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“I found out at work that morning. The morning I was taken.”
His eyes narrow and his hands go still.
“I was on my way home to tell you.” I have to take a drink of wine to calm myself down. “I knew I was pregnant when I was there, at that fucking house. There was a girl there, Rose, and she helped me escape.”
He frowns down at his plate and then looks up at me. “Rose is the reason I found you.”
I gasp. “What?”
“She’s Violet’s sister. Mateo’s sister-in-law. We just found her, rescued her from Damien about two months ago.”
Tears fill my eyes. “She was with him all this time? Oh my God.”
“She’s safe now. She’s with her sister, and we’re all taking care of her. The girls in our family are protective as fuck, and I know they’re anxious to meet you.”
Guilt niggles its way between my shoulder blades.
“Anyway, she’d heard that I’d had a wife who was taken by Damien and killed, and when I told her your name, she dropped the bomb of a lifetime on me.”
“Holy shit,” I whisper. “I’m so glad she’s safe. When I escaped, I hitchhiked to LA. Stayed in a shelter there for a little while to make sure no one followed me. Then for a few months, I got odd jobs to pay my way north, and I eventually settled here in Portland. I forged documents so I could work as a nurse, and by the time I had Charlie, I had a little apartment and a good job. My pregnancy was relatively easy, thank goodness. I wasn’t sick much, and he came just a little early.”
He reaches over and takes my hand, giving it a squeeze.
“He was a good sleeper as a baby. He still is. He’s a picky eater. Don’t even think about going near that kid with a green vegetable. I have to sneak them into things, like lasagna. He loves Iron Man and dogs and airplanes. He’s a happy, well-adjusted kid.”
“Thanks to you.” Carson’s voice is rough.
“And Mildred. She is a huge help to me. She’s really my only friend and the one person I’ve been able to confide in. She doesn’t know everything that happened, but she knows enough. That woman is the mom I never had.”
He nods slowly and pulls my hand up to his lips so he can kiss it. “I’m so fucking glad you’re both okay.”
“We’re fine. Being a single mom isn’t easy. I’m always tired. I always worry that I’m not doing enough, or that he’ll resent that I have to be gone every other Saturday so I can work. I’m sure that’s normal. But we’ve been good.”
“You never have to work again,” he reminds me. “And I know that kid idolizes you. He talks about you constantly.”
Well, that makes me feel good.
When dinner is finished, our wineglasses empty, we head for home.
Being with Carson is as easy as it ever was before. He touches me, smiles at me.
Flirts with me.
And damn it, it’s almost as if no time has passed at all, let alone seven years of trauma and torture. I honestly think he had it far worse than me, spending five years in prison.
I can’t even wrap my head around that.
When we get to the house, he walks me to the front door, but when I would unlock it and push inside, he tugs my arm, pulling me back to him.
“This is a real date,” he reminds me as his eyes fall to my mouth, and I know without a doubt that now he’s going to kiss me.
I offer him my mouth willingly, and he leans down to close the gap between us. And just like before, he doesn’t simply kiss me.
He frames my jaw and neck in his big hands, and when his mouth covers my own, he sinks into me, making me moan, and my hands come up to his wrists, hanging on tight as every nerve ending tingles.
Carson’s lips part mine, and the taste of him is like coming home. It’s as familiar as breathing, and I know without a doubt that I can’t go without him again. Not to mention, I want to climb him like a fucking tree.
But then I remember that my body has changed. His has only gotten better—something I would have sworn was impossible—and mine?
