Child by Chance

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  He sounded as though he’d already been asked those questions. And probably had been. For the police report.

  She’d promised herself to keep her time with Sherman what it was—a sexual release for both of them.

  After the last time he’d been there, when she’d had the idea that she loved him, she’d promised herself that her heart would not be left open to him again.

  If he visited, they’d have sex, and then part ways with kindness. Period.

  For a critical second she forgot that. And found herself in the kitchen, pouring him a glass of wine. And one for her, too.

  Taking his hand, she led him into the living room, sitting with him on the couch. “Have you talked to anyone?” she asked.

  She was no psychologist. Her classes weren’t doctorate level. But she knew enough to know that the unanswered questions created by suicide were hell on those left behind.

  “No,” he said. “You’re the first person I’ve told. I have no idea what to say to Kent, but I’m fairly certain that telling him his mother chose to die isn’t a good idea right now.”

  “Talk to Sara, she’ll be able to help you. And Dr. Jordon, too, because he knows Kent’s history.”

  He nodded. And in that moment it wasn’t Kent she was worried about.

  “You blame yourself?”

  Staring out into the living room, Sherman sipped his wine.

  “I think suicide is a personal choice,” he said finally. “No one can make you do it. It’s your reaction to dealing with life’s challenges.”

  A generic response if she ever heard one.

  “They say people commit suicide when life’s pain is greater than their ability to cope with it.”

  “I was reading this afternoon...” He paused again. Took another sip of wine. “I should have been working. We’re having a seafood fund-raiser tomorrow afternoon down at the pier, but...it said that suicide is the direct result of an overwhelming sense of hopelessness.”

  She couldn’t imagine the horribleness he had to be going through. And couldn’t help her heart from hurting for him, either.

  “I have no idea why she’d have felt so hopeless,” he added.

  “Obviously she didn’t want you to know. She did a great job of hiding whatever was going on with her.”

  She wasn’t a therapist. Had no business passing judgment or theory on this matter. No, she was just a woman whose heart was driving her to help this man feel better.

  “I feel responsible...” He broke off. Shook his head. And stood.

  Talia followed him out to the kitchen where he set his half-empty wineglass on the counter.

  His gaze met hers. Held it. For too long. Talia needed to fold him into her arms, lay his head on her breast and let him stay there until morning. She needed to chase his demons away.

  “Thank you.” He touched her face with his thumb.

  And was gone.

  * * *

  TALIA CALLED HIM the next day while he was at the fund-raiser on the pier. Sherman had just left Kent at a table with Cole Vanderpohl and the teenage daughter of Sadie Bishop, their country auditor. He was on his way to give last-minute speech suggestions to his brand-new senate candidate when his belt started to vibrate, signaling an incoming call.

  He recognized her number immediately and, keeping Kent in sight, stepped far enough away from the private party to snag some privacy.

  “I’ve been thinking about you.”

  His dick rose up to say hello.

  About to tell her that now wasn’t a good time, but struggling to find the words, he forced his mind to think thoughts that left his body unengaged.

  “I’m on lunch break and just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

  She was still the only who knew about Brooke.

  And Sherman was ashamed for his immediate assumption that her call had been of a sexual nature.

  The assumption had come from his constant hunger for her.

  “I’m fine,” he told her when what he’d wanted was to use the sounding board she offered. He’d been up most of the night reliving more than a decade of memories of his life with Brooke and needed a female perspective.

  From a female he trusted.

  From Talia.

  “If you need to talk...”

  It was as though she was reading his mind. And that didn’t surprise him.

  “Can I call you later?”

  “Yes. I’m off at six.”

  The long night he’d just spent faded a bit farther into the distance.

  * * *

  A COUPLE OF single women Talia worked with, Kelsey Banes and Wendy Marshall, asked her to go out for dinner and to a club with them Saturday after work.

  She’d had lunch with them a time or two. Found things in common with both of them. Missing the camaraderie of feminine companionship—one thing she’d had a lot of backstage in Vegas—she hesitated before declining the invitation. She could always have written her collage reports later.

  Studied in the middle of the night.

  But her pretty, peaceful cottage on the beach called to her. It was all she’d ever wanted—a safe place that felt like home. Still, their invitation gave her another idea. She told them she couldn’t do dinner, but invited them to come out to the ocean the following Saturday. They could ride home with her, spend the night and they could all return to Beverly Hills together in time for work on Sunday. They could have a little fire on the beach. Make salad. And enjoy a bottle of her brother’s wine.

  They accepted, and she was glad. She was building a life, one step at a time.

  And now she had one night filled so she wouldn’t be available to Sherman. Should he happen to stop by. Maybe, as time passed, she’d find more and more ways to fill her nights.

  She was out on the beach when he called. He’d waited until Kent was in bed, which didn’t surprise her. The fact that he’d stayed home didn’t, either. He’d called a sitter the night before.

