Home is where her heart is…

The oldest of three adopted daughters, Callie Hart has always loved being the protector of the family. But now she is all grown up—with a young son of her own to protect. Callie can’t wait to show him off when she reunites with her two sisters in Ohio. But that also means coming face-to-face with the lover she left behind. Nigel Williams is even more irresistibly attractive than ever. But what will he do when he learns about the secret she kept hidden from him for ten years?

Nigel has never forgiven Callie for fleeing Ohio—and the passion they shared. And when she shows up on his doorstep asking for forgiveness, the Cleveland cop is furious at her deception. But how can he deny the feelings Callie reawakens in him? Blindsided once again by the heat of desire, Nigel vows to fight for his future with the woman he has always loved.

Nigel stared up at her, his lips pulled in a tight line. He looked angry.

So Callie couldn’t have been more startled when he suddenly got to his feet, stepped in front of her and slipped his fingers into her hair. “Do you know how many days I wondered if you would come back to me?” he asked, his hot breath fanning her face. “Do you know how many times I wished you hadn’t walked out on me?”

Callie couldn’t speak. All she could register was the furious pounding of her heart as she wondered if Nigel was going to kiss her.

Did she want that?

The fact that her body felt more alive than ever made it clear that she did want it.

“I wanted to do this so many times,” he said, trailing one finger down her cheek, creating a path of fire. “But you never gave me the chance. Because you never came back.”

Callie couldn’t speak. Suddenly, desire was pulsing through her veins.

Nigel’s mouth came down on hers, hard. Her body erupted in an immediate firestorm of passion. He kissed her with an urgent need that matched all the raging sensations inside of her. Kissing Nigel, it was as though no time had passed at all.

KAYLA PERRIN

has been writing since the age of thirteen and once entertained the idea of becoming a teacher. Instead, she has become a USA TODAY and Essence bestselling author of dozens of mainstream and romance novels, and has been recognized for her talent, including twice winning Romance Writers of America’s Top Ten Favorite Books of the Year Award. She has also won the Career Achievement Award for multicultural romance from RT Book Reviews. Kayla lives with her daughter in Ontario, Canada. Visit Kayla at www.kaylaperrin.com.

Always
in My Heart
Kayla Perrin

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dear Reader,

Blood is thicker than water—isn’t it? Then why are familial relationships often so complicated? Especially the sibling relationship?

Rivalries that begin in childhood, failed expectations…these are just a couple of the issues that brothers and sisters deal with. And when the siblings are of the same gender, the conflicts are even greater. I think we can all relate!

The subject matter is fascinating, and it’s why I decided to write about the Hart sisters. Callie, Natalie and Deanna haven’t had the easiest relationship. Estranged for years, they are brought back together when their aunt dies—the woman who raised them. Suddenly they realize that, no matter what happens, the ties that bind are greater than the ones that pull us apart. Especially when they learn there is more to their mother’s disappearance than they ever imagined.

I’m thrilled to present the Harts in Love series to you! Enjoy!

For my father,

Lenworth Hugh Perrin.

A true man of honor and integrity.

One who was always there for his children,

and always there for his wife.

A man who taught me that through hard work

I could accomplish anything.

I never expected to lose you so soon,

and I hope that you know

of all the fathers in the world,

I’m glad God blessed me with you.

I love you, Dad.

You are always in my heart.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 1

Callie Hart was numb.

As the airport limousine came to a stop, all she registered was the ominously dark sky and the large, steady drops of rain that had been falling since she had arrived at Cleveland Hopkins International Airport. The rain mirrored the tears that had been falling from her eyes ever since she had heard the news.

Her aunt was dead.

The tragic news had been hard for her to bear. Auntie Jean had been more than simply an aunt to her. She had been a mother. Ever since the day twenty-three years ago when her own mother had dropped off her and her two sisters at their aunt’s place and promised to be back, Auntie Jean had become their true mother.

“Mom, I think we’re here.”

At the sound of the voice, Callie glanced to her right. Kwame, her nine-year-old son, was looking at her with concern. His eyes were dry. He hadn’t known his great-aunt well though he’d seen her a handful of times. Therefore he didn’t have the chance to feel an emotional attachment to the truly amazing woman Callie had known and loved.

Callie offered Kwame a brave smile, noting that the driver had already exited the car and had the trunk open. After booking their flight, Callie’s next call had been to arrange for a private car service. The last thing she wanted was to get to the airport and have to wait on a regular taxi in her distressed state of mind.

Now, Callie looked out at the church her aunt had attended for eons. Once, Callie had imagined being married in this church. Instead, she was here to say goodbye to someone she loved.

Ten years. In ten long years, she hadn’t been back to Cleveland, for which she suddenly felt enormous guilt.

At the time, she had left for a reason that had seemed legitimate, and had stayed away all these years for the same reason. Now, in the wake of what had happened to her aunt—as well as her own brush with death days earlier—her reason suddenly seemed unsubstantial. She had lost years with her family. Time she was all too aware she would never get back.

“Mom, is that a hearse?”

At the question, Callie’s eyes went forward. Indeed, the limo had parked behind the hearse.

Callie swallowed hard, the sight making it clear that she wasn’t in the middle of a nightmare.

Callie was about to reach for the door handle with her good hand when it suddenly opened. “Ma’am,” the driver said. He held an enormous black umbrella over the door to shield them from the rain.

As Callie stepped out of the car, she saw her luggage on the sidewalk. It suddenly hit her that she couldn’t head into the church with her suitcases. She would need them taken to the house.

“Norman, right?” Callie said.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Is there any possible way you can wait for me?” Callie asked him. “I didn’t think of it until now, but we’re here for a funeral, and…if you can stick around, I’ll make it worth your while.” Pausing, Callie considered how much he was charging for the trip from the airport. “If you’re willing to be my driver for the next few hours or so, I’ll offer you five times what I’m already paying you.”

The man’s blue eyes widened, indicating his surprised pleasure, before he resumed his business composure. “I’m happy to accept your offer. I’m yours for as long as you need me.”

“Excellent. If you wouldn’t mind putting the luggage back into the trunk, that would be great.”

“Of course. Just let me get you both into the church.”

Norman walked with Callie and Kwame to the church’s doors, making sure they got inside without getting soaked. It was late May, and the spring shower was in full force.

“Thank you, Norman,” Callie said.

Norman, in his mid-fifties with salt-and-pepper hair, nodded. Then he said, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

The words made Callie’s breath catch in her chest. It hit her once more that she would never see Auntie Jean again.

As though Kwame sensed that she needed strength, he took her hand. Callie gripped it and ascended the few steps that led toward the sanctuary. She couldn’t help thinking that Kwame was turning from a boy into a young man. And she couldn’t have been prouder of him. He was mostly respectful, though he wasn’t perfect. He’d had a rebellious spell just last year, which Callie attributed to her breakup with Philip, her last boyfriend. He’d been a father figure to Kwame, and her son had been crushed to lose him.

Kwame had blossomed with Philip around, and Callie then realized what her son needed all along.

The very thought had Callie’s heart constricting. She had thought of pretty much nothing else ever since being admitted to the hospital after her car crash, and the news of her aunt’s death two days later had only made her thoughts more serious.

She had come back to Cleveland after ten years for her aunt, but also for another reason. To rectify a wrong.

“How does your arm feel?” Kwame asked.

“It’s okay,” Callie said. The pain in her shoulder was nothing compared to the pain in her heart.

As she and Kwame reached the top step, two older men who were standing there handed her a funeral program. Callie took it, saw the smiling picture of her aunt on the cover, and fresh tears filled her eyes.

And then she walked down the aisle of the church. The coffin was at the front, and open. She suddenly wondered if she should let Kwame see Auntie Jean like that, or if she should spare him the experience. But sadly, death was a part of life, and she knew she couldn’t shield her son from that reality forever.

A head in the front pew turned. And then Callie was staring into the eyes of her sister, Deanna. Callie wasn’t sure how either of her sisters would react to her after all these years, but Deanna immediately got to her feet and started down the aisle toward her. As if no time had passed, she moved toward her with open arms and wrapped her in an embrace.

“Callie,” she said, a little sob escaping her. “It’s so good to see you.”

Callie drew strength from Deanna’s hug. “It’s good to see you, too.”

Funny how it sometimes took death to bring people together. Because while Callie hadn’t had a particular beef with either of her sisters, being forced into the middle of an ugly conflict between Deanna and Natalie had led to her being estranged from both of them.

