I can’t have children …
He knew, deep down, that Lucy’s inability to conceive was a burden she lived with every day. He hadn’t really understood the pain until after her nephew was born and he saw the anguish in her eyes when she looked at the baby. He’d convinced her that he didn’t love her less—how could he? She was everything to him. But he knew Lucy better than anyone, knew how she internalized her emotions, how she ached and survived.
What do you really fear?
He didn’t know. Dammit, he didn’t want her to think she was somehow … less because he had a kid with another woman. It wasn’t like he planned it or knew about it. It had happened, and now he was dealing with the truth twelve years later.
It would be okay. It had to be okay. Lucy would understand. Sean would show her and tell her how much he loved her, and she would understand that he really didn’t have a chance to tell her about Jesse before he left, and that telling her over the phone wasn’t an option.
It simply wasn’t an option.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Lucy woke up at dawn. Four hours of sleep. Hardly enough after the last two days, but better than when insomnia plagued her three months ago.
She considered an early-morning swim, but after last night’s exercise, she was still physically tired. She went downstairs to Sean’s gym and jogged on the treadmill for three miles, working out the kinks and tight muscles, then ran hard for two miles. It helped. By the time she was done, she was starving. She hadn’t gone to the store, but a few weeks ago she’d stuck some homemade tamales in the freezer. Who said tamales weren’t for breakfast?
She popped them in the oven and went upstairs to shower and dress. By the time she was done, so were the tamales, and she ate two of the three with her morning coffee while reading her email. Carina had sent a message the night before with photos of John Patrick and a note that she and her husband, Nick, would come out a week before the wedding and couldn’t wait to see her, Sean, and the house. Which was good, because Sean and Carina hadn’t hit it off when they first met. Mostly, Lucy couldn’t wait to spend time with her nephew. He’d be nearly five months old by then.
Lucy cleaned up the kitchen, then went upstairs to put on a little makeup, braid her hair, and grab her gun and blazer. She was slipping on her low-heeled boots when the doorbell rang.
Out of habit, she checked the security screen Sean had installed in their bedroom. An attractive blonde stood there, well dressed and obviously upset or angry about something. A neighbor? Maybe. Lucy knew the neighbors to the north, an older retired couple who’d lived in the neighborhood for nearly forty years. Didn’t Sean mention a female lawyer across the street? She’d referred a job for Sean at a bank or something.
Lucy went downstairs, cautious but not suspicious. She didn’t like always assuming the worst when something unexpected happened. People knocked on doors all the time.
She opened the door. “May I help you?”
“I need to talk to Sean.”
“And you are?”
She hesitated, just a minute, before saying, “Madison Spade.”
Spade. Sean’s ex-girlfriend who’d hired him to find her son and husband. She must be beside herself, and if Sean was deep in the case he might not have had a chance to call. Lucy understood how frustrating that could be. And worrisome.
“Come in,” Lucy said. “I’m Lucy Kincaid, Sean’s fiancée. Can I get you some coffee?”
She seemed surprised at Lucy’s offer. “No, but thank you. I need to talk to Sean and he’s not returning my calls.”
Lucy led Madison into the living room and motioned for her to take a seat. The woman didn’t, but Lucy did to make her feel more comfortable. Madison sat a moment later.
“I have to talk to him now.”
“I’m sure he told you that when he’s working, there are times he can’t call—it may not be safe, he may not have new information. I can assure you that Sean knows what he’s doing. Both he and Kane have done this many times.”
“But I told him yesterday not to go!”
Lucy was confused. “Why?”
“Carson called me. I spoke to him. I talked to my son. They’re fine. They’ll be home Friday. Sean should never have gone down there!”
Something odd was going on. “You need to trust that Sean knows what he’s doing.”
“He hates me. That’s why he’s doing this.”
“He doesn’t hate you, Madison.” Lucy was generally very good at reading people, but she was the first to admit that complex relationships weren’t her specialty.
“And you’re being so nice to me. You must be a saint.”