“We didn’t have the money for another fresh cycle,” she admitted. “We had to clean out our savings and then borrow the rest from my parents to pay for the first one.” She paused and then blurted, “Besides, Roman and I divorced six months after Tripp was born. There was no time. Even if there was money.”
Wasn’t that the damn truth.
Time was never on my side. Only months after our divorce, Rubicon had been created. If only she and I had stuck it out a few more weeks, I could have filled our house with a basketball team of children. She could have stayed pregnant for the rest of her natural life if that’s what she’d wanted, and I would have happily lay on the floor, acting as a human jungle gym for each and every one of those kids, content for the rest of my life knowing I had given her that.
We could have been happy…again.
Fucking time.
“Was he buried?” Rorke asked, hope filling his eyes.
“Easy,” I warned.
Elisabeth answered behind me. “Cremated.”
“Dammit.” Rorke closed his eyes, rubbing them with his thumb and his forefinger before opening them again. “I’m sorry, Ms. Keller, Mr. Leblanc. I’m sure this is a hard topic for both of you, so I’m going to be blunt here. We were unaware your son had passed away. We were hoping…” He stopped and trained his unfocused gaze on the door. “We were hoping to get a DNA sample from your son.”
“Why?” Elisabeth and I asked in unison.
He leaned forward and lifted his pen off the table, tapping it to his chin as he answered. “We have reason to believe that Dr. Fulmer or one of his technicians accepted a bribe and possibly switched embryos in the lab. Your name was brought up during the questioning of a possible witness.”
Elisabeth reacted immediately, reaching up and clamping my hand in hers, squeezing hard as she gasped.
Slowly sinking down to the chair, I rumbled, “I’m sorry. What did you just say?”
Rorke continued to explain. “I honestly can’t get into specifics, as we are still looking into all avenues. But we were refused the warrants for DNA on the child in question due to a lack of evidence.”
Elisabeth’s hand flew up to cover her mouth. “The child?”
His shoulders rolled forward in defeat, but he nodded. “Yes, there is a possibility one of your embryos survived. But the supposed birth father has denied us all access. We were hoping to take the back door on this one, proving foul play based on your child’s DNA. Then get the warrant once and for all.”
I was vaguely aware of Whitman and Kaplin joining the conversation, tossing Rorke a million different questions laced with legal jargon, but my mind was spinning.
Bribes?
Embryos switched?
A child?
Our child?
It was a Thursday morning. I was supposed to be in a meeting with my marketing team, and instead, I was sitting in a police station, next to my ex-wife, finding out that we might have a child laughing, smiling, and breathing on Earth.
What the fucking hell was going on?
I finally swung my head to Elisabeth. Her face was pale, and tears streamed down her cheeks. Without thought or consideration, I snaked an arm out and looped it around her shoulders, pulling her into my side. She came all too willingly, crashing into my chest just before sobs overtook her.
It was dark outside when I woke up on my couch. My heels were gone, but I was still in the same skirt and top I’d pulled on in a hurry that morning.
Police station.
“Oh God,” I croaked.
I wasn’t sure how I’d gotten home, but my feet must have moved at some point, even though my mind was still rooted in the middle of that police station.
Embryos switched.
“Oh God,” I croaked.
Then I heard his voice in my kitchen.
“Cancel everything tomorrow and forward all of my calls to Glen. Yeah. No.” Pause. Sigh. “I don’t know when I’ll be back. Let’s just play this by ear.”
Roman.
“Oh. God.” I groaned, dragging my body up to the sitting position. My head objected, but I guessed that’s what you got when you cried yourself dry of tears.
A child.
“Oh God,” I breathed, dropping my face into my hands and settling my elbows on my knees.
“You’re awake,” Roman said, stating the obvious.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of his bare feet carrying him my way.
I closed my eyes and smarted, “You’re in my house.”
The couch sank beside me. Then I felt his hand on my back.
His strong, kind, gentle, soothing hand. Damn it. I screwed my eyes shut.
“How ya feeling?”
“Like I woke up in the Twilight Zone.”
He chuckled. “Not far from the truth.”
I scrubbed my face then did my best to smooth my sleep-mussed hair down. “Thanks for, um…bringing me home.”
His hand moved up to the base of my neck, where it squeezed, massaging with his thumb before repeating the process on the other side. I lacked the energy to fight it and a pleasure-filled moan escaped my throat.
He chuckled again. “I ordered takeout.”
His torturous hand continued kneading my neck, leaving me unable to argue. I hadn’t eaten since earlier that morning. Food, even takeout, actually sounded amazing, and my stomach growled in agreement.
However, just as quickly, I lost my appetite.