If my best friend thinks it’s strange that I want to have your child, she hasn’t said so. Her mother gave me the side-eye, but then she started stocking the freezer with all manner of soups and stews, lasagnas, casseroles.
Life wins.
Love wins.
Love and life always win.
In the kitchen, I find Bailey at the stove. I didn’t have him pegged as someone who could cook. But I didn’t have him pegged as someone who would stay on a case after he was fired, and come after me with Jones Cooper and Jax.
“What are you making?” I ask, seating myself at the kitchen island. My back is aching and I just want to go put on my pajamas and crawl into bed.
“Spicy white bean soup with pancetta.” The wafting scents of garlic, onion, olive oil fill the air.
“Sounds like heaven.”
“Heaven in a Dutch oven. It’s done. Just needs to simmer for a while.”
He wipes his hands on a dish towel and comes around to me.
“How was it?” he asks.
“Strange, sad,” I say, feeling the tug of sorrow. Love doesn’t always feel good. “But I’m glad I went. It was past time. I’ve been running from him for so long, from that night, from that place. Time to stand and hold my ground.”
Bailey and I have been dancing around each other since the night he found me. He stayed. Rode in the ambulance with me, was always there when I opened my eyes. Was in the room with Jax and I when the doctor told me I was pregnant. He helped us get back to the town house. He’s come for dinner, twice.
Every morning I get a text from him: Has the world ended yet?
Not yet, I answer.
That kiss, it’s on my mind. The feel of his arms, the sound of my name on his breath.
When he quit Turner and Ives, he and Jason decided to form a partnership and open their own agency. A nice combo of old-and new-school detective skills; I think they’ll learn a lot from each other.
He never questioned my decision to keep the baby either. The other day, he touched my hand when I walked him out to his car. We both drew back as if there was an electric shock. And I’ve been thinking about that touch ever since.
That boy’s in love, warned Jax.
Stop it, I told her.
What, are you blind, my friend?
Please. I’m damaged goods.
Jax got mad. I really got the riot act. Don’t you dare say that. Not ever. Truly. That’s so fucked on so many levels. You are who you are because of everything that made you and that’s beautiful. You’re a survivor.
I am the storm?
Damn straight.
“I hope you don’t mind that I came by,” Bailey says now. We’re both as tense and awkward as tweens at our first dance.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I manage to say. “I realize that I haven’t thanked you for everything you’ve done. Or said that I am so sorry about Mia. And about Sabrina. She tried to help me, and Adam nearly killed her.”
He bows his head. “The conversation with Henry Thorpe was a heartbreaker. But Nora was right, he deserved closure, deserved to grieve his loss. I could give him that at least.”
He lifts his head.
“And Sabrina—she’s doing okay. But that was my fault,” he says. Regret pulls his features tight. “My judgment was off. I’d lost you—and I was in a dark place. I didn’t stop her from inserting herself into a plan that was flawed from the beginning.”
“You did your best,” I say. “I ditched you. If I’d stayed with you—you wouldn’t have been shot, I wouldn’t have played into his plan, Sabrina never would have been hurt.”
Bailey shakes his head.
“Maybe we never would have known what happened to Mia, Bonnie, and Melissa if you hadn’t followed the ghost. Their families would have spent a lifetime wondering, unable to let go.”
I let his words settle. Yes, we all have to let go. It’s the hardest thing, isn’t it?
“We blame ourselves, always,” he goes on into the silence. “But really there’s only one person to blame for what happened.”
“And he’s gone,” I say.
You’re gone.
Bailey is dangerously close; I feel his heat. He offers me both his hands, and I pivot to face him. His gaze is clear and true, a slight smile at his lips. There’s mischief there, and light. I put my hands into his waiting palms, and the electricity races up my arms. He steps in closer, pulls me in, and I rest my head on his chest. He wraps his arms around me, closer.
“This isn’t going to be easy,” I whisper.