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She tilts her head back and laughs, a deep, husky sound that reaches inside my chest and creates a warmth I’m not prepared to deal with. The first time I’ve heard her truly laugh.

“I’m glad the three of you are getting closer.”

I lead her into a turn, pulling her body closer to mine as we navigate the dance floor in time to the music.

“We are. Slowly.”

“I don’t think speed matters in a case like this.”

I tilt my head to one side as I gaze down at her. “Spoken like someone who has dealt with cases like this before.”

“Far too often. I’ve dealt with lovers, scorned spouses, secret children, broken-hearted friends.”

I frown. “That sounds terrible.”

“It could be. There was also a lot of reward. Helping people figure out what kind of legacy they wanted to leave, how to help the ones they loved even when they were no longer here.”

Guilt twists in my gut. Yes, our night together was one of mutual pleasure. But it cost her the career she loved.

“How did you get into it?”

“I knew I always wanted to go into something with numbers. I loved math. It was like a puzzle with numbers that was always wanting to be solved. I liked the challenge.” The smile fades from her face as her eyes grow distant with memories. “When I was sixteen, my mother was in an accident. She was riding her bikeand a car blew through a stop sign and hit her. She ended up with a couple broken ribs and a concussion. But it could have been worse. More like…”

Her voice trails off. My grip tightens on hers. When we met, it had only been a few months since her mother had passed from a heart attack no one saw coming. The thought of losing my own mother is something I can’t even begin to contemplate, let alone so suddenly. Knowing that Alessandra had a special relationship with her own mother, that she had nearly lost her once before, is a pain I feel as if it were my own.

“When she got back from the hospital, she set up a life insurance policy. She sat me down, outlined everything she had: student loans, bank account information, the insurance policy. It was overwhelming. But I latched on to the numbers, the patterns. I looked stuff up and found a better insurance policy.”

“And your passion was born.”

She smiles slightly. “I guess you could say it like that. Especially once I found out the kind of salary I could earn if I work my way to the top, it seemed like a natural way to go. To not have the uncertainty I grew up with.”

She hesitates, then looks up at me. My chest tightens at the naked vulnerability in her eyes. This is what I want: her trust, her surrender. My guilt deepens. Because I know that whatever she’s about confide in me, I’m not ready to confide in her.

I don’t know if I ever will be.

“I don’t remember much of my father. The few memories I do have are usually him and my mom yelling at each other. They were college sweethearts. She got pregnant. He told her she could go back to school but should stay home with me so they didn’t have to pay for daycare. He told her he would work and take care of everything.”

Just like that, I have a better understanding of Alessandra’s need for independence. Her mother trusted a man, just as mine did, and was punished for it.

“He stuck around for the first three years before he decided he’d had enough of working all the time.” One corner of her mouth turns up into a sad smile. “I think the worst part is he had the potential to be a really good dad. I have a few memories where he was everything I wanted in a father. But he didn’t have the drive to make it happen.”

I glance down at her stomach. Emotion, fierce and deeper than anything I’ve ever experienced, fills me. Alessandra and I have both experienced what life is like without a father. Our son will never experience such a reality. He will always know that I am there for him.

“I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, but I’m not,” she says with a lift of her chin. Strength and defiance. “If he didn’t want to be there, then it was a good thing he left. The worst part were my grandparents, or specifically, my grandmother. They weren’t wealthy like this—” she nods to the glittering crowd around us “—but well off enough that they had plans for their little girl that didn’t include a wastrel of a son-in-law or an unplanned pregnancy.”

Blood starts to pound at my temples, a serious drum as I foresee the direction this conversation is about to take.

“What happened?”

“Once my parents split, we moved back to my mother’s hometown. I don’t know the details, but I know my grandparents provided some financial support.” She sighs. “It came with conditions like her agreeing to have dinner with one of my grandmother’s best friend’s sons that she thought more appropriate as a potential husband than my father. They paid for her degree as long as she was pursuing a degree they approved. Nursing was not on that list. Not prestigious enough.” Her halflaugh is sharp, biting. “She made my mom feel more like a commodity than a daughter. A bargaining chip to get her into a better lifestyle. My grandmother also never let her forget the mistakes she had made, first in getting together with my father and then becoming pregnant and then getting married.”

“But she broke free.”

Alessandra nods, but the pain on her face cuts through me. How did I ever think her impervious? Cold?

“The night Mom cut her parents out of her life, we were over for dinner. I was six. Sitting on the couch. My mom and grandmother were arguing, but it wasn’t anything that struck me as abnormal. They often argued.” She shakes her head. “But that night was different. My mom was refusing to go out with the son of one of my grandmother’s friends. She was furious. She told my mom that having a permanent reminder of the worst mistake my mom had ever made humiliated her. That…” Her throat works as she swallows, her eyes drifting from mine and focusing on some distant point over my shoulder. “That I looked just like my father.”