To her.
“Tomorrow,” I whispered into the quiet room, the words both promise and prayer. “I’ll ring her tomorrow.”
I finished my Scotch, rinsed the glass, and headed upstairs to check on the bairns one last time before bed. They were all sleeping soundly—even Alec, his face peaceful in sleep in a way it never was during waking hours.
I stood in the hallway between their rooms, listening to the quiet sounds of their breathing, and wondered if I’d just made the best decision of my life or the worst mistake I’d ever committed.
Only time would tell.
But tomorrow, I would ring Theresa Carideo.
And whatever came next... we’d face it when it arrived.
Chapter
Nine
THERESA
I feltthe first tear as I stopped at the red light, my grip too tight on the steering wheel. I’d been holding it together all day—through the meeting with R&D where half the key personnel were mysteriously “called away” for other priorities, through Lisa’s increasingly grim updates, through Arthur’s smug little smiles in the hallway.
But it was Paris who had broken me this morning.
“Mommy, is Aunt Shelly our new mommy now? Because she picks us up from school and makes our lunches and you don’t anymore.”
My five-year-old daughter had delivered this observation over breakfast with the same matter-of-fact tone she used to announce that Cheerios got soggy too fast or that Austin had a booger hanging from his nose. No accusation, no sadness—just brutal, unfiltered truth in the way only Paris could deliver it.
I’d frozen with my coffee mug halfway to my lips, acutely aware of Michael and Shelly exchanging a look across the kitchen.
“No, baby,” I’d finally managed. “I’m still your mommy.”
Paris had nodded, considering this. “But you’re never here.”
The light turned green, but I couldn’t see the road clearly anymore. I pulled into the empty parking lot of a strip mall and let the tears come. Just for a minute. Just one minute of weakness before I had to go back to being the person everyone needed me to be.
Paris was right. I hadn’t been there. Between the crushing grief of losing Marco and the all-consuming fight to save our company, I’d been barely functioning as a human, let alone as a mother. Again, Michael and Shelly had stepped in to fill the gaps—picking the kids up from school, helping with homework, making sure they had clean clothes and hot meals. Keeping them afloat while I fought the war Marco had unwittingly left me to fight alone.
And God, I was so grateful to them, but hearing it laid out like that from Paris?—
The car phone’s shrill ring cut through my tears. I nearly jumped out of my skin. The bulky Motorola mounted to the console—Marco’s insistence after that time I’d gotten a flat on 680—displayed Lisa’s office extension on the tiny green screen.
I grabbed the receiver, my voice thick. “Lisa?”
“Theresa, I have Patrick McCrae on the line for you. He said it’s about a potential partnership. Should I take a message?”
My hand tightened on the receiver so hard my knuckles went white. Patrick. The man from the conference. The one whose blue eyes had seen right through my armor.
“No,” I heard myself say, a strange flutter in my chest warring with the grief. “Put him through.”
A click, then silence. A beat of static.
“Theresa?” His voice was deeper than I remembered, the Scottish burr wrapping around my name like a warm coat. “It’s Patrick McCrae. We met at the BioInnovate Conference.”
I straightened in my seat, wiping my eyes furiously. “Patrick,” I said, my voice still betraying me, rough and uneven. “Hi. I—” I broke off, mortified.
“I’m sorry,” he said immediately, his tone shifting from professional to intimate in a heartbeat. “Is this a bad time? I can call back?—”
“No,” I said, too quickly. “No, it’s fine. I just—” I took a shaky breath, trying to steady myself. “It’s been a day.”