Deanna turned her attention to Kwame. “And you must be Kwame. I’m your aunt. Aunt Deanna.”

“Hi,” Kwame said, his voice faint. He was normally an outgoing kid, but he was always shy when meeting people for the first time.

“You’re very handsome,” Deanna said, offering him a smile.

“Thanks.” He paused, then said, “I’ve seen you on TV. My mother showed me one of your music videos.”

“She did, did she?”

Kwame nodded. “It was a couple years ago. When I was seven. I like your music.”

“Well, that’s good to hear.” Deanna ran her hand over his head affectionately.

“Is Natalie here?” Callie asked, knowing this was a touchy subject.

“Yeah. Like you, she couldn’t make it before today. She just arrived a little while ago. We’ve said hi, but not much else.”

Callie nodded. “Where is she?”

“Downstairs in the bathroom. She was…” Deanna paused, swallowed. “A wreck.”

“Yeah,” Callie said softly, knowing the feeling. Deanna’s own eyes were red and puffy, indicating that she had cried a lot of tears. But it was clear she was trying to keep it together now.

Callie took a good, long look at Deanna. Her sister had definitely changed in ten years. Her face was still slim, but her body had filled out, turning her from a skinny teen into a woman. Ten years ago, Deanna had liked wearing her hair shoulder length, but now it was cut into a short style and combed back from her face, letting her beauty show.

“Uncle Dave said you’d been in a car crash.” Deanna’s eyes swept over her, assessing her injuries. “But he said you told him it wasn’t serious. Yet you’re wearing a sling, and you’ve got a big bandage on your head. It looks like you were pretty hurt.”

“I’ll be fine,” Callie said.

Deanna looked at Kwame. “But he was unhurt?”

“Thank God.”

Deanna sighed softly. “Yes, thank God. I’m so glad you’re both here.”

As silence passed between them, Callie knew that Deanna was thinking the accident could have been much worse. That it could have taken both her and Kwame’s lives.

“Why don’t you come with me for a minute?” Deanna said, wrapping an arm around Kwame’s shoulders. “I’ll introduce you to some other family members.”

“Okay.”

As Deanna began to walk with Kwame, she gave Callie a look, then jerked her head ever-so-slightly toward the front of the church. She was letting her know that this was a good time to go and pay her final respects to their aunt.

Callie moved forward, her legs feeling like lead as she made her way to the polished mahogany casket. Floral arrangements filled the front of the church. Callie saw the wreath she was certain she had ordered, the one that read “Beloved Mother” and was brightly colored, made up of pink, orange, yellow and lime-colored flowers.

Also at the front of the church were pictures of Auntie Jean in happier times. She had been so full of life, it seemed impossible that her life had been cut down at fifty-seven from a brain aneurysm.

Callie stepped up to the coffin and looked down at her aunt. Tears began to fall again. She was comforted only by the fact that Auntie Jean looked peaceful.

When she felt the arms encircle her waist, Callie looked to her right. Kwame was there at her side, being there for her once more, offering her his strength.

“This is your great-aunt, honey,” Callie said. “You met her a few times when she came to Florida to see us, but the last time was three years ago.” Way too long.

“She was beautiful,” Kwame said.

“Yes, she was,” Callie said, and leaned her head down to touch Kwame’s, as her shoulder injury prevented her from hugging him properly.

“Callie?”

At the sound of the tentative female voice behind her, Callie turned. Her youngest sister, Natalie, stood a few feet away. A sob escaping her lips, Natalie moved forward, and the two sisters embraced.

“I can’t believe it’s you,” Natalie said. “It’s been so long.”

“I know. I just wish it wasn’t under these circumstances that we are seeing each other.”

Natalie nodded. She shot a brief glance over her shoulder in Deanna’s direction, and Callie couldn’t help wondering if her two sisters were going to continue their feuding.

“And what happened to you? I hear—and see—that you were in a car accident.”

“I’ll tell you all about it later,” Callie said. She glanced beyond Natalie to where her uncle was sitting on a pew, looking grief stricken. “But I’ve got to say hi to Uncle Dave, and the rest of the family.”

“Yes, of course.”

Uncle Dave stood as she approached him. He seemed frail, weak with sorrow. He had married their aunt two years after they’d gone to live with her, and he’d been the only father they’d ever known.

“Uncle Dave,” Callie said, wrapping her good arm around him. She felt his frame shudder with a sob.

“Thank you for coming,” he said.

“Of course I would come,” Callie said, again feeling guilt.

Because there was no of course about it, at least not where Uncle Dave was concerned. How could he have been certain that she would come when she had so effortlessly put Cleveland in her rearview mirror? Yes, she’d been in touch with Auntie Jean and Uncle Dave, but less and less over the years, and she had seen them only when they’d come to Florida to visit.

“I’m sorry,” Callie whispered. It was all she could say. Because no excuse she gave to justify her absence all these years was going to be substantial enough.

But she was here now, ready to start fresh.

* * *

The funeral service was extremely moving, resulting in tears flowing from everyone’s eyes. Uncle Dave, whom Callie had only known to be strong, was inconsolable as the pallbearers took his wife’s coffin from the church.

The rain continued to fall, making the cemetery burial a soggy mess, but no one was concerned about the discomfort. All they wished was that Jean Henry could be back with them.

Callie had heard that rain was a blessing, and she only hoped that the spring downpour was a sign that Auntie Jean had ascended to heaven to be with her maker.

All Callie really wanted to do after the graveside service was head back to her old home and sleep for a few hours, but Uncle Dave’s brothers and sisters were hosting a repast for all the mourners at the house. Callie had no choice but to participate.

The extended family and friends had made all kinds of food and desserts, and after a few hours of solemn mourning, many people were now smiling and laughing as they remembered Auntie Jean. Callie knew her aunt would want it this way, but she wasn’t yet ready to smile.

“Do you want something to drink, Mom?” Kwame asked.

Callie was sitting on a love seat in the living room with her son, still feeling numb despite the chatter and activity around her. She wasn’t hungry at all, and had already refused his offer to get her food. She was about to tell him that she didn’t need anything to drink, but thought better of it. Her son was trying to take care of her, something she appreciated.

“You know what? I wouldn’t mind some tea.”

Kwame gave her a smile, and got up from the love seat. About ten seconds after he went into the kitchen, Deanna came into the living room and took the vacant seat beside her.

For a long moment, they were silent. Then Deanna sighed and said, “You know what I was kind of thinking today? Hoping…”

She didn’t finish her statement, but the lump that lodged in Callie’s throat said she knew what she’d been about to say. And while she had wanted to keep her mind from going there, she’d also had the same fleeting thought.

“Our mother,” Callie concluded. “You thought she might show up.”

“Auntie Jean is her sister, after all.”

Callie looked forward, her jaw tightening. She hated thinking about their mother. It always brought her down. Twenty-three years ago, she had waited by the window in this very house, day and night, for their mother to return, as she’d promised.

She never had.

“Maybe she couldn’t come,” Callie said. “I mean, maybe…”

Deanna’s eyes closed tightly, even though Callie didn’t finish her statement. But with all this time that had passed, how could either of them ignore the possibility that their mother could be dead?

Certainly, for their aunt to have died, Miriam Hart would have made it to the funeral if she could have.

So many questions where their mother was concerned, yet no answers.

Callie didn’t want to think about their mother anymore, so she said, “I know it’s been a busy day, and you and Natalie haven’t really had a chance to talk. But I’m wondering…do you think you’re going to patch things up?”

“Ten years have passed,” Deanna said.

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

“I know… What I’m saying is, ten years have passed. I’m willing to put the past in the past.”

Callie raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that?”

Deanna sighed softly. “I’m not saying it’s going to be easy, but if Auntie Jean’s passing hasn’t made it clear that holding grudges is pointless…”

There had been a lot going on today, but Callie had noticed that Natalie was making sure to avoid Deanna. The funeral and the aftermath was allowing both of them to be busy and completely avoid each other.

“You’re going to have to try to talk to her soon then,” Callie said. “Because she might be getting on a plane and heading back to Texas before we know it. Isn’t her husband’s team in the NBA finals? She’ll want to be there to support him.”

“You haven’t heard?” Deanna asked.

“Heard what?”

