Five o’clock traffic was unusually light, or maybe I’d hoped I’d get caught behind a six-car pileup that would take me well into the night. When that hadn’t happened, I pulled in behind James. The drive hadn’t prepared me to have this conversation with my husband—nothing could.

While I sat in my car taking deep, cleansing breaths to keep the anxiety attack at bay, James had gotten out of his and walked toward me. He tapped on the glass with his knuckles. With a silent prayer and a quick deal with God, I grabbed my purse from the passenger seat and got out to greet him.

“Hey, babe.” James kissed me the way he did every night when he came home, except normally it was in welcome. Tonight something was off.

“Why are you home so early? Does your head still hurt?” I peered up at my husband, aware my brow was knitted and concern creased my forehead. He wasn’t prone to migraines, but he’d had one last night that put him in bed before the sun went down.

He snaked an arm around my waist and squeezed me to his side. Everything always felt so perfect next to him. The two years we’d been apart had been a self-imposed hell I never cared to revisit. I thanked God every day when he walked in the door that, somehow, we’d found our way back to each other. Now I worried with the news I had to share, this might drive another wedge between us the same way it had seven years ago.

“No, my head’s okay. How was your day?” His voice shook just a hint, like maybe he needed to clear his throat. Or maybe I was hearing things because of what lay in front of us.

Leaving the cocoon of his embrace, I reluctantly opened the door to walk inside, dreading what was coming. “It wasn’t great.”

He still hadn’t answered my question about why he was home so early, but before I could ask again, he probed me. “Anything in particular?”

The weight of my purse hitting the counter when I set it down made a hollow thud. From the corner of my eye, I saw James set his bag on the floor and wondered when I’d begun to find metrosexual attractive. He watched me move around the kitchen—I was clearly on a mission—and then his eyes widened in surprise when I pulled out a bottle of wine and two glasses. And I wasn’t shy with the servings. I could only hope alcohol softened the blow and lessened the yelling.

He took the glass I offered, hesitating to drink when I didn’t propose a toast, although we probably should have just drunk straight from the bottle and saved ourselves the hassle of cleanup. It could have been Mad Dog 20/20 in that glass, and it wouldn’t have mattered. James tried not to guzzle it, but I had thrown caution to the wind, taking large gulps before finally meeting his eyes when I swallowed the last drop.

“Drake offered me another international position.” The sting of trying to hold my emotions at bay burned until my eyes brimmed with tears.

I couldn’t read his thoughts from his blank expression. I watched in slow motion as he lowered his glass from his lips and set it on the counter. The corner of his eye twitched, and his pupils dilated slightly before returning to normal. Then his hands went to his hair and pulled at the roots. This did not bode well for me.

“W-what?” he stammered as though he’d consumed a bottle of wine on his own.

“Yeah, Italy.” Once the waterworks started, they’d continue for most of the night. “James, I did my time. I don’t want to go overseas. That’s great for people who are single, but how can he expect employees with spouses at home to just take off for two years?” The trickle started down my cheek, and I swiped furiously at the never-ending stream.

“Tell him you can’t take the job.”

His answers were always so simple. James wasn’t taking into account this was my career. I’d been with the company for close to a decade counting my internship. The hiccup that escaped my mouth exaggerated the shake of my head. “If I don’t take it, then there won’t be a job at Halifax for me. I’ve been with them for nine years—nine.”

“I don’t think you’d lose your job if you turned down a position in Italy.” His words were harsh and insensitive, and by the scowl he tried to hide, he was aware of it. He’d hated Drake Halifax for the better part of my career. And even worse, he hated the control Drake had over the staff. James thought Drake was the master of manipulation, and this was a prime example.

“He was pretty clear that it wasn’t optional. So the question becomes, what are we going to do if I lose my job?”

I’d worked hard to get where I was. The education alone took years to obtain, and I’d put in more than my fair share of hours to impress the man behind the company name. It had paid off; he’d noticed me—it had also nearly cost me James. I refused to let that happen again.

“We don’t need the income if that’s what you’re worried about. Even without taking money out of savings or drawing off either of our trust funds, I make enough to cover our expenses. The question really isn’t what are we going to do; the question is, what do you want to do? The last time he made you an offer like this, you jumped at the chance to leave the country.” Hurt still lingered in his eyes; I’d nearly destroyed him then.

