“The very same.”
“So that kid …”
“Is twenty-six years old.”
He leans back. “Damn. No wonder you’re so angry.”
“I missed everything. There’s no way I can ever get that time back.”
“Why didn’t she tell you?”
I draw in a deep breath. “She was railroaded into an abusive marriage with a much older man and stuck in it all this time.”
His mouth falls open. “How does that happen in this day and age?”
I shrug. “It’s messy. God, I was so angry today, Sean, but it’s next to impossible to be angry at her. The shit she’s been through.” I shake my head in disbelief.
“Wow. That poor woman. It’s good she has you.” He studies me closely. “She does have you, right? You’re not pulling away because of this?”
My eyebrows rise. “Since when have you ever encouraged me to stick around with one woman.”
“Well, never.” He grins. “But this is the woman. And you share a son. That’s a big reason to stay in one place.”
He sees it—everyone does. At one stage, I reached a point in my life where I thought that mooning over a teenage romance was stupid. But all these years later, she’s still the best thing that ever happened to me.
What we had back then was real.
If we’d had more time—been given the chance to have our baby together, then maybe my life would have been very different.
Would we have still been together? Who knows.
But life is giving me a second chance to be with Emma, and I’m not about to pass that up.
Even if deep down, I’m mad at her.
Fifteen
Caleb
It’s no shock when Noah shows up at the office the next day.
He looked as surprised as I did when he walked into that room. And today he turns heads as he walks into reception and asks for me.
My office door is open, and I leap up at the sound of his voice before making my way to my door.
Freya flicks a gaze between us and her eyebrows rise. There’s no missing the resemblance.
“Noah. Come in.”
He digs his hands in the pockets of his jeans and flashes a smile at Freya as he makes his way past her and through into my office.
I close the door behind us—no one needs to hear our conversation. I don’t have a large team, but they gossip like any other workplace.
“Take a seat.” I indicate toward the couch I have against the wall. “Coffee? I’ve got a machine.”
“Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks.”
His gaze sweeps the room. I’m not much of an office type—it’s pretty bare. I don’t have customers back here, and the only reason the office exists is that I need a home base for my staff and somewhere for calls to be taken.
