“I can’t do this. It’s impossible. What was she thinking? She had to know better.”
“Pia?”
Her visitor rose. She turned to tell him that rescheduling was probably a good idea when the room began to spin. It turned and turned, darkening on the edges.
The next thing she knew, she was in her chair, bent over at the waist, her head between her knees with something pressing down on the back of her neck.
“This is uncomfortable,” she said.
“Keep breathing.”
“Easier said than done. Let go.”
“A couple more breaths.”
The pressure on the back of her neck lessened. Slowly, she straightened and blinked.
Raoul Moreno was crouched next to her, his dark eyes cloudy with concern. She took another breath and realized he smelled really good. Clean, but with a hint of something else.
“You all right?” he asked.
“What happened?”
“You started to faint.” Raoul met her gaze as her eyes widened, and, despite the bigger things crowding her thoughts, she couldn’t miss the zing of interest.
She blinked, and shook her head. “I don’t faint. I never faint. I—” Her memory returned. “Oh, crap.” She covered her face with her hands. “I’m so not ready to be a mother.”
Raoul moved with a speed that was a credit to his physical conditioning and nearly comical at the same time.
“Man trouble?” he asked cautiously from a safer few inches away.
“What?” She lowered her hands. “No. I’m not pregnant. That would require sex. Or not. Actually it wouldn’t, would it? This is so not happening.”
“Okay.” He sounded nervous. “Should I call a doctor?”
“No, but you can go if you want. I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
Now it was her turn to raise her eyebrows. “Are you commenting on my appearance?”
He grinned. “I wouldn’t dare.”
“That sounded almost critical.”
“You know what I meant.”
She did. “I’m okay. I’ve had a bit of a shock. A friend of mine died recently. She was married to a guy in the army. Before he was shipped off to Iraq, they decided to do in vitro, just in case something happened to him. So she could have his kids.”
“Sad, but it makes sense.”
She nodded. “He was killed a couple of years ago. She took it really hard, but after a while, she decided she would have the babies. At least a part of him would live on, right?”
Pia rose and paced the length of the office. Moving seemed to help. She took a couple of cautious breaths, to make sure she was going to stay conscious. Fainting? Impossible. Yet the world really had started to blur.
She forced herself back to the topic at hand.
“She went to the doctor for a routine physical,” she continued. “They discovered she had lymphoma. And not the good kind.”
“There’s a good kind?”
She shrugged. “There’s a kind that can usually be cured. She didn’t have that one. And then she was gone. I have her cat. I thought I’d be keeping him. We have a relationship. Sort of. It’s hard to tell with a cat.”
“They keep to themselves.”
There was something about the way he spoke. She glared at him. “Are you making fun of me?”
“No.”
She saw the corner of his mouth twitch. “Don’t mess with me,” she told him. “Or I’ll talk about my feelings.”
“Anything but that.”
She returned to her desk and sank into the chair. “She didn’t leave me the cat. She left me the embryos. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what she was thinking. Babies. God—anyone but me. And I can’t ignore it. Them. That’s what the attorney hinted at. That I could let it go for a while because the ‘fees’ are paid for three years.” She looked at him. “I guess that’s the frozen part. Maybe I should go see them.”
“They’re embryos. What’s there to see?”
“I don’t know. Something. Can’t they put them under a microscope? Maybe if I saw them, I would understand.” She stared at him as if he had the answer. “Why did she think I could raise her children?”
“I’m sorry, Pia. I don’t know.”
He looked uncomfortable. His gaze lingered on the door. Reality returned and with it, a sense of embarrassment.
“I’m so sorry,” she murmured, standing. “We’ll reschedule. I’ll compose myself and be much better next time. Let me look over my calendar and give you a call.”
He reached for the door handle, then paused. “Are you sure you’re going to be all right?”
No, she wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure of anything. But that wasn’t Raoul’s problem.
She forced a smile. “I’m great. Seriously, you should go. I’m going to call a couple of girlfriends and let them talk me down.”
“Okay.” He hesitated. “You have my number?”
“Uh-huh.” She wasn’t sure if she did, but she was determined to let him escape while she still had a shred of dignity. “The next time you see me, I’ll be professionalism personified. I swear.”
“Thanks. You take care.”
“Bye.”
He left.
When the door closed, she sank back into her chair. After lowering her arms to the desk, she rested her head on them and did her best to keep breathing.
Crystal had left her the embryos. There were only two questions that mattered. Why, and what the hell was Pia supposed to do now?
RAOUL ARRIVED AT RONAN Elementary shortly before two. He parked in the lot by the playground. No surprise—his was the only Ferrari in the parking lot. He was a guy who liked his toys, so sue him.
Before he could climb out of the car, his cell phone rang. He checked his watch—he had a few minutes before he was due inside—then the phone number on the screen. As he pushed the talk button, he grinned.
“Hey, Coach.”
“Hey, yourself,” Hawk, his former high school football coach, said. “Nicole hasn’t heard from you in a while and I’m calling to find out why.”
Raoul laughed. “I talked to your beautiful wife last week, so I know that’s not why you’re calling.”
“You got me. I’m checking on you. Making sure you’re moving on with your life.”
That was Hawk, Raoul thought with equal parts frustration and appreciation. Cutting right to the heart of what was wrong.
“You had some bad stuff happen,” the older man continued. “Don’t wallow.”
“I’m not wallowing. I’m busy.”
“You’re in your head too much. I know you. Find a cause. Get personally involved in your new town. It’ll distract you. You can’t change what happened.”
Raoul’s good humor faded. Hawk was right about that. The past couldn’t be undone. Those who were gone stayed gone. No amount of bargaining, no sum of money, made it better.
“I