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“What’s the problem?”
“My son. Vivian and Wally used to date. He found out about us yesterday.”
“And judging by your tone, I bet it went swimmingly.”
“Oh, yes,” I mumbled dryly. “So great. I don’t suppose you have any advice about seeing my son’s ex-girlfriend, do you?”
“No, sorry. You’ll have to figure that one out by yourself.”
“Thought so.” I ran a hand through my hair. “Keep me posted on the transfer. Let me know if she needs anything.”
“Will do, boss. Hang in there.”
I ended the call, tossing my phone onto the kitchen island. I couldn’t tell Vivian how I felt. Things weren’t that simple.
The truth of the matter was that I didn’t do things in halves. When I committed to something —someone— I committed wholeheartedly. Marriage. Kids. The whole nine yards. I could imagine her with a ring on her finger, puttering around a house that I bought for her to live comfortably. Maybe a bun in the oven.
But I didn’t know if I had the strength to do it all over again. I thought I’d found happiness with Melissa. I gave everything I could and that still wasn’t enough. I wasn’t as naive as I used to be; I wouldn’t let rose-tinted glasses skew reality anymore. What if things between Vivian and me fell apart like they did with Melissa?
And even if Wally were on board with our relationship, how would it work? Vivian was still in college. She had goals and aspirations. Her life was just beginning. I doubted she wanted to get married so young. I doubted she wanted children. She certainly never made any mention of it. What if we wanted different things? What if we got together and she eventually came to resent me for it?
I couldn’t stand the thought.
Vivian was beautiful. Intelligent. Funny and sweet and all things good. I was sure she’d eventually move on. Find someone more her speed, more aligned with her life goals. Vivian would settle down when she was ready, start a family with someone she could grow old with.
I convinced myself that it was better this way.
It had to be.
Chapter 29
Vivian
The new safehouse was nice. Lance, my new bodyguard, was nice, too. It was all very nice.
But I was fucking miserable without Jesse. I missed him. Found myself aching for him. I couldn’t count the number of times I caught myself thinking about him throughout the day.
I was in bed, curled up in a ball beneath the fine goose down duvet. I was surrounded by a mountain of fluffy pillows, smooth silk sheets gliding against my skin. My little nest was the only place I felt stable, safe. Lance would check on me every now and then, knocking on my door to see if I needed anything, but I always sent him away.
What I needed was to tell Jesse I was pregnant.
What I needed was for Jesse to tell me everything was going to be okay.
I’d consider Lance a miracle worker if he could get me both those things.
Gently rubbing my stomach, I wondered how my little one was doing. I was overwhelmed at first. I was being hunted by a cartel, for goodness’ sake. The last thing I wanted was to drag an unborn child into the mix. The mental imagery of Chicago’s criminal underbelly and cute baby showers clashed inside my brain. They were as opposite as opposites could get.
Yet the idea of being with child excited me. I was going to be a mother. There was life within me, a hopeful beacon of light despite the turmoil of my situation. The possibilities were endless. Thoughts of picking out schools and teaching them how to ride their first bike and reading them bedtime stories every night brought a smile to my face.
I was sure I’d be a good mother. I learned by example exactly whatnotto do. My memories of my own mother were foggy, but what little I could recall wasn’t the greatest. I wasn’t addicted to anything like she’d been. I had an education. I was independent. I had a good head on my shoulders. As far as I was concerned, I was already leagues above her in the parenting department.
I’d always loved children, too. Growing up in different foster homes, I came across countless kids going through the same things I was. We looked out for each other. We understood the struggle of trying to fit in. I always paid particular attention to the younger ones, kids who were new to the system and afraid to open up. I did what I could to take care of them, help them along. If I could look out for them, I was sure I could look out for a baby of my own.
But not with the Azure Cartel keeping me on my toes.
I needed to deal with them as soon as possible. As long as they were still hunting me, that meant my baby was in danger, too. Whether it was self-perseverance or an innate motherly instinct, I threw my covers off and got to work. Enough was enough. They were going down.
I got out of bed and shifted through the contents of my duffle bag, retrieving the USB I’d swiped from Blue Cloud Financial weeks ago. I’d hidden it within the inner lining of the bag for safe keeping, afraid to lose it.
