9

Little Palm Cay, Turks and Caicos

INDIA OPENED HER condo’s door only to slam it. Even if it hadn’t been pushing midnight, she was too tired to deal with Briggs. “Go away! I can’t believe you left me!”

“You had my note.” His muffled voice unfortunately passed through the thin door. “I saw the entire fleet of boats and knew you were safe. Trident—the security team I work for is handling Turtle’s case. They’re doing it for me—us. Because I was an idiot for leaving you. Not just this morning, but all those months ago.”

“True . . .” She hugged herself.

“I’m sorry. Let me in. We need to talk.”

She begrudgingly opened the door. “Take off your shoes.”

He complied.

“Can I see her?” Arms crossed, head bowed, he looked defeated. That was the last thing she wanted for her baby girl—for her own father not to be excited by the thought of his first meeting with his daughter.

“No. She’s sleeping.”

“Come on. I need this.” He barged inside, shutting the door behind him.

She refastened the locks. “Why now? What’s changed?”

He shook his head. Laughed. “Nothing. Everything. My boss sent me. He staged a sort of intervention. Some of the stuff he said—it got me thinking. He was in 1920’s-era shotgun wedding mode, demanding I make an honest woman out of you. Is that what you want?”

Her heart lurched. In her secretmost heart? Of course. But not if he didn’t want that. What kind of woman wanted to be with a man who didn’t want her? That kind of life wouldn’t be worth living for her or Bridgette.

“India? Please . . . Tell me the truth. In a perfect world. If my boss said I could open a branch office for the Caribbean here and we could be together, is that what you’d want?”

Hot tears stung her eyes. “Why are you doing this? Why now? After all this time?”

“Because even before you told me about what happened to Turtle, or the baby, I missed you. He stepped forward, cradling her face with his hands, kissing the tears from her cheeks and then lips. “Maybe all this time I’ve been wrong—not just about us, but a lot of things. I’m not saying we should jump into marriage or that I can be the kind of father our child deserves, but I’m willing to try. I want to try. Is that okay?”

“No! You don’t have the right to just barge in here and decide when you get to come back into our lives . . .” I wanted you here the whole time. But you wouldn’t come. You made it so clear you never wanted to be my husband that I was too proud to ask.

“Let me in,” he whispered against her lips, his hot breath stirring old emotions better off left alone.

“No.” She grew hyperaware of each hitched breath. Of the living room’s cramped space. Of the flimsy robe she’d thrown on from her shower in anticipation of going to bed. A decorating show played softly on TV. Her heart beat so loud, she couldn’t remember which one. Liquid heat pooled between her legs. Her body recalled all too well the kind of pleasure his hands and mouth created. “This is serious.”

“Damn straight, it is . . .” He unfastened her robe, skimming his hands along the curve of her waist. Call it a cliché, but she wanted him like air. Like water. Her nipples hardened, her core pulsed and throbbed. No man had ever made her feel like Briggs did. She hated him for it. For the power he held. It wasn’t fair.

He nuzzled her neck, dipping his fingers between her legs.

It was shameful how few rubs it took until she came.

“Let me in,” he said in a hot breathy moan in her ear before taking off his T-shirt.

She dragged down his boxers and shorts, found him hard, then pushed him to the sofa.

Refusing to relinquish all control, she climbed on top. Aside from a brief thought that she shouldn’t be making love to him again without a condom, she put aside all reason in favor of pure, raw physical sensation. He was the sun and the moon and everything good in between. She rode and rode until both breathed heavy and sweat coated their skin. When they came together, worlds collided as if they’d never been apart. As if they’d always been meant to be reunited.

Falling forward, resting her cheek on his chest, India swallowed a twinge of fear. Now that she’d let Briggs in, would he stay?

To say that what just happened was surreal would be the understatement of the decade.

Briggs brushed India’s fallen hair back from her eyes. “You have to know I didn’t come here expecting that to happen?”

She nodded.

“It’s probably not good it did. I’m clean—I haven’t been with another woman since you. But what if you become pregnant again?”

“Really?” Sighing, she gave herself a hard push, but he grabbed her wrists, tugging her back down, hugging her close.

“I’m sorry. Just hear me out. If we’re going to do this, don’t you think we should take it slow?”

“I’m seriously doubting we should do anything at all. You’re right about you having problems, Briggs. Honestly, I think it’s probably best if you leave.” She was up, closing her robe, securely tying the belt.

“Please don’t say that.” He followed her lead in redressing, making quick work of dragging on his boxers, shorts and T-shirt. They both needed a shower, but even more, they still needed to hash out critical issues.

“What are you talking about? You’re the one who made this whole big hairy deal about the fact that you had such a rough childhood that you couldn’t possibly adult. Well, newsflash, adulting is challenging for all of us, Briggs. You don’t get a special immunity pass. I’m sorry you had a tough time of it as a little kid—really, I am. But that makes the fact that you want to bail on your own innocent child even more tragic.”

“You just told me to leave!”

“Because you’re certifiable!”

“We’re talking in circles.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “I get that I have issues. I’ll find a counselor. Talk them out. I want to make this right. But it takes two to tango, India. I can’t be a family by myself. Where is she? I need to see her.” He charged through the space, opening doors.

A broom closet.

“Briggs, stop. Don’t wake her.”

A/C storage.

“Don’t be bullish like this.”

A bathroom.

“You have to be gentle.” She opened the last door on the right of a short hall. “Shh . . .” Waving him forward, she stepped back to allow him first entry into a shell pink room illuminated by a unicorn nightlight that somehow beamed iridescent stars onto the ceiling. Already he was in awe. Yes. This was the sort of room a baby should have. How could any infant not have sweet dreams in such an enchanted space?

He approached Bridgette’s crib cautiously, with reverence and respect. It was strange to have vowed his entire adult life to never be a father, yet in one instant, here he was, on the verge of meeting his own rewritten destiny.

Heart pounding, mouth dry, Briggs took each careful step extra slow so as not to wake his baby girl. Somehow—in a magical instant, he knew he would always be with her. With India. Somehow, they’d make this work.

At the ornately carved mahogany crib, he curved his fingers over the side, peering past a rocket-ship and star mobile to the blanket-wrapped bundle. Hands trembling, he reached down to touch this precious part of himself, only to get a shock to find nothing there. He jerked at the fuzzy blanket to discover it had been wrapped around a stuffed pig.

“What are you doing?”

“Babe, she’s not here. The crib’s empty.” Briggs searched the crib’s every corner, but sure enough, the infant was gone.