Page 26 of The Secrets We Share

“No shit? I can’t imagine dealing with two of you.”

“We’re nothing alike.”

“They’re very different,” Harkin and I both spit out at the same time.

“Okay, then. Twins would be easier to pinpoint at a hospital. Maybe I can get her real information and do more digging with that? Do you know where you were born?”

“Not at a hospital. I don’t even know if our births were registered.”

“How’s that possible? You have a social security number.”

“Yeah, sweetness. How’s that possible?” Harkin asks, knowing damn well my papers aren’t exactly legal.

“That’s an even longer story. But let’s just say the number I have now is thanks to someone else.”

“Jesus, woman, how much shit were you keeping from me?”

“More than I’d like to admit or get into right now. I just thought that with your work, you might have a little more insight or some contacts who might know more about the families. Considering my dad’s Italian and my mom’s Irish, I hoped that’d help narrow some stuff down.”

“Okay. It’s a start.” She nods. “I’ll see what I can dig up, but I can’t promise anything.”

“We’re not looking for you to have the answers. Maybe something you find will match up with what we know and reveal something we’ve been overlooking this entire time, you know?”

“Give me a few days, and I’ll get back to you. Based on all of this, I’m assuming your number’s changed?”

Harkin lifts me off his lap to stand. He drops the white card onto her desk and shoves it across the surface with a single finger. “We’ll see how good you really are.” He turns without a word and strides to the front door, not looking back.

“Uhm, I should probably go now,” I say, hiking my thumb over my shoulder. “Thanks, Nik. It was really good to see you after all these years.”

“You too, baby girl. Stay safe,” she says in a whisper, probably trying to avoid the ire of my broody man.

There isn’t a blacked-out SUV waiting for us on the curb like I’d expected. Instead, Harkin leads us down the busy sidewalk with his heavy hand and the base of my spine. He doesn’t look down at me or speak, but I follow his guidance. After a few blocks, we stop in front of a small café.

The place isn’t busy when we step inside, but the smell of freshly ground coffee and pastries invades my system, and my mouth waters. Harkin must be on the same wavelength because he steps up to the counter and orders for us. When we have our food and drinks, he nods to a small table in the way back, near the fire exit.

His sulking only builds the anxiety blossoming in my chest as I wait for him to sit with me on the loveseat and tell me what the plan is. I’d assumed we’d head back to the rental, but he doesn’t seem as quick to get out of the city as I’d imagined. I settle in and let the buttery, soft croissant melt in my mouth. The satisfied moan that tumbles from my lips finally gets Harkin’s attention poised back on me—his eyebrow peaks, and I shrug because it really is that good.

“So, will you tell me what’s going on?”

He scoffs and looks down at his phone, typing away. I feel like I’m being chastised via the silent treatment, and I’m seconds away from lashing out childishly. But when his phone rings, and he lifts it to his ear, his face turns serious as he listens to whoever’s on the other line.

“Send me the pin and then clear it. We need a couple of hours to discuss a few things.” His eyes swing in my direction, and his gaze rakes across my body. The fire in them burns so hot I feel it across my skin.

“Who was that?” I ask when he ends the call and drops his phone in his lap.

“Finish your pastry, and let’s go. We can talk when we get there.”

“Get where, Harkin?”

“Where we’re going,” he says, then shoves the small plate back in my direction to emphasize his last request.

I’m getting nowhere with him. He’s on edge, watching the café as if someone’s going to run in and snatch us up in broad daylight. I polish off the magical croissant and wish I had another.

We take our drinks to go and head out the fire exit. A mix of rotten food, stagnant water, and piss fills the air in the tight alleyway. My stomach revolts, threatening to bring up my snack, but I clamp a hand over my mouth and follow Harkin’s footpathout to fresh air. Something most people wouldn’t think about the sidewalk area of the city. But anything’s better than where we’ve come from.

My irritation only rises as I follow Harkin mindlessly. We make it a few more blocks before he heads down to the subway. He ushers me to sit while he stands guard in front of me. He’s scanning the crowd again, and I’m starting to fear something I don’t know made my trip into the city an even worse decision than being slightly reckless. Whatever it is, I need to know. If something’s happened, he can’t keep it from me.

Secrets we share give zero power to those that necessitated them. It’s the secrets we hide that burden our shoulders to the point that we both suffer, usually in silence. We promised no more secrets once the paternity results were aired out. I intend to hold him to our agreement. I’ll just have to see how creative I’ll need to be to pull them free.

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