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“Yes, Harper,” she says, detecting my hesitance.
“What’s his name?”
She lowers the cup from her mouth as her face twists. “Who?”
“My father, well, the man who—”
“Jeremy Burton,” she says, cutting me off and sparing me any explanation.
“Oh.” My shoulders drop, thankful she made it easy for me. “Thanks.” I scratch my head. “It’s not like I want to go looking for him.” I toss my hand out. “It’s just. I wanted to know.”
“Honey.” Her eyes soften. “He’s dead. He died three years ago. He was shot on the job.”
I stare at her, unsure how I feel.
Her cell rings. She walks over to the table and picks it up.
“It’s Lisa,” she says, cueing me she needs to answer it.
It’s probably about an escort call.
“Okay.” I walk over and kiss her on the cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She waves at me before I head out the door, still unsure how I feel about the man who had something to do with my birth being dead.
It’s not as if I wanted to go looking for him or get to know him. Sure, maybe I’d search for him on the internet. I guess I still can, but honestly, why would I? For my curiosity? No. He doesn’t deserve my time for what he did to my mother. If it weren’t for him, she would’ve never given me up. Then again, I wouldn’t have known the man who raised me, and my little brother. Cole always says there are no coincidences. Shit happens for a reason. Everything in my life brought me to him, and I’m not about to start questioning that.
The past is the past. It’s time for me to live and love.
???
The elevator door dings. My heart does somersaults. I wonder if this feeling will ever go away. The anticipation and giddiness I experience whenever I’m about to see Cole.
It’s like being on an amusement park ride. I love it!
“Hello!” I walk through his flat.
“Hey.” He strolls out of the bathroom shirtless, looking as yummy as ever.
I rush to him for a kiss like a kid with her ticket for the next roller-coaster ride. When the ride ends, my body tingles all over. Oh, what the man’s kiss does to me!
“Come.” He motions with his head, grabbing my hand. “I got you a gift.” He enters his bedroom and picks up a bag from his dresser.
He holds it out to me.
I look at it.
“Don’t worry,” he says with an adorable lopsided grin. “I washed my hands when I was done in the bathroom.”
I laugh.
“Take it.” He shakes the bag.
“What is it?” Not used to getting gifts, not anymore, I remain immobilized.
“Come, look inside.” He shakes the bag again.
“Okay.” I grab it. I yank the tissues out and stick my hand inside. It’s soft. I pull it out. “A shirt?” I hold it up. “A very large shirt!”
