God, she was beautiful.
I sat back in my chair and stared as something inside me broke. I was twenty-seven years old. I’d had my fair share of dates and women, but not one of them had held my interest for any length of time. However, for some inexplicable reason, in a matter of minutes, I knew I wanted to argue with Elisabeth—with an S—Keller about chicken parmesan for the rest of my life.
“Oh, please, enlighten me, then,” I teased.
She rolled her eyes then once again glanced around us, surveying our possible audience. “That’s a second-date meal,” she hissed. “Tonight, I’ll have the soup and salad.”
I twisted my lips. “That’s it?”
“That’s it,” she confirmed.
I looked up at the waiter. “She’ll have the chicken parmesan. Bring it out every possible way a person can order it. Pull up another table if need be.”
“Roman, no!” She slapped at my arm, but I caught her hand and intertwined our fingers.
I held her gaze until the waiter walked away, at which point I seductively whispered, “Lissy, yes.”
Her cheeks flushed, and then she gave me the innocent angel back. Her eyes darted to our hands before shyly sliding away. “That’s a ton of food. And trust me, I’m a whack-a-doo. They’ll never get it right.”
That was exactly what I’d hoped. “Then I guess we’ll just have to stay here until they do.”
I’d have given up every possession I owned just to go back in time to that Olive Garden with her.
Even knowing how it would end.
Maybe especially knowing how it would end.
But I’d have given it all for one night where chicken parmesan was our only obstacle.
“Mr. Leblanc,” Detective Rorke prompted, forcing me back to the present.
I closed my eyes and shook the memories off. “Right.” I motioned for Whit to evacuate the seat next to Elisabeth.
He moved swiftly, as though he knew that his future employment depended on it.
Elisabeth scooted her chair to the left, huffing as I followed.
“Okay,” Rorke started, once again digging through his file. “We just have a few questions about Peach City Reproductive Center.” He kept his head down but glanced up from his papers.
“Oh, okay,” Elisabeth said, knotting her hands in her lap. “We, um, did in vitro fertilization there. It was—”
A stabbing pain hit me in the gut. “Is this about a bill?” I asked roughly, cutting her off. “I paid them years ago. If anything is still outstanding, I’ll personally take care of it today.”
Rorke faced me, but he watched Elisabeth from the corner of his eye. “I’m no collections agency, Mr. Leblanc. Ms. Keller, please continue.”
Elisabeth’s sad eyes lifted to his. “It was a good place is all I was going to say.”
He jotted something on the paper in front of him. “And you were under the care of Dr. Fulmer during this time. Is that right?”
“Yes. He was amazing. Very understanding. Caring. Compassionate.”
“And did this procedure with him produce a child? In vitro, I mean?”
Her green eyes fluttered closed as anguish carved her smooth, white skin. “Yes, but—”
I couldn’t take any more. “What is this about?” I barked, desperate to regain the control I’d never had during the actual IVF process. Or in the years that followed, leading up to that very moment when I was being forced to watch Elisabeth relive the most painful experience of our lives.
“Just a few simple questions,” Rorke said, all but dismissing me from the conversation.
I slammed my palm on the table and rose to my feet. “Discussing my son is not simple for anyone in this room but you.”
“Roman!” Elisabeth scolded me for my outburst. But I’d have taken whatever heat she had to offer if it kept her from getting lost in the past.
I remained focused on Rorke. “Either tell me what this is about right fucking now or this interview is over.”
“A son?” His eyes flashed wide, cutting to the mirrored wall before landing back on me.
“Tripp,” Elisabeth breathed, pulling Rorke’s eyes back to her. “He died within an hour of being born.” She looked up and offered me a weak smile. “It’s okay. I can do this.”
Fan-fucking-tastic. She’s reassuring me.
I bit the inside of my cheek and gripped the back of my neck.
“Son of a bitch,” he mumbled under his breath. “And you didn’t try again?”
“None of our embryos made it to freeze,” she replied.
He once again cursed then steepled his fingers under his chin. “It’s my understanding you can do another cycle for more embryos. How many cycles did you do with Dr. Fulmer?”
I sucked in a sharp breath, and Elisabeth shifted in her chair, crossing then uncrossing her legs.