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PROLOGUE
FEBRUARY GRAHAM
I half-heartedly listen to what’s happening on the phone, instead, I’m drawing hearts all over my desk calendar. Not just any hearts, but full-on middle school Mr & Mrs hearts. See, I have a problem, well, several problems, but the main one is that I’m in love with my boss. The head-over-heels, unrequited but no less real kind of love. It doesn’t keep me from doing my job, but it’s on my mind every minute of every day. I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to be Mrs Connall Ahearn. I can’t help wondering what he’d feel like inside of me. What it would feel like for him to take my virginity, which I saved for the man who would make me feel alive. It’s him. He’s what makes me feel alive.
“Are you listening to me, February Irene Graham?”
“Yes, of course,” I lie when she jostles me back to the present.
“I don’t understand why you want to do this now, " my normally sweet mother, Donna, shouts at me over the phone. Last night, I told both of my mother’s that my sister contacted me. My bio dad was never, ever mentioned in our house. I never needed a dad, but I’ve been thinking about him lately. Mostly, I just want to ensure there are no illnesses I could pass on to my future children. I’ve been thinking about children more and more lately. I’m too young for my biological clock to be ticking, right?
“We went over this last night. It’s just something that I need to do. It has nothing to do with you.” We went over this at length last night over dinner. I don’t live at home anymore. I have an apartment near downtown, but we try to have dinner a few times a week. They weren’t interested in what I had to say. They were very vocal about it, and there were tears. Ultimately, I decided I had to do this with or without their support. I won’t love them any less than I do if I find this out. I won’t. I don’t know why they can’t see that, but honestly, that’s their problem. They’re my mother’s; nothing will ever change that.
“If you love us, you won’t do this,” she says, sniffling. I can’t believe she’s crying again. God, the mom guilt trip has begun. Is there a class new moms take to learn how to do this so accurately?
“That’s very manipulating,” I tell her. They raised me to speak my mind, but when I do, they hate it. I can’t win, not in this situation. What can I do to let them know that I love them? I don’t understand why they are so insecure. I’ve given them no reason to think I would stop loving them. I could never.
It’s not like my whole life has been like this. My mother’s met in college during a time when they couldn’t get married. They didn’t have to hide their love, but they couldn’t express it like they wanted to. My birth mom is Donna. I call her Mama. My other mom, Mommy, is Martha. They wanted me so badly that they went to a sperm bank. My childhood was full of love and laughter. I never wanted for anything, and I got away with murder. So, I can understand why they are upset, but at the same time, I have to do this. I have to know where I come from. I did a DNA test, and the ball got rolling. My sister, January, started looking for him. He left us some pretty vague clues to find him if we wanted to. January is pregnant right now, so I’m taking over the list she and her fiancé put together.
“I’m at work right now, Mom. I can’t get into this again.”
“You’re being ungrateful.”
“I’m being ungrateful?” I shout. “I’m being ungrateful? You have no idea what ungrateful is, Mama. I’ve been a perfect daughter. Perfect. I have to do this. If you and Mommy can't be on board, then we have nothing else to discuss.” I slam the phone back down on the receiver, spilling my coffee in the process.
I’m so angry, I’m shaking. I’ve never done anything like that in my twenty-three years. It takes me a second to calm down enough to remember that I’m at work at the job I love. I’ve been working at Ahearn Investments for a year. I’m Connall’s personal assistant/secretary. I keep his professional and personal calendars. I know how he takes his coffee and what his favorite meal is. I know everything about the man, and to say that I’m in love with him would be an understatement. See the hearts on my desk… He’s starred in every single dream I’ve had since I met him. He’s got this whole Jeremy Sisto, Law and Order, thing going on, meaning he’s hot as hell, but it’s so much more than that. He helps old ladies cross the street and donates tons of money to charities all over Kansas City. He also doesn’t date. Ever. I’ve never had to buy his girlfriend flowers or little trinkets because he doesn’t have one. Believe me, I’d know if he had one. I know everything. Everything.
I’m staring at the phone I just slammed down, remembering the conversation I just had, and that’s when the tears start streaming down my face. I hate that tears are my go-to when I’m frustrated.
“February, what’s wrong?” I close my eyes in shame. I hate that he’s going to see me like this. My mascara is surely running down my face. When he puts his hand on my shoulder, my pussy clenches. What’s wrong with me? Now is not the time to be turned on.
Shit, this sucks, I think as I turn to look up at him. The look of concern on his face surprises me as we rarely discuss anything personal, but I know that I need to answer him. Is it crazy that all I want him to do is sweep me up into his arms and hold me? I bet he gives great hugs, among other things.
PROLOGUE
CONNALL AHEARN
I run out of my office when I hear the keeper of my heart screech. My first thought is that she is hurt, which I don't think I could handle. Seeing her in pain would be unbearable. Hell, as it is, she requested an extended leave starting next week, and I did not decline the request. But then that would make me an asshole since she never misses a day and has a ton of vacation time. I just want to know where she is going and with whom, but now is not the time to figure that out.
When I make it out of my office to her desk, I find her not injured but instead staring at her phone, with tear tracks down her face. This makes my heart ache, and then my hands turn to fists. Who the fuck made my February cry? “February, what’s wrong?” I touch her shoulder and try not to make this about me and the spark going through my arm when touching her for the first time. Her shoulders sag, and she looks so defeated.
“I just got into an argument with one of my mom’s.” I start for a second, the shock on my face obvious at the revelation that she has two moms, but I recover quickly. “I mean why can’t they see how important this is to me? I mean, I get it, but they should know by now no matter what I find I love them,” she babbles for a few minutes before I try to interject.
“It sounds like you need to talk. How about I take you to lunch and let you vent?” I see her contemplating this, but then she shakes her head.
“No. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been having this conversation with her at work. It was unprofessional of me. You don’t have to worry.” She all but dismisses my suggestion and without thinking, I grip her elbow to prevent her from walking away.
“It's a done deal. Grab your purse,” I tell her with a little more force than I mean to. Her eyes widen at my demand before she nods and does as I have said. I don’t want to have to drive, so we walk down the street to this Italian place we always order from and sit. Once our orders have been taken, I turn to her and place my hand on hers. “Now talk to me.” She swallows, fighting a battle with herself about confiding in her boss and just having someone to talk to. I know the moment having a willing ear wins.
“As you heard I have two moms. Obviously I have always known there was dad out there somewhere. A little while ago I finally decided to go to the sperm bank and get his profile. I knew it wasn’t going to tell me his name but just having some information like his height, ethnicity and his goals was more than I could hope for. Until the nurse at the clinic told me he allotted twelve deposits that could be made and then his specimen should be destroyed. During that visit she asked me if I wanted to be included in this chat that could bring me in contact with any other children born from his sperm and that is how I found my older sister January.” I look at her and smirk.
“You are both named after a month. Is that a coincidence?” She shakes her head.
“No, that was one of his caveats, if you will. Of course he would be able to do nothing if they didn’t, but my mom felt it was the least she could do to honor the man who made her, and my mom Martha’s dream come true.”
“That makes sense.”
“Anyway, January went on a six-week-long journey following clues trying to find him. When she fell in love with a retired soldier who was helping her and now she is pregnant, so her search has stopped, and I offered to pick up where she left off.” That is when the lightbulb goes off.
