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  Annie dropped her phone.

  * * *

  Annie wanted to drive. For the ten minutes since she’d received Seth’s text, she’d been trying to get herself together but had managed no more than picking up her phone, noting the newly cracked screen, and pacing the sidewalk.

  Her mind reeled with all of the things she should be doing. Calls she had to make. She was shaking too much to worry with dialing. Or talking.

  Seth had come through for her. She just couldn’t believe it.

  She needed to go to him. To walk into his arms and feel at home for the first time in ten years.

  Which scared her more than anything.

  She didn’t fool herself, even for a second, that he’d changed his mind out of any latent desire to have children with her. Or with anyone.

  He’d reversed his stance because he thought he owed her for not being able to support her career choice. She knew him well enough to understand that.

  She couldn’t make more of the reversal than it was. For all their sakes.

  And she was going forward. There was not one single iota of doubt about that. Which meant that she had to wipe the idea of Seth Morgan being more than a biological element completely out of her picture.

  As though just having the thought made life clear again, Annie’s shaking slowed, and her strength and resolve returned. Fingering her screen carefully, she redialed the embryo storage facility, and then The Parent Portal, confirming her implantation on Saturday’s schedule. And then, stopping only to visit a phone store to purchase the newer model she’d been needing anyway, she headed back to Marie Cove, determined that her life was going to be happier than she’d ever known before.

  Determined to fight back against any memory of Seth, past or present, that tried to burst her newly formed bubble of joy. A feat made more difficult by the fact that her heart was not only filled with memories of her recent visit with him, but also with gratitude to him for having just made it possible for her dreams to come true.

  She was firmly resolved, though. She spent the next couple of days taking care of business, mostly cases, overseeing her small group of detectives, advising, assigning committee work. On Friday, she entered the interrogation room to get a confession that saved a young woman from having to testify in an abuse case against her uncle. She went to dinner with and brought home budget paperwork.

  Friday night was the hardest, anticipation for the next day’s appointment filling her with such a myriad of emotions that she had to struggle to maintain her equilibrium. She’d been meaning to spend some time in the room in her home that she’d chosen for the nursery due to its close proximity to the master suite, but nixed that idea as images and conversations from her past immediately swamped her.

  She left the room, but the memories wouldn’t let go.

  Recollections of the plans she and Seth had made in their San Diego home as they planned for the birth of their first child. Their painting the nursery together, laughing, crying and making love in the process. Their inability to conceive as planned, Seth being in law school, her re-upping in the navy, putting off her own education and career plans until he graduated, and then the fertility tests... It had all been such a volatile time.

  It was no wonder she’d felt...somewhat relieved to get deployment orders.

  When the familiar guilt for those feelings started to descend, Annie grabbed her keys and left the house. Thinking she’d head to the Irish pub that had become a gathering place for law enforcement. No beer for her that night—or the foreseeable future—but she could get an appetizer. Listen to the chatter...

  Instead, she found herself driving to Mission Viejo, a larger city just north of Marie Cove. She’d never lived there, but had a dynasty of living relatives she’d never met. Her mother’s family. They owned mansions. The Whitakers were in textiles, among other things. And probably politics, too, though they stayed squeaky clean. Annie had done her research over the years. Starting when they’d offered to pay for her education at an elite university upon her high school graduation. An offer she’d ignored.

  And culminating more recently in her receipt of yet another request for contact from her mother’s mother, whom she’d never met. Annie’s grandmother had been making the requests via an attorney for many years, but that last request had included a five-page letter. Clara had bared her soul and admitted that she was writing without her husband’s knowledge. Admitted that her life was empty, a charade of false smiles and empty platitudes without Chelsea and Annie.

  She’d talked about obligations. Choices.

  A single text message or attorney-delivered note would be enough to bring the woman comfort, Clara said. She’d respect all mandates for response guidelines. Clara would do whatever Annie needed, wanted, or requested, would abide by any stipulation Annie had, if they could please have contact.

  Annie had grown up with a very clear understanding that the Whitakers were cut off because they’d done the same to her mother when her father was alive, and only tried to get back in touch after he was gone. They’d called her father worthless, a bum, bad news, and disowned their daughter when she married him so he wouldn’t get their fortune. Not because Danny Bolin had ever given reason to think poorly of him; they’d just thought him beneath their daughter. So, Annie had read Clara’s letter and calmly put it away.

  But that Friday night, as she was shedding everything she’d left behind, the letter came back to her. She wasn’t going to make contact, but she drove by the gated and maturely landscaped property where Clara Whitaker still lived with her husband of more than sixty years. The home where Chelsea had been raised. She’d like to have driven there with her mother, to hear stories of climbing that tree, or being locked out of that gate. To know how it felt to have been a child running through the acres of lush grass.

  And when she was done sitting there, she drove home, took a hot shower and went to bed.