“James…”

“Just be honest with me, Cora. You have to tell me what you want to do so we can figure out what we are going to do.” He emphasized my desires and our plans, and I loved him for that.

“I have no interest in moving to Italy.” I didn’t, but even if I had, I loved my husband more than any job, and if he wasn’t on board, then we weren’t leaving.

“Have you really thought about it? Or is this you saying what you think I need to hear?” He rubbed his temples. There was something weighing on him other than Drake Halifax and us relocating.

I cocked my head to the side and stared at him, taking him in. There were bags under his eyes that normally weren’t there, the sides of his mouth turned down unnaturally, and a permanent crease stretched across his forehead that I’d never noticed before. “What’s going on with you?”

He inhaled deeply and slowly released the breath he’d just taken. Twice. “I think we need more wine.”

Jesus, this couldn’t be good. My eyes tracked him through the kitchen as he grabbed another bottle and the corkscrew. He motioned with his head for me to grab our glasses, and then I followed him out to the back porch. The sun still hung in the sky, providing a warm evening in New York. I loved this time of year. The nights weren’t too hot, yet not so cold I needed a sweater—and the sunsets were unbelievably colorful.

He turned his chair to face mine and took a long swallow of wine, or three, before finishing the glass. I stared at each movement as though I might find an answer in it. However, when he put his elbows on his knees and took my hands, I had to fight against more tears. All I saw on my husband’s face was total devastation.

“What’s wrong? Please talk to me.” My voice cracked and my throat closed. The lump hurt to swallow past.

“There’s no easy way to tell you this.”

I wanted to holler at him to just spit it out, but my mouth refused to open.

“Do you remember Chelsea?”

Of course I did. Even though it had been years since her name had come up, at one point, they were pretty good friends. While I never admitted to the jealousy I harbored for her, it existed. My feelings hadn’t been hurt when I came back from France and found out she’d flittered off into the unknown. But if she had resurfaced, that couldn’t be good. At some point, I must have nodded.

“She passed away.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. How did you find out?” I was sorry. She was close to us in age if I recalled correctly, and he had cared for her. I had feigned interest when he spoke of her during those years I was gone, so I was sure he thought it would matter to me.

“I got a letter from her attorney in the mail yesterday.” He looked up from our hands to meet my eyes.

“Why would her attorney contact you?” My head pulled back in confusion, waiting for his answer.

Instead of responding, he handed me the envelope he’d received in the mail. I glanced at the sender—Clary, White, & Boyd—not recognizing any of the names from Geneva Key. Unfolding the piece of paper, my eyes bounced back and forth between James and the sheet in front of me. When my gaze finally met the words on the page, I didn’t have to read it; the entire contents stood out in just a few short words: paternity test (DNA) for minor child Airy.

“You said you used a condom!” I wasn’t sure what that proved at this point. “Her kid can’t be yours. You promised me.”

“I did use a condom. I’d never lie to you about that.”

“Then how can she claim you’re the father of her child?” I rarely raised my voice. However, as we sat on our back porch, it dawned on me that I was screaming at my husband over something that happened six years ago…when we weren’t together.

He handed me another piece of paper—this one already unfolded. “I have no idea, Cora. All I can tell you is she had a condom, and we used it. It didn’t break. I know she didn’t go back to get it off the beach. I have no clue how she got pregnant.”

Ninety-nine point nine percent. James had fathered a child he’d never met and knew nothing about. And now the mother of this child was gone.

My mind went blank, my heart hurt, and my chest constricted. I grabbed my wine and raced into the house with James on my heels.

“Please don’t walk away.” The anguish in his voice ripped at my heart. “I’m scared, Cora. Please help me.”

Never, in all the years I’d known and loved James, had I ever heard him admit he was afraid. And when I turned around, he stood in front of the sliding glass doors, shoulders slumped, tears streaming down his cheeks, completely broken.

“Please.” It was nothing more than a whisper, almost a prayer.

And I couldn’t bear for him to endure this alone. I couldn’t even be angry that we now faced an issue no one should ever deal with. I couldn’t imagine why Chelsea had kept the baby a secret, but we’d never have an answer to that question. We wouldn’t get the answers to lots of questions. All that mattered was my husband was destroyed, hanging on by a thread…and somehow, we’d figure out a way to get through this. Together.

***

At that moment, I needed to connect to my husband, the man I loved, the one I’d committed my life to, because the world didn’t make sense without him. I needed a reminder of the bond we shared and that the world fell away when his skin was flush with mine.

