Page 63 of No Ordinary Love

"You think Hugh knows?"

"I doubt it. He'd have gotten Mercer married to his daughter, shotgun and all."

"Sounds like a clusterfuck." I leaned back into the couch. Kath had made a mess out of her life and saw me as her way out. "I thought she left me because he was more successful."

"Of course she did."

I chuckled. "Thanks for telling me."

"I just…I've been seeing you these past months since you and Amara broke up, and you don't look well, Lucas." Gene seemed to be quiet for a long moment. "Look, it's none of my business, but when you announced that you and Kath were together at that university thing, I felt like maybe you should know in case you didn't know what went down between her and Mercer. I wasn't sure if you did or did not know. I thought maybe Kath would have told you."

"I didn't announce shit. Kath did."

"Yeah, but it felt like youbothdid."

No wonder Amara wanted to kick my balls into my throat. "She ambushed me."

"If that's the case, I think you may have grounds to get rid of her for inappropriate behavior," Gene informed me. "We can also give her a generous severance if you wish her gone."

"It may come to that." Gene was a good lawyer and friend and smart as hell because he could read the tea leaves just fine.

"I'll make sure we're covered legally."

"Thanks, Gene."

I hung up and stared at my phone. This was not how I wanted to live my life. I wanted the life I had with Amara back—the peaceful, comfortable one—the one I had mockingly thought wasn'tall-consumingenough. I wanted love and affection. I wanted ease. I wanted to have babies and a family…with Amara.

Chapter 23

Amara

The Women's Advocacy Network's office was nestled in one of Charleston's stately historic homes, just off Meeting Street. The exterior was everything you'd expect from a city steeped in history—white columns, tall windows with dark shutters, and an expansive wraparound porch lined with lush ferns and rocking chairs that creaked softly in the breeze. But as soon as I stepped through the front door, it was clear that the interior was where old-world charm ended and modern purpose began.

The foyer was a blend of polished hardwood floors and bright, airy spaces. The walls were adorned with local art and black-and-white photographs capturing moments of activism and change, all framed in sleek, minimalist designs that contrasted beautifully with the home's original architecture.

I was greeted by a receptionist who directed me down a hallway to the office of the head of the Advocacy Network, JillTrotter. Her office was at the end of the hallway, and as I reached it, the door was slightly ajar. I knocked gently, and a voice from inside called out, "Come on in!"

I stepped inside to find Jill standing by a large bay window overlooking a lush courtyard garden, checking her phone. She was an elegant woman in her mid-forties, with warm brown skin, short-cropped hair, and an air of quiet authority that immediately put me at ease. She wore a crisp white blouse and tailored pants, her look completed by a simple string of pearls.

She set her phone down and came close to me, holding out her hand. "Amara," she greeted me with a smile that reached her eyes. Her accent was southern but with a touch of Yankee from years spent studying or working in larger cities out East.

We shook hands, and she gestured to a chair. "I'm so glad you could join us. Please, make yourself comfortable."

"Thank you, Ms. Trotter," I replied, settling into one of the comfortable chairs across from her desk.

"Call me Jill," she said, waving off the formality as she settled into her seat behind the desk. It was a beautiful piece—an antique, lovingly restored, with wood polished to a deep, warm glow. Papers were neatly stacked in one corner, and a sleek laptop sat open in front of her. She closed it and pushed it aside, giving me her full attention.

"I've beensolooking forward to meeting you," she continued. "I've heard wonderful things about your work, and I'm thrilled you're going to be part of our project."

"Likewise. You've done some great work in South Carolina with WIC. And with regards to this project, I'm honored to be involved." I was high on excitement. "It sounds like an incredible opportunity to make a real difference."

"We believe it is," Jill agreed, her expression serious now. "We've been discussing the Women's Health and Nutrition Initiative for a year since we started our advocacy non-profit. We've seen far too many disparities in maternal health, particularly in marginalized communities, and it's time we addressed them head-on. Your expertise in health communication will be crucial in helping us reach the women who need this information the most in a way that's accessible and actionable."

I nodded, feeling a deep sense of purpose. "I'm ready to do whatever I can to help."

"Good." Jill leaned back slightly in her chair. "I'm confident that you'll assemble a strong team for this project. Today, you'll meet some of the key players, including our sponsors. It's important that you understand the scope of what we're trying to accomplish, as well as the resources we have at our disposal."

"Who are the sponsors?" I asked, trying to keep my tone neutral, though my curiosity was piqued.

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