“I like Taylor. She’s been around for a year and feels like one of the family.”
His cheeks rose and the flakes of gold sparkled in his eyes. “We weren’t hiding. We’re trying to be professional.”
Claire rubbed his shoulder. “As long as you know that we know, we’re good. I don’t want to ever make you feel uncomfortable. Honesty has always been our strong suit.”
“All of you are our responsibility,” Phil said. “Neither Taylor nor I nor Eric would allow anything to happen. I don’t want you to think our loyalty is divided.”
“It better be,” Claire proclaimed.
Phil took a step back. “What do you mean?”
“When you first started working for me, it was just me. Then you brought Tony back, and then Nichol came. Now our little man is on his way.” Claire smiled. “I’ve never felt less protected because you had more than me to babysit.”
Phil’s smile broadened at the term. “Babysit…” He said shaking his head.
“Taylor can be on that list too. I know you, and I know you won’t let any of us down.”
“Thank you. Just so you know,” Phil said as he opened the door, “there’s only one Mrs. Alexander.”
Until we have seen someone’s darkness, we don’t really know who that person is. Until we have forgiven someone’s darkness, we don’t really know what love is.
—Marianne Williamson
TONY WOKE WITH a start from the sensation of falling—from where he didn’t know—down to an unknown chasm. The downward sensation could either end in a crash, the ramifications undetermined, or by sheer will. That wasn’t even a conceivable choice. Anthony Rawlings couldn’t plummet into the unidentified abyss; he chose will. The subconscious decision was evidenced by his increased heart rate as well as elevated temperature. Tony’s brow glistened in the moonlit room. Taking a deep breath, he reached for his anchor, his rock, his life, but the bed beside him was empty. The more he groped toward Claire’s side of the bed, the more he found only cooled, lonely sheets. Looking to the clock near the side of the bed, he saw that it was a little after 2:00.
Sighing, he threw back the covers, sat, and allowed his eyes to adjust to the darkness. “Claire?” he called, quietly, so as to not wake her if she were asleep somewhere else. Evenings past, he’d found her that way, sleeping on the sofa before the large fireplace. Her back had been giving her bouts of pain, and Tony knew that some nights she was having increasing difficulty staying comfortable and asleep. Not finding her on the sofa, he smirked. The best chance of her location was behind the door to their private bathroom. Nichol had done the same thing to her, especially late in the pregnancy. Two or three trips in one night were not uncommon.
Opening the door, he stepped onto the cool tile floor. The room was empty. As he returned to the suite, he heard her voice coming from the darkened nursery. “Tony, why are you awake?”