  She’d built herself a fire that night—not far from her back deck. Sitting out there in cotton pants and a hoodie, she was content.

  He told her he was in his room, sitting up in bed in the dark. Exhaustion from a lack of sleep the night before had led him there. And then he couldn’t sleep.

  “What did you and Kent have for dinner?” she asked, even now interested in every single thing her son did. Every breath he took.

  Interested in keeping his father on the line, as well.

  She was storing memories of the Paulson duo for the years when she would no longer be privy to them.

  “Hot dogs with chili.”

  “At home or out?”

  “On the way home.” He told her about the afternoon function—the seafood samplers they’d munched on, the game of beach volleyball Kent had played with some other kids. “He was the smallest guy out there, but he made a couple of good plays,” he said.

  She wasn’t surprised. Sports were huge in the Paulson household. Before she’d met Kent and Sherman, Talia hadn’t even known if the Lakers were basketball or football. And to her, every golf club looked exactly alike. She’d never been fishing. Or picked up a tennis racket. And didn’t feel particularly deprived.

  But for Kent, she’d spent some time educating herself.

  Sherman talked about the people who’d attended, the pledges they’d received. He talked about speeches and dignitaries and probable vote counts. He talked about a couple of the wives who were assets to their husbands’ political aspirations. And about the kids Kent had hung out with.

  “So it was a family affair,” she summed up, trying to picture the afternoon from a ten-year-old’s perspective.

  Sherman’s response was too long coming. “Yeah.”

  In other words, it was the type of gathering
she would not be welcome to attend with him. Her past was not impeccable enough.

  And she’d bet that most of the others weren’t saints, either. It was just a matter of whose sins came to light.

  Even if Sherman had been willing to take a chance with her, even if she’d been crazy enough to agree to a relationship with him with the secret of his son’s birth forever hidden between them, she wouldn’t be willing to risk his career should her past somehow become disclosed.

  “It’s going to come out,” he said softly.

  “Not if we quit seeing each other.” So they’d had sex a couple of times. In today’s world that wasn’t such a big deal. Even in some of the more conservative societies.

  His pause was overly long again.

  “I was talking about Brooke’s suicide. She was fairly well-known, or at least associated with some well-known names locally. I don’t think I’m going to be able to keep this out of the paper.”

  “How long before the ruling is official?”

  “I don’t know. Could be months.”

  “The accident was two years ago—you really think it will still be news?”

  “Maybe, maybe not. My mind just keeps jumping to different aspects of this thing, you know?”

  “You’ll need to let Kent know before anything comes out.”

  “I’ve got an appointment with Dr. Jordon on Monday. And plan to talk to Sara Monday night.”

  Of course he did. Because he really was a great dad.

  “I just feel so responsible,” he said. “Not like I’m to blame, but like I should have known she was that unhappy. She was my wife and I had no idea...”

  “It’s possible that the fact that you didn’t know was deliberate on her part.”

  “That doesn’t sound like her. Brooke didn’t like to hide things, or allow them to remain hidden. Because secrets prevented resolution.”

  “Maybe she was sick, you know, terminally. Maybe she was trying to spare you and Kent the pain of watching her die slowly.”

  Flames jumped into the night, and Talia watched them, wondering what it would be like to be inside the fire for once. It felt as if her whole life had been lived on the outside looking in.

  “Maybe. But the coroner’s report should have shown that.”

  “Unless he was just determining cause of death and collecting evidence for the accident report.”

  “So what you’re saying is we may never know these answers.”

  Was she? She’d just been talking. Because he’d needed someone to talk to.

  Sherman said he wondered if Brooke had grown tired of being a mother. If she’d felt so trapped by their marriage that she’d no longer wanted to live. And suggested the possibility that the accident had been premeditated by his wife. That she’d made up her mind and had just been waiting for an opportunity to present itself.

  He was all over the board. Spewing thoughts so fast she figured he couldn’t possibly be using his usual filters. He contradicted himself. He said things that didn’t make sense.

  Her flames died down. She stirred them. And if she hadn’t already been in love with Sherman Paulson, she’d have fallen in love with him as she sat there accepting the gift of friendship he was offering her. The gift of trust he’d bestowed upon her that night.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  BOTH SARA AND Dr. Jordon suggested to Sherman that he wait until there was an official ruling before telling Kent about the possibility that his mother had committed suicide. The boy was showing progress, but wasn’t far enough out of the woods that anyone wanted to impede his progress if it wasn’t necessary.

  Sherman was relieved.

  And on Monday night he went home and had a brief conversation with his neighbor. Two minutes later he was whistling as he came back into the house to supervise as his son fixed dinner. Ben was more than happy to watch Kent again the coming weekend—though it would have to be Saturday, not Friday, as he and Sandy had a dinner engagement with one of Ben’s clients. His neighbors made it clear to him that they thought it was about time Sherman started dating.