“Natalie and Vance split up. At least, that’s the gossip. You never know if it’s true or not, but I did notice she wasn’t wearing a wedding band.”

Callie narrowed her eyes. She hadn’t noticed. All she knew—from her aunt and uncle and from various news clips about four years earlier—was that Natalie had married a basketball star who played for the San Antonio Badgers. She didn’t keep up with celebrity gossip, and hadn’t heard anything about a split.

“I had no clue,” Callie said.

“The word is, Vance couldn’t be faithful. The latest news is that they just split a few weeks ago.”

Perhaps that explained why Natalie seemed completely inconsolable. She had been crying almost constantly, and had excused herself to head upstairs and lie down once they’d gotten back to the house.

“Wow, that’s horrible,” Callie commented.

“Yeah,” Deanna said softly. She paused. “When I first heard, I couldn’t help thinking that she got what she deserved. After what she did to me… But seeing her today, seeing how much pain she’s in…well, all I could do was feel pity.”

“All the more reason to let her know that you’re willing to put the past behind you,” Callie pointed out. “Men may come into our lives for a season, but we’re blood. We never should have drifted apart.”

“I hear you,” Deanna said.

One of them would have to make the first move. If she had to, Callie would do it on their behalf, once all the visitors had left the house.

In the grand scheme of things, how stupid had the whole incident been. Ten years they had been out of each other’s lives, and for what? Natalie had seduced Deanna’s boyfriend, which had been a horrible thing to do, and the rift between Natalie and Deanna had begun.

Callie remembered getting into the middle of the conflict, trying to help both of her sisters see the light. But they’d been so absorbed in their own differences and unable to reconcile, and had gotten mad at Callie for not understanding that the other sister was at fault.

Having had a close friend who had died after a severe police beating at the time, Callie grew tired of her younger sisters’ squabble. There were far more important things to deal with in the world.

Like the fact that she’d been pregnant and confused, and had felt alone.

“Speaking of men coming into our lives for a season,” Deanna began, “guess who dropped by the funeral home last night?”

“I don’t know,” Callie said, shrugging. Then she guessed the name of the guy Deanna and Natalie had become estranged over. “Marvin?”

“No, not Marvin, thank God. Nigel.”

Nigel! At the sound of his name, Callie’s heart slammed against her rib cage. Nigel had come to pay his respects to Auntie Jean?

Why was she surprised? Auntie Jean had adored him when they were together, and he her. One of the reasons Callie had stayed away and not told her family the entire truth was because she couldn’t trust that they wouldn’t let her secret slip to Nigel.

“He—he did?” Callie asked, her voice a croak.

“Mmm-hmm.”

Good Lord, was he going to drop by the house today? Callie suddenly looked toward the front door, as if he might show up at any moment.

“Did you—you talk to him?” Callie asked, then swallowed.

“Briefly. He said he came in to pay respects to Uncle Dave and the family. He offered us condolences, said how sorry he was for our loss, then he left.”

Did he ask about me? That was the next question on Callie’s lips, but somehow she stopped herself from asking it. As if she even had the right to think that after what she’d done.

Her stomach clenched, knowing that what she had planned to do was going to be excruciatingly hard. But it had to be done. As difficult as it would be to face Nigel, she knew that she had to.

She only hoped that when she dropped her doozy of a bombshell on him, he didn’t hate her forever.

Chapter 2

“Detective Williams?”

Nigel Williams sat up straight when he heard the soft voice on the other end of the line. Was this the call he had been waiting for?

“Yes,” he said. “This is Detective Williams.”

“I hear you wanted to talk to me.”

“Dominiqua?”

“Yes,” came the low reply.

The murder victim’s girlfriend. Thank God. “You were there last night? When Garrett was shot?”

“Yes.” The girl began to cry.

“I need you to come in to the station,” Nigel said. “So we can talk about what happened.”

“I—I’m scared. If I talk to you, people will find out. And…”

Her voice trailed off, but her sentiment was clear. She was afraid to talk, because of the code on the streets—never snitch.

It was an all-too-common conundrum. People were afraid to come forth with information for fear of retaliation against them. But the catch-22 was that when people didn’t come forward to report the bad guys, the bad guys were still on the streets to hurt other people.

“I can come to you,” Nigel offered. “Just tell me—”

“No! No cops. I can’t be seen talking to a cop—”

“If you saw what happened, if you have information, it’s important that you tell me,” Nigel said, speaking as gently as possible. “We can figure out a spot to meet that will be safe for you.”

“I’m sorry,” Dominiqua said. “I—I can’t.”

And then she hung up.

Nigel heard the dial tone, and groaned in frustration as he replaced the phone to the cradle. Damn, he’d wanted Dominiqua to give him a name. At least, however, he had been given a lead. Dominiqua did know something. It might take time, but he was certain she would eventually come clean and let him know who had shot down her boyfriend in cold blood.

Nigel shook his head as he thought of last night’s murder of a young male. Twenty years old, gunned down in the street. The distraught mother being held up by family members at the crime scene, where her son lay bleeding from a gunshot wound.

Murder on the streets of Cleveland and another young life lost in a senseless manner. When would people stop taking the drastic action of murder as a way to solve their disputes?

Not any time soon, Nigel knew. Ever since his move to the homicide department within the Cleveland police three years earlier, his caseload had always been full.

Marshall Jennings, his best friend of twelve years and partner on the police force, had gone out to speak to the boy’s mother once their evening shift had started, while Nigel had stayed in the office looking up information on the victim, that could possibly link to any suspects.

“Hey, Williams.”

Nigel, who had been staring at the computer screen, looked to his right. Marshall was heading toward him, his blazer wet. Clearly, he had been caught in the torrential downpour. It was the end of May, and the showers had been intense lately. Mostly because even though it wasn’t yet summer, the weather was extremely hot.

The good thing was that if the rain kept up this evening, it wasn’t likely anyone would be gunned down on the streets.

“How did it go with the mother and the family?” Nigel asked.

“They’re devastated, understandably,” Marshall said, shrugging out of his jacket. “They saw Garrett at least two hours before he was shot but don’t seem to know anything useful.” Marshall hung his blazer on the back of his swivel chair. “They gave me some names of people who might have had a beef with him. Some leads to follow.”

“Well, I heard from Dominiqua, the victim’s girlfriend,” Nigel told him. “Those early leads were right—she did see the shooting.”

Marshall’s eyebrows rose as he took the seat at the desk beside Nigel. “All right. She name the shooter?”

Nigel shook his head. “I tried to get her to come talk to me, or to tell me something over the phone, but she hung up before she did. She’s too scared to talk.”

Marshall nodded his understanding. “She’ll probably come around.”

“I hope so. If she loved the guy, I’m thinking she’s going to want to see the shooter brought to justice.”

“No doubt,” Marshall agreed. Leaning forward, he typed something on his computer screen. Then he said, “Guess who I saw today?”

“Who?”

“Callie.”

Callie Hart…Nigel felt as though someone had just punched him in the gut with a sledgehammer. “You did?”

“Yep. I dropped by the church earlier to pay my respects on my way to the dentist. As I was leaving, I saw her getting out of an airport limo.”

Nigel turned his attention to the pile of papers on his desk. He needed something to do, a distraction. “So you didn’t talk to her?”

“Nope. But get this—she’s got a child.”

At the news, Nigel whipped his head in his friend’s direction. “What?”

“A young boy was getting out of the car with her. Maybe eight. It must be her kid.”

Nigel felt a tightening in his chest. Callie had a child? “Was she with someone?” he found himself asking. “A husband?”

Marshall’s eyebrows rose at the question. “Still carrying a torch for her, hmm? Even after how she left you?”

“Just curious,” Nigel responded. “She’s got a kid, she likely has a husband.”

“I didn’t see her with anyone. It was just her and the kid. But that doesn’t mean she’s not married. Her husband could have stayed home while she came here for the funeral.”

Nigel nodded. He hated that he felt even mildly curious to know what she was doing in her life. Once she had walked away from him, he had vowed to forget her forever.

Obviously, she had forgotten him. If it was true that she had a son around the age of eight, then she had clearly moved on from him fairly quickly. Merely a year or so after breaking his heart, she had gotten involved with someone else and created a child with him.

Well, good for her.

“Another thing,” Marshall began, “she looked like she’d been hurt. Was wearing a sling, had a bandage on her forehead. I guess she may have fallen or something.”