James didn’t question me when I pulled him to our bedroom, or when I undressed him before removing my own clothes, or when I pushed him down on the mattress. And when I straddled his waist and he sunk into me, his eyes remained focused on mine without a word uttered between us. He let me be the aggressor, expending the negative energy his news had brought, casting aside my disdain for Drake Halifax, and when the tears began to fall, he rolled me over, reminded me of how desperately he loved me, and brought me back home…to the place where nothing could hurt us, as long as we were together.

Lying next to each other—my chest pressed to his, our sticky skin cooling off—he ran his fingers through my hair and traced my cheek with his thumb. The light through the window had started to wane, and shadows fell around us, yet I could still see his crystal-blue eyes focused on me and searching my features. Everything in our life was suddenly uncertain, but I knew for sure that I’d walk through a burning house to save this man, and I wouldn’t leave his side.

When James finally spoke, it was obvious he thought I was saying goodbye, when in reality, I’d been taking his hand. “I’m sorry. I’m lost over what to do. You never wanted children, and this one isn’t even ours.”

With more conviction than I actually felt, I tried to reassure him. “I can’t say I’m happy. The only thing I can tell you is that we’ll get through it together. Somehow, we’ll figure it out.”

“How do you figure out a kid? It’s not like you’re pregnant and we have nine months to formulate a plan. This child is already here and just lost its mother.”

“Do you have any information about it? Is it a boy or a girl? Who has the child now? Is it in foster care?” That was only the tip of the iceberg of the questions we needed answered.

He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I didn’t ask anything. What kind of father does that make me? I don’t know the first thing about my own child.”

It was hard to comfort him when I needed so much myself—we both had the same uncertainty and neither of us had any answers. The truth was, we were just going to have to wade through it and hope we didn’t drown in the process. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. It’s hard to be informed when things were intentionally kept from you.”

“I can’t imagine why she never told me. It wasn’t like the two of us never talked again.” Something had just crossed his mind, a realization, though he hadn’t shared it. “She would have been several months pregnant when I left for Paris.”

“So you think she didn’t tell you because of me?” I highly doubted that.

“I never spoke to her again after I came back from France. I texted her the night we got engaged to tell her you’d accepted. She never responded, and I didn’t think much about it. Once I got home, I tried a couple times to reach her. We were so busy at the office that I didn’t pursue it.”

“Maybe she started dating someone.” It was as plausible as his explanation.

“In Geneva Key? I don’t think she had an affinity for older men in golf attire.”

“Unfortunately, James, if she didn’t give you any answers, I don’t think you’re going to find them now. Maybe she has a family member taking care of the child while all this plays out. That person might be your only hope for resolution.”

He rolled onto his back, leaving my front cold and bare. His forearm crossed over his face, shielding most of his expression from view, but I knew he was upset by that action alone. “I have to go to Geneva Key.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“You don’t have to go with me. I have no idea how long any of this is going to take. I could walk in, sign some papers, and they shove the kid my way. Or they make me take parenting classes and do visitation before they turn over custody. What if this isn’t about custody at all and just about child support?”

“I think you need to figure out what role you want to play in the child’s life. The torment that kid is feeling losing its mother has to be horrible. Chelsea’s family may try to keep custody—you need to be certain before you get there if you’re choosing to fight.”

“She doesn’t have any family. Her mother died right before I came to see you in Paris. The only other person in her life was her mother’s best friend, Dottie.”

“Then you’re prepared to take custody of a son or daughter you’ve never met?”

He lifted his arm from his face and looked at me like I was an idiot. “No. I’m not prepared to take care of a kid. But I can’t walk away, either.”

“Then there’s your answer. So when are we leaving?”

He kissed my lips so tenderly that I melted into his embrace. When he tipped his forehead to mine, if I hadn’t already determined I’d be by his side, that would have sealed the deal. There hadn’t been a single day since James Carpenter had walked into my life that I’d ever doubted how he felt about me—although seeing it never got old. And if he made a decision to love a child, it would be with the same abandon he loved me.

“I guess I need to go in to work tomorrow and talk to Neil. Then book a flight. What are you going to do about the job offer?”

Clearly, he still didn’t get it. I wasn’t going to Italy without him, and that wasn’t an option since we were both going to Geneva Key. “My guess is he will let me go tomorrow when I inform him I’m not taking the promotion and that I need an undetermined amount of time off to go home.” I offered James a gentle smile, the one my heart naturally forced upon my lips anytime my husband was around.

