“Take it from someone who’s been down that road and has deep regrets. Even if Easton doesn’t want a relationship with his children, you can’t keep this secret from them like I did from Mark. They have a right to know when they’re old enough.”

“Even if he doesn’t care?”

“Absolutely. For all the reasons we did those DNA tests. People need to know where they came from and about their genetics. It’s important.”

More so to her than to me, but I couldn’t discount my children might also want to know and had that right. “I guess I’ll fly home and wait to hear from him.”

“Stay a few more days. Give him a little time.”

That was the last thing I wanted to do. I preferred slinking off in the inky black Seattle night with the hope he’d forget all about me as he had the last seven years. And to think I’d once believed I loved him.

Even worse, seeing him again had dredged up feelings best buried. Easton and I still had chemistry, but he’d broken my heart once, and he wouldn’t get a second chance, even if he wanted one—which I was damn sure he didn’t.

Fran and I spoke for a few more minutes about the kids and ended the call. I placed the phone on the nightstand and leaned back against the bed. I closed my eyes, but all I saw was the shock on Easton’s face when I told him he was a father.

My cell chirped, signaling a text message.

With shaking hands, I picked up my cell phone. Only a few people had my new number, and Easton was one of those few.

Meet me at Lake Union Park at eight a.m. near the Seattle ferry dock.

My throat was dry, and I swallowed hard. With trembling fingers, I texted him back.

OK.

That was it. He didn’t respond. I stared at the phone as if the device held all the answers.

~~Easton~~

I arrived a half hour early at the park. I sat down at a picnic table and immediately regretted it. My efforts to look casual were now thwarted by a wet ass from a soaked picnic bench thanks to a recent shower. With a sigh, I ignored the big spot on the back of my jeans and stayed seated. The last thing I wanted was for Caro to pick up on how anxious I was.

I wiped my palms on my thighs and took a gulp from the water bottle I’d brought along. I wished I’d brought a flask of whiskey, but it was too early to drink, even for me.

I had a child, and I was both dying and dreading to learn the details.

A car pulled into the parking lot several yards away. It was a nondescript silver sedan, a typical rental car. Through the tinted glass, Caro’s face was barely visible. She hadn’t seen me yet. She gripped the steering wheel and stared straight ahead for several seconds. I half expected her to start the engine and back out of the spot, but she didn’t. The Caro I remembered had more guts than that.