“Hmm,” was Nigel’s reply, a noncommittal response. But curiosity was stirring in his gut, even though he didn’t want it to.

“You gonna call her up?” Marshall asked.

“Call her?” Nigel guffawed. “Why?”

“To say hi. It’s been what, ten years?”

But the look on Marshall’s face made it clear that he was simply stirring up trouble. Nigel wondered why his best friend was goading him like this. Marshall knew how brokenhearted he had been after Callie had left town without so much as a glance backward. The last thing Nigel wanted to do now was see her, even if he was over her.

He had already paid his respects to Dave Henry and other family regarding Jean’s passing. Thankfully, he hadn’t run into Callie at the time.

“Back to the murder case at hand, my friend,” Nigel said, turning to his computer. “Because we’ve got a job to do.”

* * *

Callie awoke with a start, her eyes popping open. She was surprised to see daylight pouring into the room. It seemed as if she had only gone to bed a short while before, and that the night had whizzed by.

And though she’d clearly slept like a log, she didn’t feel well rested. Her mind had been on Nigel before she’d fallen asleep, she had even dreamed of him.

She was anxious, the plight before her weighing on her mind.

Easing her body across the bed, she reached for her phone on the night table with her good arm and checked the time. It was six fifty-two in the morning.

Then she glanced across the room to where the daybed was. Kwame, who had also been exhausted from an early start and hours of activity yesterday, lay on his stomach, his form still. He was sleeping, which didn’t surprise Callie.

Quietly, she rose from the bed and exited the room. It was quiet. Perhaps no one had woken up yet.

After using the bathroom, Callie made her way downstairs. As she neared the kitchen, she finally heard soft voices. And when she rounded the corner, she saw Natalie and Uncle Dave sitting at the small, round table.

“Morning,” Callie said, then yawned. She wrapped an arm around her uncle, gave him a warm hug. Then she did the same to Natalie.

“I made tea,” Natalie said. “But if you want coffee, I can brew a pot.”

“I can do it,” Callie said.

Natalie stood. “With one good arm? Sit. Let me get you some coffee.”

Callie didn’t argue. She sat at the table beside Uncle Dave. “How are you feeling today?” she asked him.

“I keep expecting Jean to walk into this kitchen and start fussing about what she’s going to prepare.” Uncle Dave sighed. “I’m just trying to hang in there.”

Reaching across the table, Callie squeezed his hand. There were no words. She could only provide comfort.

Callie turned toward Natalie, who had spent much of the day before inconsolable. “How are you doing today?”

“Better. Definitely better.”

Natalie didn’t face her as she filled the coffee carafe with water from the sink, and Callie knew this wasn’t a good time to ask her about her husband. There would be time for that later.

“Hey, you remember Marshall, Nigel’s friend?” Natalie asked as she began to pour the water into the coffeemaker.

“Yeah,” Callie said. “Sure I do.”

“I saw him yesterday at the church.”

“Marshall was at the church?”

“Yeah. You must have just missed him, because I ran into him when I was heading down to the basement to use the bathroom. There he was, exiting the men’s room, what a surprise. He’d come to pay his respects, of course, which was nice, though he said he didn’t have much time because he was heading to an appointment. He knew Auntie Jean from her volunteer work in the community.” Natalie paused. “He mentioned Nigel. Said both of them are detectives now.”

Callie felt a spasm of alarm. If Marshall had been at the church, and at the time that Natalie said, then he could have very well seen her. And if he had seen her, he would’ve seen her with Kwame. Wasn’t it likely that he would tell Nigel about having seen her with a young boy?

“Uncle Dave, do you know if Nigel’s family still lives at the same house where he did before?” They would be able to tell her how to find Nigel.

“Actually, Nigel lives there now,” her uncle answered. “Ever since his father moved south, Nigel’s been back there. He spent a lot of time renovating his parents’ old house. I hear it’s lovely.”

If Nigel lived in his parents’ old house, that meant he was only two blocks away.

“Good.” Callie emitted a shaky breath. “I need to see him.”

“Need to see who?”

At the sound of the voice, Callie looked toward the entrance to the kitchen and saw Deanna entering. She was wearing black silk pajamas and a pair of white slippers.

“Nigel,” Callie said, then swallowed. “I need to see Nigel.”

“Why?” Deanna asked.

“Because I…I need to have an important conversation with him and I need to have it before anyone else does.” Though it could already be too late.

Both of her sisters looked at her with concern. Callie knew they were curious, but she was suddenly anxious. She had to speak to Nigel before Marshall mentioned anything to him. Not that Nigel would necessarily put two and two together, but Natalie’s news was a sign that Callie needed to get on with this sooner rather than later.

“Callie?” Natalie prompted in a cautious tone.

Callie knew that what she was about to say would be a bombshell. She hadn’t trusted her sisters with the truth at the time because all they’d been doing then was arguing with each other. Somehow, she had come to believe that there’d be no harm in keeping the secret from them.

Same as she’d kept it from Nigel.

That was going to be the hardest part. Doing the right thing and telling Nigel the truth, after all this time.

Callie’s stomach twisted. She had loved him. Lord, how she had loved him. But she’d let a disagreement—albeit a major one—come between them.

She held no illusions that she and Nigel would reconnect romantically. Too much time had passed for that to happen. She had gone on with her life, and he had gone on with his. But what she hoped most of all was that he wouldn’t be too angry with her when she let him know the truth she had kept from him all these years.

“Whatever it is, Callie,” Natalie began gently, “you know that you can trust us with it.”

Perhaps Callie should have trusted her sisters with this years ago, but she’d just been so scared. “I have something to tell you,” she said, nerves tickling her stomach as she spoke. “Something that I told no one all these years. Except for Tamara Jackson, the friend from college who I went to Florida with. And please, try to understand my reasoning and not be upset with me.”

“You’re scaring me,” Deanna said.

“It’s Kwame.” Callie looked around, making sure that her son was nowhere in earshot. He had been sleeping when she had left the bedroom, but he could have awoken by now and been on his way downstairs.

Certain that he wasn’t lurking nearby, she continued. “When I left Cleveland, I was pregnant. I know you all knew I had a child, and you didn’t ask me any questions. Still, I felt the need to tell you that Kwame wasn’t Nigel’s son. I said nothing more, and I think you all realized that I didn’t want to talk about it because you asked me nothing else. Perhaps you even assumed the worst. That I’d broken up with Nigel and met some other guy, quickly got pregnant, and then run. But the truth is…” Callie drew in a deep breath. This was the first stage of her telling the truth. Coming clean. “I was pregnant with Nigel’s baby when I left.”

“What?” Natalie’s eyes bulged. Deanna looked dumbfounded. Uncle Dave, however, didn’t look that surprised.

“I was pregnant with Nigel’s baby. Things weren’t working out, so…I just got scared, thought it would be best to raise the baby on my own.”

“I can’t believe it,” Deanna said. “And I can’t believe Nigel let you walk away when you were pregnant with his child.”

“No,” Callie said, realizing she hadn’t been clear. “Nigel had no idea.”

“You never told him?” Natalie asked.

“I…I thought it was best.”

Deanna was shaking her head. “So now you have to tell him that he’s a father?”

“It’s going to be hard, but I have to do it. It’s the right thing. My accident made that clear. If I were to die, Kwame should know who his real father is.” Callie shrugged. “He should have known all along.”

Silence fell between them, and after a long moment, Uncle Dave said, “Your aunt figured as much.”

Now it was Callie’s turn to be surprised. “She—she did?”

“You left town so quickly, then let us know you were pregnant. And the fact that you never wanted to come back to Cleveland… Your aunt realized Nigel must’ve been the father. I’m sad to say the times we ran into him, we weren’t all that friendly. We figured he had done something really bad to hurt you. We blamed him for you not coming back here.”

Even more reason for Callie to come clean now. “Nigel and I had our problems, but the decision to leave—that was mine. I was young, scared, and I thought it was the right thing to do. I’m sorry you and Auntie Jean blamed him, because the truth is he didn’t do anything particularly horrible to me. We just…I just thought it wasn’t going to work between us…” Callie sighed. “Are you all mad at me?”

“No,” Natalie said, who moved toward her and hugged her. “I can’t say I’ll ever truly understand, but this is your business. The only person who has the right to be mad is Nigel.”

Callie drew in a deep breath and let it out in a rush. She knew that was true. And that was her biggest fear.