“I love you, Cora. More than anything in the world.” And he did. I’d never questioned that.

“I love you, too.”

He kissed the top of my head and wrapped me in his arms. Thoughts ran wildly through my head, though my heart was content. The what-ifs and whys tried to take over, but the circles he traced on my spine relaxed me until I fell asleep in his embrace.

***

Sitting on a plane, waiting to taxi down the runway, I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d made the right decision. I hadn’t been surprised when Drake had let me go two days earlier—I couldn’t say I was upset, either. I loved my job, on the other hand, the man who owned the company left a lot to be desired. He’d taken far too great an interest in me since the day I’d started. Flattery had quickly turned to irritation when he scrutinized every move I made. And James was right, we didn’t need the money. Although, it still felt like failure.

James and I hadn’t talked much since the night he told me about Chelsea. He was lost in his head, and I was content to let him stay there. It wasn’t that I wasn’t supportive, I just wondered how our lives were going to change and whether or not I could handle it. I’d never had a desire for children, however, I didn’t have an aversion to them. I didn’t want for my child exactly what I’d grown up to face and what this poor kid was facing at such an early age.

Yet I had to believe my fear was nothing more than uncertainty. Even though I wasn’t typically a wishy-washy woman, my thoughts on this had waved like a flag in the breeze, bending whichever way the wind blew at that moment. Hopefully, once we found out what we had to deal with, the pieces would fall into place. They had to.

“You okay?” James squeezed my hand reassuringly.

“Just nervous.”

“About flying?”

I scoffed. I didn’t have a fear of planes. “No.” And I rolled my eyes.

“Is there any part of you that’s excited?”

“Cautiously, maybe. I guess not having any details makes this harder than it has to be. I think I’ll feel better when we’re in the attorney’s office and things start moving.”

He nodded in agreement but didn’t respond. His eyes closed, and his head tilted back against the seat as we took off. I leaned against his shoulder and stared at the tray table in front of me. In a couple hours, this ball would start rolling, and I hoped it didn’t go so fast that it spun out of control.

A few hours and a rental car later, James and I opened the door that would irrevocably change our lives.

“Clary, White, and Boyd. How may I direct your call?” The receptionist clearly hadn’t been the recipient of one of the firm’s letters, or she wouldn’t be nearly as peppy answering their phone.

When she finished with the call, she greeted the two of us standing in front of her. The only sign of fear either of us showed was the trembling in our clasped hands.

“James and Cora Carpenter. We’re here to see Karen Clary.” My husband’s voice was calm and cool.

She typed something on her computer, waited for a moment, then stood and escorted us back. The conference room sat empty except for the pitcher of water, a carafe of coffee, and cups in the center of the table.

“Mrs. Clary will be right with you. Please help yourself to coffee and water. There are some snacks on the table in the corner if you’d like anything to eat.” When James nodded at her, she turned and closed the door behind her as she left.

I didn’t have a chance to finish making a cup of coffee before a woman in her mid-fifties strolled in. She was full of confidence, primly dressed, and wearing the most fabulous heels. Any other time, I would have inquired about them, unfortunately that seemed a tad inappropriate given the circumstances.

“I’m Karen Clary. You must be James and Cora. It’s nice to meet you.” As she shook both of our hands, the two of us remained silent and let her lead.

“As you know, Chelsea Airy passed away two weeks ago, naming you the sole guardian of her five-year-old son, Legend.”

It was totally inappropriate, but I couldn’t stop the giggles that erupted. James glared at me, horrified by my outburst. Regardless, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop running this kid’s name through my head. Legend Airy—legend-ary. Who would do such a thing to their only child, their first born? It was horrendous—poor guy was going to be the laughing stock of the playground.

“What is wrong with you?” James hissed at me under his breath while giving the lawyer a sideways glance to show he didn’t have a clue what was going on or approve of my behavior.

“I’m sorry.” I tried to whisper, but my voice carried. “Legend Airy…that’s your son’s name.” The weight of what had just come out of my mouth hit me. And then the tears did as well. My fingers met my lips, and in total wonder, my giggles morphed to awe. “You have a son.” Those four words were barely heard.

The hand that had hidden my astonishment now cupped his jaw. I didn’t bother to hide the overflow of emotions from my husband or the attorney. I kissed his lips and repeated myself. “You have a son.” I smiled as if I’d just given birth and the doctor had presented us with our new addition.

