Because this is the career I chose, and I care about doing it well—about not cutting corners just because my life has gotten complicated. And also, because the faster I get answers, the faster I can put this to bed and stop dragging it around with me.
I need my head clear for what actually matters right now. I only have twenty weeks left of this pregnancy, and I don’t want to spend them half-present, distracted by a case that should already be moving toward resolution. I want to earn the space to enjoy being pregnant, without work bleeding into every quiet moment.
I need to head to Mount Hamilton. Track down the Tarmigans. I’ll need to book the dreaded meeting with Zoe Marshall’s parents—to confirm anything Andy says about how he and Zoe knew each other, to hear their version, to dredge up the details that might not have made it into the manila folder.
And threaded through all of that, I’m supposed to show up for a twenty-week scan and a visit from my mother and grandma.
When it rains, it pours.
The walk back is a haze until Anton brushes my shoulder as he leans in to unlock the door.
It’s barely a touch, but my body fizzles instantly. His size. His warmth. The memory of being held down by all that strength—of him inside me—still humming under my skin.
I straighten and force the feeling back where it belongs.
There will be time for us. Time to talk about whateverthe hell happened tonight, and what we’re doing about it going forward.
Right now, my mind isn’t in a place to make decisions I can’t take back. If I sayfriendsagain after tonight, that’s a second line in the sand—and Anton is a man who believes in certainty. This time, he’d know I meant it. And if I ask for more…there’s no walking that back either.
Anton catches my gaze and offers me a soft smile as the door swings open, and my chest tightens again.
If I ask for him, I’ll need to give him everything I’ve got. He deserves that from me.
For now, I find what peace I can in knowing that whatever comes next—baby, Mom, Andy, the Marshalls—I’m not facing it alone.
I know this man can handle the truth, as long as we’re honest with each other.
I just need to keep my heart out the way long enough to do my job.
23
I wake in the morning,but I don’t want to get out of bed.
There’s no denying the workload and baby combined are taking it out of me. I’m an industrious person, never have had a problem working overtime, but right now, I have to admit, I could use a day in bed.
Anton is already awake, and I have a feeling this might be a feature of our life together. I know he doesn’t need much sleep and he told me he wakes up naturally at five. Sometimes before.
By the time I’m dressed, the scent of strong coffee is already drifting upfrom the kitchen.
I look in my full-length bedroom mirror, and for a moment, I feel insanely unsexy.
It’s official. I’ve outgrown regular clothes, even oversized ones.
I had to swap out of a larger-sized man’s shirt for an actual pregnancy uniform shirt. I can’t tuck it in because it’s designed to hang down to about mid-booty. Granted, it’s not a bad fit, not a tent or anything, but I’ve always felt like my butt is my best feature; this shirt does not agree.
So this shirt, perfectly fine in theory, is doing unexpected things to my curves, and I’m still deciding how I feel about that.
Why do I care what I look like at work?
Because today, my ride-along buddy is Adonis himself.
I’m heading out to Mount Hamilton, and when Anton offered to drive us in his truck, I took him up on it. I’m a relatively energetic person, but last night, pulling a late one and after all the emotion, sex and tension, I’m whacked today. It’s only about an hour to the Tarmigans’ house—Andy lives with his parents—but not having to focus on the road and driving will give me a break.
I swipe on some natural mocha lipstick. Not for work. For morale.
Will the Tarmigans take a pregnant cop seriously?
And then, I think of my mom’s tailored suits and her red lips. For a minute, I wonder if my mom puts on lipstick at work for herself or for everyone else?