“That’s why I have to talk to him. Right now.”

“Right now?” Deanna asked. “It’s not even seven-thirty in the morning.”

“I know, but…” Callie swallowed. “There’s no time like the present, right? I’ve just got to do this, before I lose my nerve.”

“At least have some coffee,” Natalie told her. She went to the cupboard, got a mug and filled it with java for her sister.

Callie was going to say no, because her stomach was jumpy and she didn’t know if she could handle eating or drinking anything. But she was tired, and a jolt of caffeine might do her some good. So she went to the counter, added sugar and cream to her coffee, and took a sip to make sure it was just right.

“Do you want one of us to go with you?” Deanna asked.

Callie waved off the suggestion. “No, definitely not. This is something I need to do on my own.”

And it was. She had gotten herself into this mess, and she was the only one who could get herself out of it.

Chapter 3

Nigel Williams could count on one hand the number of times in his life that he’d been speechless. He wasn’t the type to find himself at a loss for words. But when he opened the door to his home and saw who stood there—a few minutes shy of eight in the morning—he couldn’t think of one thing to say.

He stared, and so did she. He couldn’t help wondering if his mind had conjured her, it had been that long.

“Hello, Nigel,” came the soft voice of the woman Nigel had once loved. He still didn’t speak. He could hardly think, much less form words.

“I know you’re surprised to see me,” she went on.

Callie Hart was standing on his doorstep. Surprised was an understatement.

Callie looked into Nigel’s eyes, then glanced away uncomfortably. His own gaze went to the big white bandage on her forehead. Then he looked lower, noticing that she was hunched into a light jacket that was thrown over her shoulders, as though to protect herself from the chill that had come after the rain. The late May weather had been odd lately, and the recent heat—which had caused the rain—had been followed by a cold spell this morning.

Meeting his gaze once again, Callie asked, “Can I come in?”

Nigel’s stomach clenched. Here she was, after not being in touch for ten years, and she was asking to come in as if the request was completely normal? He didn’t want to let her in. Not in the least.

“Please,” Callie repeated, her voice catching slightly. “It’s…it’s important.”

What could be so important to talk about now, ten years after she had left him?

“Did you walk here?” he asked, looking behind her and seeing no car.

“Yes.”

Nigel wanted to turn her away. He really did. No explanation for her behavior would matter at this point.

“Can we please speak inside?” Callie asked. “Because you need to hear me out. Once you do, you can send me away and I’ll never return, if that’s what you want.”

His heart pounding, Nigel contemplated what to do for a moment. Then, he stood back and held the door open wide. As Callie stepped over the threshold, he noticed the sling Marshall had mentioned, which explained why she was wearing the jacket over her shoulders. Marshall had suggested that maybe Callie had fallen, but these injuries looked more serious than that.

“What happened?” Nigel asked, indicating her injury with a jerk of his head.

“A fender bender. Nothing serious.”

“You…you seem cold,” Nigel found himself saying. “Would you like some tea?”

“That sounds great. Whatever you have.”

Nigel closed the front door, then made his way off to the right where the kitchen was. Old habits died hard. He didn’t particularly want to offer Callie tea, as if she had come on a social call, but she was shivering, and Nigel could hear his mother telling him that you should always offer your guests a drink.

Guest…Callie Hart was hardly a guest.

As he turned on the flame beneath the kettle, he paused at the counter and closed his eyes. And then he pinched himself to make sure that he wasn’t dreaming.

He wasn’t.

Glancing over his shoulder, Nigel looked at Callie, who was now standing in the living room. She had her good arm wrapped around her body. She was looking around the house with interest, obviously taking in all the changes.

“I hardly recognize the house,” she said. “These hardwood floors are beautiful. Are they original?”

“Yeah. Once I ripped up the carpet, I found those floors. I refinished them.”

“Beautiful. And I love these upscale light fixtures.”

“Thanks,” Nigel muttered, wondering why she was talking about the house. “What kind of tea do you want? Orange pekoe, something flavored?”

“Orange pekoe is fine.”

Nigel opened the cupboard and took down the box of tea. He got a tea bag and put it into a mug as the water warmed.

“I assume you did all the work?” Callie said.

“Yeah.”

“I really like how you opened the place up by knocking down the wall that used to be between the living room and kitchen.”

Nigel said nothing. Just gritted his teeth. As if he expected Callie to be here after all this time, complimenting him on the renovations he’d done to the house.

As the kettle began to boil, Nigel watched Callie move toward the pictures on one of the walls. She seemed to take a keen interest in the photo of him in his police uniform on his graduation day.

“Do you live here alone?” Callie called out.

Nigel didn’t answer. Instead, he poured boiling water into the mug. Then, leaving it there to sit, he went back out to the living room.

“Do you live here alone?” Callie repeated.

“If you don’t mind, Callie, I’d like you to get to the point of why you’re here,” Nigel said instead of answering her. “Because I don’t understand why, after all this time, you’re here at my house.”

He saw something flash in her eyes. And he got the distinct sense that all her chatter had simply been a way to break the ice, to ease the tension.

“Maybe you should sit down,” she suggested.

Nigel groaned his frustration. “Are you here to apologize, Callie? Because for the life of me, that’s the only thing that makes sense. You came back to town for your aunt’s funeral, and you’ve been attacked by a bout of conscience. Well, guess what—you’ve shown up ten years too late.”

“You’re angry,” she said.

For some reason, the comment irked Nigel all the more. “You’re damn right I’m angry.” Pausing, Nigel drew in a slow breath. “I mean, I was angry. But what happened was a long time ago.”

“I know.”

It hurt to see her, he realized. More than it should given how much time had passed. Suddenly, he didn’t care if she had that cup of tea. He was ready for the visit to be over.

“You know what, Callie—there’s no need to apologize.” If she was truly sorry, it wouldn’t have taken her ten years to show up at his door, so any apology she gave him now would ring hollow.

“I’m not here to apologize.”

That got his attention. One of his eyebrows shot up. “Then why are you here?”

“Because I need to tell you something. Something I should have told you a long time ago.” Callie drew in a deep breath. “Nigel…when I left Cleveland…” Her voice trailed off.

He studied her, wondering what on earth she had to say. Surely she wasn’t going to tell him that she regretted leaving, that she wanted him back.

The idea was laughable. But the fact that she was here meant hell had already frozen over, so anything was possible.

“You’re here, Callie,” he said. “Just spit out whatever it is that you have to say.”

“When I left here, I was pregnant,” she began slowly, not looking into Nigel’s eyes.

Nigel was confused. “I don’t understand.”

“When I left Cleveland, I was pregnant,” she repeated, her eyes now meeting his.

“What are you saying? That you were seeing someone else? Is that why you left without an explanation?”

“No, I wasn’t seeing anyone else.” Callie spoke emphatically. “What I’m saying is…I was pregnant with your baby.” Nigel saw her chest rise and fall with a shaky breath. “Nigel, you have a son.”

Seconds passed. Seconds in which it seemed as though a bomb had gone off, shattering his world.

In fact, he was certain that Callie had not said what he thought she’d just said. It didn’t make sense. If she had been pregnant with his baby, surely she wouldn’t have taken off without telling him.

“What did you say?” he asked. He needed to be sure.

“I was pregnant, Nigel. I…I had your baby. A boy. He’s here with me—”

“You’re telling me I’m a father?”

Callie nodded. “Yes. Your son’s name is Kwame.”

The simple words hit Nigel with the impact of a kick to his stomach, so much so that he exhaled all the air in his lungs in a huge gush.

“I have a…” Son? He couldn’t even say the word, it was that unbelievable.

“I know you’re surprised,” Callie went on.

“Surprised?” Nigel laughed, but it was a hollow, mirthless sound. Surprise was the least of it. He was dumbfounded. If someone had told him that his best friend was actually a robot, he would have been less surprised.

He was a father.

It seemed inconceivable. Sure, he knew that he and Callie had made love enough times to create a baby. But though they’d been young, they’d been smart enough to use protection.

“How?” Nigel asked. “How is this possible?”

“I know it’s hard to believe because we were using protection,” Callie began. “But condoms aren’t always foolproof.”

This couldn’t be happening. Surely Nigel had been transported to the twilight zone. Because what he was hearing was too bizarre to be true.

Get this—she’s got a child. Marshall’s words sounded in his mind. A young boy was getting out of the car with her. Maybe eight.