Karen didn’t interrupt our moment or rush us back to whatever information she needed to share. She gave us time to process what we’d just learned. When we finally turned back to her, she waited with a smile on her face.

“I have to admit, Mr. Carpenter…I worried about how this would all play out when we first spoke. I’m glad to see you and your wife are open and possibly even excited about your son.”

“He doesn’t have any other family who wants custody?” My eyebrows rose in question, and suddenly, it seemed hard to imagine that no one would fight us for this little boy. My emotions were all over the place. If I weren’t careful, I’d give myself whiplash.

“Chelsea didn’t have any family, but Legend has been staying with Chelsea’s friend—”

“Dottie?” James interrupted her.

“Yes. Chelsea and Legend lived with her, so the court granted temporary custody to her until the paternity testing was completed and you were able to get back to Florida.”

“So, he’s okay?” The worry in James’s eyes was something I’d never seen before—not on him. Although, I’d seen it cross my own father’s expression countless times when I was a child.

“As well as can be expected. Chelsea did a good job of preparing him for her death.”

“He’s five…why would she have prepared him? Did she have cancer or something?” James wasn’t quite as eloquent as I would have liked him to be. He responded based on emotion, and I’d just had an explosion of inappropriate laughter.

“Mr. Carpenter, Chelsea had juvenile Huntington disease.”

“Her mom died of Huntingtons. I thought it took years, and the decline didn’t start until her forties or later.”

“I’m fairly ignorant about the disease; I just know that Chelsea was in late stage one when she was pregnant with Legend. Juvenile Huntingtons is very aggressive, and death usually occurs in less than ten years.”

James sat there stunned, apparently unaware this girl had been affected by the disease at all. Although, now wasn’t the time to ask him how he could have missed something so monumental.

“When will we meet him?” My question was soft and shy.

Somehow, I felt like it wasn’t my place to ask. At the same time, this was my husband’s son. Now our son. Nervousness and excitement rolled into an emotional ball of frenzy that whirled around inside my mind and did somersaults in my stomach. One minute the idea of James having a child was terrifying, and the next, almost natural. My heart and mind bounced over all the emotions in between, but never at the same time.

“Does he know about me?” James had been relatively quiet sitting next to me, so when he blurted out this question, it was as if the answer was the difference between life and death.

“He does. He’s also been told that someone special is here to see him. Since you hadn’t communicated what your intentions were, Dottie didn’t think it was in his best interest to get his hopes up, and then you walk away.”

“But he’s mine. I get to keep him, right?”

“He’s not a dog, James.” I rolled my eyes at his insidious question, choosing to ignore that I could have done a five-minute comedy routine on the kid’s name alone.

“Legally, yes. Chelsea named you his sole guardian and parent. However, if for some reason the two of you are averse to those roles, Dottie is prepared to have you sign over custody and all parental rights.”

“She wants my kid?” My husband’s face grew angry, and the crimson crept up his neck and into his cheeks.

“Not in a malicious, or even greedy way, Mr. Carpenter. She has been with Legend every day since he was born. She is the only family, other than Chelsea, he’s ever had.”

“But she has to be like a hundred years old,” he screeched his disbelief.

“James.” Now it was my turn to hiss at him.

The attorney chuckled at his outburst. I, on the other hand, was mortified. “I assure you, Mr. Carpenter, she only has Legend’s best interest at heart. Dottie thought it would be best if you met Legend in a place less formal than this, one he’d be comfortable in.”

“Like her house?”

I wanted to laugh at the expression on his face. Neither of us had a clue how to handle any of this. James was doing the best he could, even if he hadn’t managed to hide his dismay.

“No, he likes to play at the park by the pier. She thought it would be a safe place for him to welcome you into his world.”

My mind had retreated back to a place of uncertainty. This was about to happen, and I wasn’t sure I could face it. If it hadn’t meant leaving James, I would have been out that door without risk of it hitting me in the behind as it closed.

“When?” James’s face was unreadable. His eyes danced with excitement, even though his knee bounced with anxiety, and his thumb stroked mine in soothing love. None of his body languages agreed with each other.

“Today at three if you’re available.” Karen’s eyes were kind and understanding as if she’d dealt with this type of thing a hundred times before.

James glanced at me for approval, and I just nodded, wondering where the hell life would take us in two hours.