  To attempt to sleep through the rest of the last night of her old life.

  Chapter Four

  He didn’t know the time of Annie’s appointment. She’d said Saturday, not indicating morning or afternoon, early or late. So, Seth waited from early morning on. Just needing to know that Annie had done the deed. He decided to forgo a game of golf with the general and others he usually played with so he could take the call in privacy when it came. She hadn’t said she’d call. But he was certain she would. Annie was just that way—crossing all t’s, dotting all i’s. Surely, he was a t or an i.

  He chose to spend the day in his office. One of his current cases—a young sailor named Hunter Bradley, accused of robbery with assault, having no alibi but an exemplary record—held his attention. The corpsman was sitting in jail, fearing that his entire future was imploding while he remained powerless to help himself, and Seth was going to do what he could to alleviate his stress.

  From his initial look at the situation, including arrest statements, he wasn’t completely convinced of the sailor’s innocence, but he wasn’t at all convinced of his guilt, either.

  And maybe he was taking the case a bit too much to heart due to his current circumstances. The kid reminded him of Annie. From the time he’d first met her, she’d been passionate about helping young people in unfortunate circumstances get or keep their lives on track so they could lead productive, meaningful lives, contributing to society in a good way. Because of her father, he knew. Which was why she’d been so adamant about going into social work.

  Who could ever have foreseen that, instead, because of some fluke assignment, she’d find her calling, her ability to help, in law enforcement?

  Who could ever have foreseen that the day would pass, that The Parent Portal clinic hours would be over, without him hearing from her?

  Seth called his department investigator before he left the office late that Saturday afternoon, telling him about the list he’d just sent over, things for the officer to look into pursuant to the Bradley case. He made it home, into his swimsuit and through twenty laps in the landscaped pool in his backyard before dialing his phone again.

  Dripping wet, a towel around his neck, he stood out in the privacy of his walled-in backyard, looked at the orange trees, the bougainvillea, and waited for Annie to pick up. Had she had the procedure, and had just opted not to call? A guy couldn’t get on with things, couldn’t let go, until he knew whether or not she’d gotten implanted.

  “Hello?” He could hear the firmness in her tone, the no-nonsense, capable and strong lieutenant talking, and she sounded like she’d developed a cold, too.

  Or had been crying.

  He knew his Annie. She’d been crying.

  His gut sank and he stepped up to the diving board he rarely used, knowing that he wasn’t free until the process she’d put in motion was done. Which he’d pretty much determined happened once she was inseminated. Then they were no longer dealing with joint embryos; it would be all on her. She’d be engaged in a new process—the growing and birthing of her child.

  “Seth? You there?”

  She’d recognized the incoming call. “Yes. Sorry. I...there was...a distraction just as you picked up.” He stood there on the board, gazing out into the clear blue water. “I’m just calling to follow up,” he told her. “Just making sure that you don’t need anything else from me.” There could be an errant signature. Some form or another particular on which the storage lab, or The Parent Portal, would require his sign-off. He didn’t want some unexpected, random call from any of them in the coming days.

  When he shut the door this time, it had to stay shut.

  “Nope, we’re done.”

  That was it. Giving him no reassurance at a
ll, since he didn’t know any details of what had been done. The ownership papers? The implantation?

  Did the embryos even exist anymore?

  “What does that mean, exactly?”

  “I don’t need anything more from you.” Her voice might have wobbled on that last bit, like she wasn’t quite done crying. He could have imagined the sound, but didn’t think so.

  He couldn’t hang up without knowing that she was okay. Not if he wanted to have any peace in his head.

  “Did you make today’s appointment?”

  Or, God forbid, had they already destroyed the eggs by the time she got back with the lab? He’d made clear in the legal document he’d sent that they weren’t to do anything until they’d spoken with her again. He should have texted her first, then sent the document. He’d just wanted to let her know it was done—and be done.

  Her answer wasn’t coming quickly enough.

  Sweating now, he sat on the board, needing to dive headfirst into the depths of the pool. But didn’t dare test the phone’s water-resistant capabilities. If he lost her, she might not pick back up.

  “Annie?” he prompted after several seconds.

  “Y-yes. Yes, I’m here,” she said. “And yes, I had the appointment.”

  She had. And hadn’t called. And why would she? He was telling himself not to ask when he said, “Did everything go okay?”

  “Yes.”

  “So...you’re implanted?” Breath held, he awaited the reply.

  “Yes.”

  The whoosh that burst through him was far more than air in his lungs. The force of it leaving him a bit dizzy, he tried to find reason within himself. To ground himself. While suspended on the end of a board with enough give to rock up and down with his movement.

  Annie had their embryos inside her uterus.

  He couldn’t grasp the reality of it.

  “I have to go, Seth.”

  He couldn’t say goodbye. Left it up to her to do so. Waited. And eventually said, “Are you sorry you did it? Having regrets?”