“How old is he?” Nigel asked.

“Nine.”

Nine… If the kid was nine, it certainly could be his son. His heart was racing, but with each passing second, he was becoming convinced that he wasn’t in the twilight zone.

This was really happening. This was true.

Callie had said that condoms weren’t always foolproof, and Nigel couldn’t help remembering at least a couple times that the condom had broken when they’d been together. At the time, he hadn’t been overly concerned about it. Because he had planned to spend his life with Callie, so if they’d created a child together, Nigel would have been fine with that, even if a baby had come along sooner than he had planned.

Callie, the condom broke, Nigel remembered telling her the first time it had happened.

Do you think we made a baby? Callie had asked, stroking his face, smiling as if the idea pleased her.

Nigel stiffened his jaw now, pushing the memory of that happier time from his mind. Clearly, he and Callie had created a baby one of the times that the condom had broken.

Kwame. His son.

“So you got pregnant and you didn’t tell me,” Nigel said, stating the obvious.

“I know I should have.”

“Yet you didn’t.”

“Yes,” Callie said, sounding ashamed.

It didn’t make sense that she was here. Why tell him about this now?

“So what happened to bring you here now? You had some sudden epiphany that you should finally clue me in?”

“Something like that.”

He supposed what he really wanted to know was if Callie had ever planned to tell him. “Was that your plan all along?” he asked. “To not tell me about this?”

“No, that wasn’t my plan,” Callie explained. “I never thought I would have your baby and not tell you about it.”

“Then how could you? After what we meant to each—” The words died in Nigel’s throat. Obviously, he hadn’t meant as much to Callie as he’d thought.

“I just…I felt that if we weren’t working as a couple, then why burden you with a child?”

Nigel gaped at her, then steeled his jaw in anger. “Are you serious?”

Callie looked somewhat hurt by the question, but for goodness’ sake, he was the one with the reason to be upset. For ten years, she had kept him in the dark. Starting with her pregnancy and then the birth of their son.

“I know it’s not easy to understand,” Callie said. “I’m not asking for you to forgive me. I know that would be unrealistic. I’m just asking…I’m here because I know it was time for me to do the right thing.”

“Because of what happened to you?” Nigel asked, gesturing to her injured arm. “That bandage and sling have something to do with you wanting to do the right thing? Did you get hurt in some…some crazy protest?” He would bet money on it. Callie, the fireball of passion he had known and loved, ready to speak out against injustice at every turn.

Callie looked away, pausing briefly before answering. “No, no protest. I’m not the same person I was years ago. But yes, getting hurt made me see the light. I realized that if I died, Kwame deserved to be with his father.”

“So if not for your accident, you wouldn’t be here.”

“And Auntie Jean’s death as well,” Callie said softly. “A death in the family put things into perspective.”

Nigel gritted his teeth. He wanted to hear Callie say that after all these years, nagging guilt was why she was finally here at his place. He didn’t want to hear that he was the fallback plan. That if something tragic happened to her, he would then be good enough for his son.

“A lot of holes with that plan, I can tell you,” Nigel muttered.

“I know it wasn’t the best pl—”

“For example, let’s just say something happened to you and suddenly Kwame was transferred to my care without knowing who I was. How damaging do you think that would be? Don’t you think it would’ve been better for me to forge a relationship with him ahead of time, not in case of emergency?” Nigel knew that he sounded angry, but damn it, he had a right to be.

Callie closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. “That’s why I’m here now. What happened to me was a huge wake-up call, and thankfully the worst didn’t happen. Thankfully, you can now forge that relationship with your son. I’m here, Nigel, ready to do the right thing. But if you don’t want to be a part of your son’s life—”

“Don’t you dare say that to me,” Nigel said. “You’re the one who took my son away from me. You took away my choice to be a father.”

“I’m sorry. I…”

“I know. You were hoping I would give you an excuse.” When she met his eyes with a questioning expression, he continued. “Give you an excuse to run again.”

Callie said nothing, and Nigel nodded. “I know you too well, don’t I?”

“I’m here because I want you to get to know your son.”

“How generous of you.” Nigel turned, began to pace. He needed to move. He needed to do something to help calm his frayed nerves.

He heard the soft breath that escaped Callie’s lips, and hated himself for even feeling a measure of empathy for her. He knew how hard it was for her to be here, admitting the truth. But the bottom line was, she was the one who had lied to him.

Ten years ago, if she had made a soft little sound like that, he would have curled her into his arms and held her until everything was all right.

But there would be no holding her now.

“I’m sorry,” Callie said.

Nigel faced her again. “Yeah, well, that apology is ten years too late.”

He began to pace again, and silence fell between them, the only sound in the room their heavy breathing.

When he faced her again, he saw that her eyes were filled with tears. And damn it, there was that empathy again. Empathy that she didn’t deserve.

Pausing, Nigel drew in a deep breath, one he hoped would help calm his ire. “Look, you can’t show up nine years after our son was born and expect me to jump up and down at your news.”

“I didn’t say that,” Callie said softly. She wiped a tear that had fallen down her cheek. “You think this is only hard for you? Being here is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. In many ways, it would have been easier to keep you in the dark. But I know how wrong I was, and that’s why I’m here now, realizing that you’ll likely hate me forever for what I did. Yes, it took a life-altering event for me to realize exactly what’s important in life. And I know that now. My son has a father. It’s time he get to know him. What I need to know is if you’re willing to get to know Kwame.”

“Of course,” Nigel quipped. “I have a son. I won’t turn my back on him.”

Callie nodded. “I know you’re angry. I also know that I have to deal with whatever reaction you have to this, because this is completely my fault. But I’m figuring you probably need a day or two to let this all sink in, and then maybe we can set up a time for you to meet Kwame—”

“Today. I want to meet him today.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Nigel said. Then he groaned. “Damn it, I completely forgot that I have court this morning. Then I have to work this evening. Today isn’t the best day.”

“We can set up another time,” Callie said softly.

“I’ve missed nine years of his life. I need to meet my son as soon as possible.”

Callie nodded. “Good. Because I’m not sure when I’m heading back to Florida, but it’s fair to say that time is of the essence. And I’d like for Kwame to spend as much time getting to know you before we leave.”

“When’s his birthday?” Nigel asked.

“November twenty-eighth.”

Nigel processed the information. That would make Kwame’s birth just about six months after Callie had disappeared from his world.

“Does he know about me?” Nigel asked.

Callie didn’t look at him as she spoke. “No. Not yet. I wanted to wait to see what you would say before I told him.”

“And if I didn’t want to see him, you would let him continue to live in the dark? Not know about me?”

“No,” Callie said slowly. “If you didn’t want to see him, then I would have found a way to explain that to him. But I didn’t want to get his hopes up about you and the fact that you lived in Cleveland if you didn’t want to see him.”

Nigel was silent for a long moment, weighing the validity of her answer. He stared at her, and she held his gaze, not flinching.

“Fair enough,” he finally said. “As much as I want to meet him today, it’ll have to be tomorrow morning. Around ten? If you’re going to spring it on him that I’m his father, he might need a little time to process the information. Maybe it’s best that I won’t have adequate time until tomorrow.”

Callie nodded. “Sure, we can come by at ten.”

“Good.”

Callie offered him a weak smile. Then she turned toward the door.

“Your tea,” Nigel said. “You didn’t drink it.”

“Um, I’ll be fine. It’s probably best I get back to the house, talk to Kwame.”

She made her way to the front door, and Nigel followed her. His heart was beating a mile a minute, he realized. But how could it not be? His life had just changed, in an instant.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Callie said as she opened the door. “We both will.”

“Sure. Now, are you going to tell me what else is going on?”

Callie’s eyes widened. “What are you talking about?”

“Call it a cop instinct,” he said.

Callie didn’t speak right away, just looked at him with that wide-eyed expression. He’d been a cop for nine years, and over that time had honed his senses. Every sense within him told him that Callie was keeping something from him.

“Besides, I don’t believe you came here simply because you had an attack of conscience,” he added.

Callie wrung her hands together, a sign that he was right on the money. But she didn’t speak.

“Does it have to do with the fact that your arm is in a sling?” Nigel asked. “Because that’s what my senses are telling me.”

“Your senses are off in this case,” Callie said. “My aunt died. Like I said, that’s the reason I’m here. It made me realize life is too short.”

