Page 114 of One More Heartbeat
“You have any pictures of her?”
“Of course.” I remove my phone from my pants pocket and scroll to the photo I took last week of her playing with her peas.
Jake studies the picture. “Damn, she’s quite the cutie. Any photos of your wife or girlfriend?” Respectful of my privacy, he doesn’t flip through the photos to check for himself.
“Nope. Her mother died a few months ago.”
“Sorry for your loss.” He passes the phone to Paul as the rest of the group echo his condolences.
“Thanks. It’s not public info—about me being a father—so if you could keep it to yourselves, I’d appreciate it.”
The men all nod.
Paul looks at the photo, and a fleeting look of recognition crosses his face. I brush it off as nothing more than my imagination. It’s hardly likelyhe’s seen her before. He’s confusing her for someone else. He’s from Baton Rouge, Louisiana, and not from North Carolina.
“Who’s looking after your daughter while you’re here?” He passes the phone to the next person.
“Her nanny and my parents.”
Technically, for now, it’s just Athena and Mom. But once Peony is no longer scared of my father, he’ll be happy to jump in and spend time with her. To take her places. To show her how to fish. To be the grandfather I know he’s eager to be—even if he hasn’t been as vocal about it as Mom.
The phone makes its way back to me, and I sneak a quick glance at Peony’s grinning face. Then I go to the folder with one of my favorite photos of Zara.
It’s not the photo of her in a black bikini, with gold paint smeared on her body, but this photo is equally hot.
She’s standing in the lake, her purple and gold one-piece showing off her curves.
I’m not a great photographer, not even close to one, but somehow I capturedthisphoto, with the sun hitting her from behind, the angle just right. Her skin glows like that of a bejeweled goddess. Like a water nymph sparkling in the rays of the setting sun.
It’s the photo no one knows about.
“Is that Zara?” The surprised, murmured voice comes from next to me. Kellan.
I shove my phone into my pocket, putting a halt to that conversation. I can’t let my brother know I have…I have what for her? Sexy feelings? Deep, caring feelings beyond our friendship?
I shake my head. All I know is I can’t wait to see her again.
The following Thursday,I place the Advanced Reader Copy ofUnfallenon my desk. I add a map of New York City and a leather journal to the setup and shoot a couple of photos for social media. Themidmorning sunlight through the window gives the pictures the perfect, mysterious vibe.
Next, I record a video, but this time I’m holding the book open and I smile for the camera. “The Advanced Reader Copies ofUnfallenare now in reviewers’ hands. Just three more months and four days till the book is out in the world. Can’t wait for you to read this gripping thriller. What are you looking forward to seeing in the book? Comment below…” I point down and tap on the Stop button.
I create several posts, upload them to my socials, and head to the kitchen for a glass of water. Peony and Athena are playing with the wooden blocks on the coffee table in the living room. Poppy is sitting next to the small tower.
I wave at Peony. She waves back and flashes me a toothy grin, then chats animatedly to Poppy.
Athena pushes to her feet and walks to the kitchen, her expression solemn. “Peony’s sick. Maybe you should cancel her therapy appointment.”
I walk over to the coffee table and crouch next to Peony. “Hey, little flower. Athena said you might be sick.”
Her grin returning, Peony straightens and throws herself at me. Her arms go around my waist, and I return her hug. I might be new to parenting, but she seems fine to me. She doesn’t even have a hint of a cold.
I place the back of my hand on her forehead. She doesn’t feel hot. “She seems fine. And I have no intention of canceling the appointment.” It would be different if Peony really was ill—ill beyond a mild cold. “Jada Biles is highly recognized for her work with young kids who’ve experienced trauma.”
Displeasure presses Athena’s lips into a flat line, but she doesn’t say anything more on the topic. Her glare says it all.
“We’ll leave around one thirty,” I remind her. “I’m assuming you’re still coming.” From the way she’s trying to get me to change my mind, though, maybe it would be better if Athena stays home.
Why the hell is she so against Peony seeing a therapist?
