“Damn it, Kristen,” Roman barked, shoving away from me and striding toward his sister. “He’s a bodyguard, not a bellhop.”
“Oh, shut up, Roman. He offered to help. Besides, he’s going to be eating some of it, too.” She batted her eyelashes. “I made extra since I’m sure a big, strong guy like Devon has quite an appetite.” She bit her lip and shot Roman an exaggerated wink.
While Kristen did think Devon was hot (and he was), she really just enjoyed screwing with her brother.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he bit out, snatching the tray from Devon’s hands.
“Roman!” Cathy scolded as she came through the front door. “It’s Thanksgiving. Can you give the cursing a rest?” Her hands were filled with a million bags, and a huge smile covered her face as her gaze met mine.
I hopped off the counter, straightened my dress, and headed to help her. I was pulling bags from her hands when I was wrapped in a hug from behind.
“My girl came home,” Rome mumbled to himself before releasing me. Taking the bags from my hands, he grumbled at his wife, “Woman, I told you I’d get the bags.”
“And I told you…” She kept talking, but I lost her words as she bustled to the kitchen.
As I watched the man I loved—who, only minutes earlier, had slipped a ring on my finger—as he argued with his sister in the kitchen, his parents chattering under their breath, and one lost and confused bodyguard skillfully trying to make his escape out the back door, I realized that Rome was not wrong.
I was home.
“Shelly,” I called to my secretary. “Where is the new offer from Wells?”
She peeked her head around the corner. “I’m assuming it’s on the table with the rest of your mail. I didn’t open anything that was personally addressed to you.”
I groaned, cutting my eyes to the table that had to be moved into my office sometime over the last week, for no other purpose than to hold all of the mail I’d received while I’d been out.
I quietly cursed myself for having made the rule about mail after Shelly had opened a blow-up doll Kristen had sent to the office for my birthday. Only it hadn’t been my birthday and she’d only done it because she was pissed and knew that my secretary opened all my mail. She’d ordered it on her cell phone while impatiently sitting in the chair across from the desk, waiting for me to get off a business call.
Taking two weeks off to spend time with Elisabeth had been amazing. Part of it had been spent working with attorneys to figure out the best course of action in getting custody of a child who I couldn’t even prove was mine. However, the other part, where I’d gotten to know Elisabeth again and then convinced her to marry me again, had been worth every minute of coming back to mountains of work at the office.
Less than two seconds after walking into my office, I made the decision that I needed to hire someone to help me run things.
I’d worked a lot since starting Leblanc Industries, but now that I had Elisabeth back, I had no interest in spending eighteen hours a day away from her. It was time I started living again, and what better way than with the woman I loved at my side.
“Thanks, Shelly,” I said, dismissing her and moving toward an only slightly smaller version of the Alps made out of unopened boxes and envelopes.
Twenty minutes later, I was still searching for a more-than-likely-shit offer from Wells when my hand landed on a padded envelope with no return address. I flipped it over to check the back, but besides my address and a postmark from nine days ago, it was completely blank.
Curious, I ripped the top off, slid the contents out, and then stopped breathing.
My entire body turned to granite when I realized what I was holding.
Two plastic baggies filled with four Q-tips each.
Another filled with curly, blond hairs.
Another with darker-blond locks.
And, finally, a toothbrush.
I frantically tore the two pieces of folded paper open.
One was a generic consent to DNA testing that had to have been printed off the Internet, but the only thing that mattered was that it had Tessa’s name at the top and it had been signed by Clare Noir.
The second paper caused a heavy weight to sink in my stomach.
Hand-written on an otherwise blank piece of paper was a note that said:
Roman,
You were right. I should have gotten in the car. Unfortunately, you were wrong too. There’s nothing that can be done to help me anymore, but I’m begging you to use this DNA and do what I can’t.
Save Tessa. Get her as far away from Walt as you can, even if that means away from me too.
I wasn’t sure exactly what you’d need, so I swabbed each of our mouths with the Q-tips. The toothbrush is Walt’s.
All I ask is that, one day, when I’m gone, you’ll remind her how much I loved her.
Please hurry.
-Clare
I felt like someone had kicked me in the stomach even as my mind celebrated the breakthrough.
That woman was handing me a child she loved.
My child.
Elisabeth’s child
Clare’s child.
Despite the fact that it meant losing her.