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Before I can ask what she means, she’s turned back to the journalists.
"I became pregnant when I was sixteen and lost my son when I was nineteen."
Zara
"You didn’t trust me enough to tell me about this before you broke it to the media?" Hunter glares at me from across his office.
After I’d ripped open my past and shared it with the press, we were bombarded by questions. Hunter, however, shouldered his way through the throng with me in tow. His security pulled up in a car, and we made a speedy getaway. All through the trip, we neither looked nor spoke to each other. Our phones vibrating off the hook, but by mutual, unspoken consent, neither of us checked our devices. He also did not let go of my hand.
We drew up to his office, and he led me through a path between desks occupied by his team. Most of them were hard at work, regardless of the fact that it was a weekend. That’s the nature of an election campaign. There are no ‘off’ days, not until the poll results are declared—and not even after that, when the real work begins. Most of them, however, fell silent in our wake. No doubt, seeing their leader pull me along with his fingers threaded through mine was enough to make them realize things had changed.
He barked at his assistant to not let anyone in, then he ushered me inside his office, shut the door, and locked it for good measure. Only then, did he let go of my hand. I avoided his table and the chairs around it and walked over to the sofa pushed up against the wall. I sank into it, placed my bag on the seat next to me, and folded my hands in my lap. Now, I watch as he paces back-forth-back on the carpet.
"I thought you already knew," I finally offer.
He turns on me. "Is that the best you can do?"
"It’s a reasonable assumption. You had me investigated. You know everything about me, right down to my hot beverage of choice. Of course, I assumed you knew about my past."
“Apparently, my investigators failed to discover the sibling who died was not your sibling but your son.”
I wince, then squeezes my eyes shut. “I suppose I should be grateful that the people I hired to wipe out that particular detail of my past came through.” I rub my chest. “My son. I gave birth to him, then watched as he was buried. Then wiped out his connection to me. I am a terrible mother.”
“You’re not, Zara. You are the strongest, bravest person I have ever met.”
Heat flushes my cheeks. I lower my hands to my sides then tip up my chin. “You forgot to say I’m a fixer; it’s what I do best. What better use of my talent than to fix my past. I covered up the fact that Olly was my child like it was a dirty secret.” My heart squeezes in my chest. My guts churn. “I am a terrible person. I wiped out all existence of my own son. What mother does that?”
“You did what you thought was right. You did what it took to survive. You loved your son. It’s evident in how you talk about him. You tried your best to take care of him. You’re not to blame for what happened to him.”
I chuckle. “Don’t go making me out to be something I’m not. Have you forgotten that I didn’t tell you about Olly? That I broke the news of him to the press without doing you the courtesy of telling you first?”
“Olly was your secret to tell, when you thought it was the right time. And you did it before you lost your nerve.” His gaze softens.
There’s so much understanding on his face. So much love. So much everything. The pressure behind my eyes builds. My heart feels like it’s going to burst. "I... I could have told you first, when we were on our own.” I choke out, “I’m a bad person. You deserve better, Hunter.”
He leans forward on the balls of his feet. His blue-green eyes turn that stormy shade of green I now know means he’s pissed off. And he has reason to be. If I were in his shoes, I’d break off all relations with me right now. I tip up my chin, and the groove between his eyebrows deepens.
He finally says, "I know what you’re doing here."
"Oh?"
He nods. "You think because you sprang that surprise on me, and in front of the media, I’m going to call off our relationship. But you’re wrong."
I blink. "I… I am?"
He walks over, then squats down in front of me. "You forget how tenacious I am, Fire. I didn’t come this far, only to walk away from you over something that happened in your past."
I jut out my chin. "I kept a lot of things from you, Hunter. I didn’t tell you I had a child, that I was a teenage mother of a special needs boy who died because I couldn’t care for him."
"You did your best."
A tear squeezes out from the corner of my eye. "You have no idea what I did or didn’t do."
He leans forward and scoops up the trail of moisture from my cheek. "In all the time I’ve known you, you’ve never—not once—shirked your responsibilities." He brings his moist finger to his lips and sucks on his digit, and my heart feels like it’s going to burst.
"You take time out to volunteer with children." He holds my gaze.
"It’s nothing."