Nigel shrugged. If that was how she wanted to play this, then fine. Why should he care whatever personal mess she might be in?

What mattered was that he had a son.

A son… The gravity of the situation hit him anew.

The woman he had loved more than any other had not only left him, she’d left him and kept their child a secret.

Nigel had always believed that Callie had loved him, loved him as deeply as he loved her, but it was glaringly clear now that she hadn’t loved him that much at all.

Chapter 4

After Callie left Nigel’s house, her heart beat furiously the entire walk back to Uncle Dave’s place. Her stomach was so upset, she actually felt pain.

Telling Nigel that he was a father had been the hardest thing she had ever done. The look on his face, one of utter devastation, still haunted her. At first, he had been bewildered, but the stunned look on his face had quickly morphed into devastation as he had accepted the truth.

Then had come the anger.

He had a right to be angry, absolutely he did, but Callie couldn’t imagine how things would go between them from here on out. Clearly, they would have to spend time together in order for Nigel to get to know Kwame. But if how she felt now was any indication of how awkward she would feel when she brought Kwame around, she wasn’t certain she could handle it.

You can, she told herself. If you can handle Auntie Jean dying, you can handle this. If you could handle your mother disappearing, you can handle this.

This was just another hard thing in her life that she had to deal with.

Her mind replayed her meeting with Nigel. He hadn’t been easy on her, which she understood, but some of his comments were uncalled for. It was clear he was automatically thinking the worst of her, despite the fact that she had come to rectify a wrong. Yes, her actions ten years ago had been despicable, and she supposed he simply couldn’t trust that her motives now were altruistic. Too much time had passed for her to expect him to know her anymore.

He did, however, seem to sense that there was something more going on with her, as evidenced by his asking more than once about her injuries. Callie hoped her lie would satisfy him, because she didn’t want to get into the real reason of why her arm and head had been hurt. Her friend Tamara’s plight wasn’t his problem. And the last thing she wanted to appear to be doing was using Tamara’s dilemma to gain any sympathy from him.

She supposed she should be happy that he’d let her into the house, allowed her any time to speak.

Her stomach tickled as she recalled the first sight of him after ten years. He still looked good. She had always loved his tall frame, and his six-foot-two body was now packed with more muscles than when she had last seen him.

He had been attractive then, with his easy smile, bright eyes and that chiseled jawline. But good Lord, he was even more handsome now.

Callie frowned as she turned onto the street that would lead back to her childhood home. Was she actually feeling a stirring in her gut? A pull of attraction for the man she had once loved?

It was insane, wasn’t it?

And yet when she thought of him again, wearing only an undershirt, and the sight of his strong, hard muscles and that smooth dark skin…

She was insane. Clearly, she was. How could she feel any morsel of a reaction to his looks after all this time?

The answer to that was clear. She may have put time and distance between them, emotionally cutting him off, but her body still reacted to him as a woman.

* * *

As Nigel headed toward the courthouse, he couldn’t even force himself to think about the murder case where he was about to give testimony. Instead, his mind was on Callie and her bombshell.

There he was at home, getting ready for work as usual, and before he’d left his house he had learned that he was a father.

A father… He had a son.

Nigel was experiencing a whole host of emotions that he couldn’t make sense of. He thought he would only feel anger and betrayal, but there were other emotions in the mix.

And of those, the overwhelming emotion was fear.

He was a father.

Tomorrow, he would meet his son for the first time.

This was wrong. A man shouldn’t meet his son for the first time at nine years old. He should meet him in the hospital, the moment he is born.

Nigel’s hands felt jittery, and he clenched the steering wheel of his unmarked police car to steady them. Had he ever been this anxious? He was scared to meet his child, and that was wrong on so many levels.

Perhaps scared was the wrong word. But he was definitely nervous. Because nine years was a long time for his child to have not known him. What if he didn’t like him? What if he rejected him as his father? Those were very real possibilities, all because Callie had selfishly lied. He didn’t care if they had broken up at the time. She had to know that he was the kind of man who would have done right by his child, no ifs, ands, or buts.

She’d taken away his right to be a father, and that was unforgivable.

As the downtown courthouse came into view, Nigel drew in a deep breath hoping to calm himself. He was angry, yes. But he knew he had to find a way to move past the angry feelings, because they would not be constructive in this situation.

Because the bottom line was that he was father. In an instant, he had learned that he was responsible for the rearing of a human being.

* * *

Callie had planned to go directly to Uncle Dave’s house, but instead she kept walking. She strolled the streets of her old neighborhood, marveling at how different it looked. As a teen, the streets had seemed so big and almost intimidating. But as an adult, they were so much smaller.

As she walked, her mind was on the pressing situation at hand. She would have to talk with her son. She would have to explain to him that he had a father, and that he was going to meet him very soon.

All night, Callie had been concerned about Nigel’s reaction to her deception. Now, she was worried about her son’s reaction. The son she had always told to tell the truth no matter the consequences, would no doubt be hurt to know that she had not been truthful with him.

She could only do what had to be done, and hope that her son understood.

She made her way back to the house, where upon entry, she could see everyone was in the kitchen at the back. Kwame was seated at the table with Natalie and Uncle Dave, while Deanna was at the stove, tending to a pan of sizzling bacon. Kwame was chuckling about something someone had said.

“Naw, not really,” Kwame said.

“I don’t believe that,” Natalie responded. “I’m certain you’re very popular at your school. I know your mother’s going to have to watch over you like a hawk. All those girls who’ll want to date you…”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Callie entered the kitchen. “Hiya, everyone. Exactly what are you all talking about?”

“We were telling your son how handsome he is,” Natalie explained, running a hand over his head.

Deanna, who was at the stove cooking, grinned at her. “And we were finding out the skinny on if he has any girlfriends.”

“Girlfriends?” Callie asked, surprised. “He’s nine.”

“Times have changed,” Uncle Dave said.

“That’s for sure,” Natalie agreed. “Love blooms younger than that these days. I have friends who tell me that their five- and six-year-olds are talking about who their girlfriends and boyfriends are in their classrooms. Obviously it’s all very innocent at that age, but still.”

“I’m certain my son has no girlfriends,” Callie said. And she was happy to keep it that way, as her son was too young for that nonsense.

But when Kwame actually flashed a nervous look, then glanced downward, Callie couldn’t have been more surprised.

Did he have a girlfriend? Obviously not a girlfriend in the true sense of the word, but someone that he liked?

She made her way over to him and sat at the table beside him. “Son? You—you have a girlfriend?”

“Well, I do kind of like this one girl in my class. Felicity.”

“Felicity?” Callie repeated, stunned. Her son had never mentioned this to her.

Kwame shrugged. “Kind of. A little.”

Callie knew that he and Felicity liked to study together, and she was one of the girls in the neighborhood who lived close enough that they could hang out sometimes. But to learn that her son actually had a crush on her…

Well, she supposed everyone had their secrets.

“Help yourself to coffee,” Deanna said. “We waited until Kwame woke up to start breakfast, so your timing is good. The scrambled eggs and bacon are almost done. And there are fresh biscuits in the oven.”

The kind of breakfast Auntie Jean used to make on a weekend morning. Callie’s stomach growled but, although she was hungry, she knew she was too anxious to eat. “I’ll just have some of that coffee for now.”

“You’re not eating?” Natalie asked.

Callie shook her head. “Not yet.”

Natalie held her gaze for a beat, then nodded. She was clearly curious as to how the meeting with Nigel went, but she knew she would have to wait to ask.

Callie went over to the coffeepot and poured herself a tall mug. She hadn’t had the tea at Nigel’s place, and she needed this.

“It really is nice to have you all here,” Uncle Dave said. “You’re filling this house with warmth, now that your Auntie Jean’s gone.”

Taking a seat between Uncle Dave and Kwame, Callie patted her uncle’s hand. Not for the first time, she thought about how she had always hoped to marry a man who loved her as much as Uncle Dave had loved her aunt.

“It does me good, having you here with me,” he said. “It’s been too long.”

“I know,” Callie said softly. “I know.”

She was going to tell Kwame that they needed to talk, but no one had eaten yet, so Callie decided to wait until he’d finished his breakfast. She had a second cup of coffee, but nothing else. She couldn’t eat when she was anxious.

There was more laughter during the breakfast conversation, but at one point there were also tears. Each day, Auntie Jean’s passing would get a little easier to bear, but she knew there were still many tears to come.

