michelle. She turned and crouched down and pulled Alex out from behind her, but he resisted and screamed, “No,” again.
“Alex, stop it.” Her tone was even, but firm.
“No, Mommy, no,” the boy whimpered.
“Meesh, it’s okay,” I offered.
Michelle ignored my plea. “Alex, stop,” she insisted, firmer now, but still calm. “This is my friend, Sean. Now would you please stop being silly and say hi to him. He’s here to help us.”
The boy glanced up at me, then ducked back out of sight and tucked himself away even more. He was trembling visibly.
“It’s all right,” I told her, raising my hands in a calming motion. “He’s been through a hell of a lot today.”
Michelle studied Alex for a second, then hugged him against her and nodded. “I know, but . . . I don’t know what’s got into him. He’s usually really friendly, and I thought that, at least, with you here . . .” She let the words drift off, clearly flustered and frustrated.
“Given what you’ve both been through today . . . Maybe it’s not a bad thing for him to be wary of strangers.”
“I guess,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s just that . . . He’s been having nightmares and, well, it’s . . . complicated.” She looked up at me with real hurt in her eyes, and I suspected that, despite everything she’d been through today, she probably felt awful about my first get-together with Alex turning out this way. “God, I’m really sorry. It’s nothing to do with you, you know that, right?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
I got down on one knee so my face was almost level with his, and extended a hand. “Hey, Alex. It’s really great to meet you.”