  That could be an issue he’d need to know about. If his biological child was unwanted...

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Then why have you been crying?” There, he put the fact on the table. He knew her. Couldn’t pretend otherwise.

  “Because I’m hormonal,” she told him, but still didn’t hang up.

  Because she was hanging on? To him? No, that didn’t follow. He was the one who’d called.

  She’d had the procedure. No more guessing. It was over. A done deal.

  “You were never one to get overly emotional,” he found the sense to say. “Not even when you were taking hormones.” Part of their early fertility efforts. Before the more complete testing of both of them that had ultimately determined that there was no scientific reason for them not to conceive.

  She said nothing. And didn’t hang up.

  “Tell me why you were crying.”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t want to know.” The setting sun left a soft glow over the yard. The water. Seth relaxed into it as he stayed on the phone with Annie.

  “How can you be so sure I was crying?”

  “I know you.”

  “Well, I know you, too, and trust me to know that you don’t want to know why I was crying.”

  It was like they were at the beginning again—her a young recruit in Sealift Command and him a more seasoned sailor with US Fleet Forces, but no more mature when it came to the love that hit them both so powerfully. And quickly.

  “I want to know anyway.” Nothing kid-like about that fact. He lifted his thigh, feeling the sting of board peeling from stuck skin, but didn’t get up. Just lifted the other leg to free it, as well.

  “I was crying for you, Seth.”

  For him? Because she wanted him, was crying out for him, in need of him? Heart pounding, he acknowledged that she’d been right. He didn’t want to know.

  There was nothing good to come of him knowing that.

  “I’m finally seeing my dream come to reality. Today, I got the single most thing I’ve wanted since I can remember...to have a baby inside me. But you...”

  She let the words trail off, and he was done, too. “You have no reason to pity me, Annie,” he told her quite clearly. “I didn’t have any idea of the breadth of opportunities the world had to offer back then. I’ve reached the culmination of dreams that I hadn’t even known were possible.” As he sat there, he couldn’t envision anything clearly, but he’d been to so many fantastic places all over the world, had been wined and dined like a king, by kings—or rulers of nations at least. He was more of a somebody than he’d ever imagined being, having done work that mattered on a national level to his country and would continue to matter long after he was gone.

  “Then I’m happy for you, Seth,” Annie said, her tone growing stronger. “Happy for both of us. We’re both finally getting what we wanted.”

  He could do nothing but agree with that. And when she told him goodbye, say goodbye back. It was done.

  Over.

  Leaving his phone on the edge of the board, Seth fell forward into the water and sank to the bottom.

  Stayed there until the lack of air in his lungs required action.

  And then slowly surfaced.

  * * *

  Annie lay low on Sunday. Dr. Miller had told her she was fine to resume normal activity after the time she spent resting at the clinic immediately following the procedure. But she opted to give the two embryos the best opportunity to adhere calmly and strongly inside her uterus.

  Calmly and strongly. Her mother used to say the words a lot in trying times. They’d been her father’s mantra.

  She read some. A lighthearted tale of sisters trying to make their way in a small town, but put the book down when one character suddenly introduced a love interest. Watched some TV, but not for long. Every show seemed to have some kind of romantic element or another. With her tablet poised on her rib cage, she perused baby furniture for a while. Just testing herself to see what stood out to her, so she’d know for the future.

  There’d be no actual baby shopping until a pregnancy was confirmed.

  And she avoided all phone calls. Her team knew to 911-text her if something came up—which was the protocol for all of them on their days off. Anyone else, even Christa McGinnis, a single cop like herself who was the closest thing she had to a best friend, would leave a message.

  She didn’t want to talk to Christa. The woman was a great cop. She’d know something was different. And Annie wasn’t telling anyone about her baby plans until she had something to tell. No way she was going to have people looking at her with a question in their eyes, wanting to know if she’d heard anything. Or pity her if she got her period.

  She lived alone. That meant tackling life’s most intimate issues alone.

  When she knew she had a baby coming...then she’d open the door. And Christa would be the first one inside. She planned to ask her colleague to be the baby’s guardian in the event that anything happened to her...

  Because Seth most definitely wouldn’t want to raise his child.

  She was getting ahead of herself.

  And the child wasn’t his. Half of each embryo had been, but he’d signed away ownership of them. Per Parent Portal policy, and legal documents he’d signed years ago, she could contact him if there was ever any need to do so—and he could contact her, too, if ever he wanted to ask how the child was doing, or request contact.

  She didn’t have to give him contact, though. She did have to let him know how the child was doing, if he asked. He wouldn’t.

  Propped up on pillows, she lay there on her couch, in leggings and a long, button-down shirt, and stared at the ceiling. Saw a smudge and thought about having the ceilings painted. Beige instead of their current white. Beige would be warmer for any little being who might be spending months lying on his or her back, staring up at that ceiling.