After Kwame was finished, Callie pushed her chair back and stood. She placed her hand on his shoulder and said, “Son, we need to have a talk.”

Kwame looked up at her and concern. “Is everything okay?”

Given that she hadn’t eaten, Callie knew he would be concerned. She preached the value of eating a good breakfast. “Yes,” she told him, patting his shoulder. “I’m fine. It’s just…I need to have a private talk with you about something.”

Kwame looked at her with curious eyes. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, son. You didn’t do anything wrong. We just need to talk, that’s all.”

As she left the kitchen, Callie looked over her shoulder. Deanna gazed at her and nodded, silently giving her encouragement.

Though Deanna and Natalie had spoken in general at breakfast, Callie noted that they hadn’t truly spoken to each other. There was clearly still awkwardness, which she supposed was to be expected, given the rift that had been between them.

But that was an issue Callie would have to worry about later. For now, she had to deal with breaking the news to her son that he had a father.

Walking with him upstairs, she led him to the bedroom, then sat him on the bed. She took a seat beside him and covered his hands with hers.

“What is it, Mom?” Kwame asked, his eyes wide with concern.

“I have something important to tell you.” She sighed. “And it’s not easy for me. But I want you to know that whatever questions you have, I’ll answer. Okay?”

Kwame nodded. “Okay.”

Callie paused a moment, gathering her courage, then forged ahead. “Remember how when you asked me who your father was, and I told you he was someone from my past? That I had my reasons for leaving him and didn’t want to say much more?”

Kwame nodded. “Yeah.”

Callie had known that her son had more questions, but he had respected her. He was sensitive that way. She guessed that he assumed she would tell him more when she was ready.

“Well, I want to tell you about your father now. He lives here, in Cleveland.”

She watched as his eyes grew as wide as saucers. “He does?”

“Yeah.”

A long beat passed. Then Kwame softly said, “I always thought my dad was dead.”

“You did?”

“Uh-huh. I thought…I thought if he was alive, you would have told me about him.”

Callie smiled softly. Of course. In his young mind, he had come up with a reasonable explanation for his father’s absence in his life. Because Kwame knew other kids whose parents weren’t together, but they still had a relationship with both their mother and father. He had clearly figured his father was dead for him not to know him at all.

The fact that Kwame had assumed his father was deceased made Callie feel even worse for her having kept him in the dark all these years.

“He’s definitely not dead,” Callie said. “And what I’m going to say may be hard for you to hear. I only hope that you know that it wasn’t my intention to hurt you.”

Kwame nodded.

“Your father and I…before you were born, we’d had our differences. Differences that led me to believe that raising you alone was the best thing. I didn’t even tell him I was pregnant.” Callie paused, noted that her son was looking at her with interest and compassion, not judgment. He was wise beyond his years.

“It was the wrong decision, honey. And a big part of me feels embarrassed to admit this to you, but I don’t want you to be mad at him.”

“So he never knew about me?” Kwame asked. “At all?”

“No, sweetheart. I want to make that clear to you. It’s not like your father knew you existed and chose not to be a part of your life. I…I feel awful for what I did, but all I can say is that at the time, I had my reasons. Reasons that seemed good to me. A lot has happened in the last couple weeks that has made it clear that I was wrong, and that you ought to know who your father is.” Callie paused. “So that’s where I went this morning. To see your father and tell him about you.”

Kwame was silent, and Callie could see in his eyes that he was processing everything. After several seconds, he asked, “What did he say?”

“That he wants to meet you.”

Kwame’s smile was hesitant. “He did?”

“Of course.” She ran a hand over his head affectionately. “Of course he would.” She kissed Kwame’s cheek. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about him before, but I was scared.”

“You were?”

“Yes. With each day that passed that I didn’t tell you about your father and where he lived, it became harder to know what to say to you when the time came. Mostly because I wasn’t ready to contact him about you. I was worried about how he would react if I told him the truth.”

“Was he mad?”

Callie nodded. “Uh-huh,” she said, opting for the truth. “But he had a right to be. And he could have been more upset. But the most important thing for him was learning that he had a son.”

Another pause ensued. Then Kwame asked, “What’s his name?”

“His name is Nigel. Nigel Williams.”

“What does he do?”

“He’s a police officer. Actually, a detective. He solves murders.”

“Cool,” Kwame said.

Callie was glad that her son was immediately warming to the idea of having a father, rather than being shocked and hurt that she hadn’t told him the truth all along.

But he didn’t say what she had expected him to say, that he wanted to meet his father, so Callie asked. “Honey, do you want to meet him? I know this is all so sudden—”

“I want to meet him today,” Kwame said with enthusiasm. Then he immediately glanced away. “Unless…unless you don’t want me to.”

Callie’s heart ached to hear those words from her son’s mouth, but could she blame him? “The whole reason I’m telling you about him is because I want you to get to know him,” she explained. “I figured that you might need some time before meeting him, to process it all, but it seems that you’re as eager to meet him as he is to meet you.”

“Will it be today?” Kwame expelled an audible breath, one full of nervousness.

“As I said, your father is a police officer, so he’s got to go to court today and work later, but tomorrow morning, we’ll go meet him. Sound good?”

“Sure,” Kwame said.

“Great.” Now Callie was the one to exhale nervously. This was really going to happen. Kwame and Nigel would finally meet.

“Can I go downstairs now?” Kwame asked.

“Of course.”

As he bounded out of the room, a smile touched Callie’s lips. Her son had taken this news very well.

Thank God for the resilience of children.

But the real test would come tomorrow.

Chapter 5

Nigel had planned not to tell Marshall about Callie’s revelation until after he met his son. But it didn’t take long after they started their evening shift for Marshall to realize that he was completely distracted and ask him what was going on.

So he told him. Told him about the surprise visit from Callie and what she’d said.

Marshall stared at him with the same dumbfounded expression Nigel was sure he’d worn this morning when Callie had stunned him with her news.

“What?” Marshall asked. “What did you just say?”

Nigel expelled a huff of air. He’d spent the day trying to get a handle on his emotions. He kept alternating between being confused, surprised and angry.

Right now, after having relayed the story to Marshall, he was back to being livid. “She said that I’m a father.”

“No way.”

“That’s what she says.”

“So the kid she was with… About eight, right?”

“He’s nine,” Nigel said. “The timing fits. The date of his birth is six months after we broke up.”

“I can’t believe it, man. What are you going to do?”

“It’s all just sinking in,” Nigel told him. “The reality of it. I didn’t wake up expecting to learn that I’m a father. The situation is so surreal. But that said, if the kid is mine—”

Nigel didn’t finish what he was saying. A part of him never wanted to see Callie again, not after her revelation. He had loved her, but clearly she hadn’t loved him at all. For her to leave him, while carrying his child, and wait ten years to tell him about this… If that wasn’t the lowest of the low, then what was?

“You believe her?”

“Yeah, I do.” And that was the problem. Because considering he believed her, then he had no choice but to get to know his child. Which meant he had to see Callie again, even if that was the last thing he wanted to do.

“I wish I could throw her in jail for this,” Nigel went on. “Lock her up and throw away the key.” But even as he said the words, he knew he was lying. He was speaking the language of an angry man. One who had been deceived. “But if Kwame is my son…” He paused, once again feeling the gravity of the situation.

He was a father.

“Then you’re gonna accept him,” Marshall supplied.

“Yeah.”

“Of course. I knew that for you there would be no other choice. You’re not the type to turn your back on your child, even under these circumstances.” Marshall paused, his eyes widening as he shook his head. “But it’s gonna be hard, man. To not have been in the kid’s life all this time… He might reject you.”

Marshall knew him too well. He’d been a friend of Nigel’s for twelve years, ever since they’d met at college. They’d both gone on to become police officers, following a similar path within the police force. Nigel had become a sergeant in six years, Marshall in seven. Nigel became a detective three years ago, and Marshall followed him a year later. The best friends were now partners.

So Marshall knew there was no way that Nigel could walk away from his son, whether or not he’d known he existed. Nigel was the kind of man who, if he had fathered a child during a one-night stand, would’ve been in the child’s life as a full-time father.

This child, however, had been born out of love.

Love, he thought sourly. He had loved Callie, but how did a woman who had claimed to love him lie to him for all these years?

“No matter how hard it will be, I have to be in his life,” Nigel said. “Take it slow. Day by day.”

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