  No matter how many times he explained that he wasn’t seeing someone, that he didn’t have a girlfriend, they just smiled and looked at each other.

  A little on edge about that, he decided he’d worried enough for a few days, decided not to borrow trouble and whistled all the way through sorting laundry while Kent grilled some cheese sandwiches.

  As soon as Kent was out for the night he climbed into bed and called Talia. He told her about the advice he’d received from Dr. Jordon and Sara first.

  “What if it does hit the news as soon as a ruling is made?” she asked. She’d told him she was sitting at the kitchen table, doing an online assignment for an effective-thinking psychology class, and he pictured her there, braless, in her sleep pants and gray cotton T-shirt.

  “I’ll get at least a few hours’ notice,” he told her, after explaining that he’d already called the detectives to ask. He answered the rest of her questions, and realized just how much he’d missed having someone to share the burden of decision making for the precocious ten-year-old he loved more than life.

  When he knew that he’d kept her from her work long enough, knew she had a full week ahead with very little time to make up slack, he mentioned the weekend ahead. He wanted their time together locked in. Solid. For her as much as for himself.

  “I’m sorry, Sherman, I can’t,” she said, shocking the hell out of him. What did she mean she couldn’t? She worked and she came home. That was her weekend.

  As he sat there, considering his response, he realized something else. He wasn’t just shocked. He was panicked.

  She was calling it quits on him. His response wasn’t negotiable.

  “If you’ve had enough, you need only to say so.” It wasn’t as if there was any permanence to their relationship. Implied or otherwise. He’d still hear about her through Kent.

  Until the summer. Or Kent no longer needed to go. Or she no longer had time to take him.

  “I know that.”

  Of course she did. The woman had him going all directions of crazy. Not anything he’d have believed possible for a thirty-eight-year-old guy with his head firmly on. A guy whose life was dedicated to thinking before he acted.

  “I can’t do Friday,” he told her, so she’d understand the dire straits they were up against. “Ben and Sandy have a business engagement.”

  “I understand.”

  No, she didn’t. Because if she did, right now she’d be telling him that she could get out of whatever she had planned for the next weekend. Unless...

  He relaxed against the pillow. “So, next Saturday, you’ve got something with your family...”

  That family of hers seemed to be the only thing besides work and study that mattered to her. And he’d lost his right to meet them when he’d had sex with her without any intention of dating her.

  “No. I’m...entertaining.”

  If she’d meant to send him skyrocketing without a ship, she’d succeeded. And he had a pretty good idea that was exactly what she’d meant to do. Even if she was having Tatum spend the night, she’d presented it in a way that put him in his place. Because he deserved it.

  And why shouldn’t she entertain? She was staying out there in that seductive little cottage all alone. She’d accepted him and his son into her life while he was refusing to acknowledge her in his own. She’d never be the woman on his arm at a political function.

  Which meant to him that there’d never be a woman there again.

  Who? The question pounded against his brain. Who was she entertaining?

  He had no right to ask.

  Sherman forced himself not to think about the next weekend. He asked about her collage workshops. And heard that she’d helped save a girl from pos
sible future sexual abuse by her stepfather.

  Something he should have already known—if they were as close as he felt they were. He should have been on her speed dial for that one.

  With an aching head, a tired body and an exhausted heart, he knew he was going to have to tell her goodbye. She had homework. He needed to get some rest. He had a busy day ahead and a son to keep ahead of.

  He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t just let the next weekend drop.

  “We need to talk about something,” he said, and then wished he could rephrase his statement. The old “we have to talk” line usually meant “I want to break up.”

  But they weren’t even a couple.

  Talia’s silence wasn’t as demeaning as it might have been considering her usual reticence.

  “I need something.” That was better. He thought.

  “What?”

  “Monogamy.”

  “What are you saying? That our...interlude...is over? You’ve found someone you can both date and have sex with?”

  He cringed. Rubbed his hand over his eyes. He’d deserved that.

  “No,” he told her softly, closer to breaking than he could ever remember being. “I need to know that you aren’t sleeping with anyone else.”

  “Is that what you think of me? That I’d be with you like...well, you know...and then take someone else into my bed?”

  “No.” He’d known this was not the right way to go about this. “I’m scared to death that I’m going to lose you.” The embarrassing childish words poured out of him. “Because I can’t give you as much of me as you deserve to have in your man.”

  Her pause was painful at best.

  “So you’re telling me you want us to be mutually monogamous,” she said. The soft husky note in her voice raised a completely different but equally powerful emotion in him.

  “Kind of like we’re a couple without the dating,” she added.

  It sounded horrible. And glorious.

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Because if I ever find out you so much as kissed another woman you aren’t getting near me again. Ever.”

  That was his Talia. Up-front and out with it when it really mattered.