Secret Triplets(37)

 

Regarding me with a cautious smile, he gestured to the sleeping bag behind me.

 

“I’m sorry there’s nowhere to sit, but do you want to…”

 

I clasped his hand and smiled myself.

 

“It’s fine.”

 

He led me over there, folded the sleeping bag on itself so it was thicker, and then helped me sit down.

 

“I’ll turn on the oven,” he said once I’d been safely seated on the thing, which was actually comfy. “It’s not much, but it’s warm. I don’t normally… Well, you can probably see for yourself.”

 

And I could. My first scan of the shack, while it had taken all of three seconds, had pretty much covered the place and what it contained. There was the green tartan sleeping bag I was now sitting on, an old-style oven Brock was turning on, and not much else. A huge body of a backpack slumped against the wall suggested where his latest art was being kept, but that was it.

 

“I can’t believe it,” Brock said once the oven was on, coming over to sit beside me, his gaze glued to my belly.

 

“So, what you’re saying is…that it’s mine.”

 

I shook my head and put his hand on my belly.

 

“No, Brock. They are yours.”

 

Now tears were coming to his eyes, and his hand flinched back.

 

“Wow,” he murmured. “One of them kicked.”

 

“One of the daughters or the son,” I said, and his dopey grin widened.

 

“A dad. I’m going to be a dad. Two girls and a boy.”

 

This his gaze lifted to mine, and his face darkened.

 

“Before you say anything more,” I said, “please let me explain. Let me tell you how sorry I am for everything that happened. I never meant to betray you. This all started out as a job to get evidence on you; I’m a private investigator who was in desperate need of money. I got in too deep, and after I told Snow, I planned on warning you. But he went after you too fast, drove there right after we met and took me along to boot. I didn’t have a chance to tell you.”

 

Brock nodded, the lines on his forehead softening.

 

“And...that night…”

 

I grasped his hand.

 

“For me it was real, every bit of it. I wasn’t putting on an act to get information out of you. I genuinely think you’re the most incredible, kind, good man….” My voice faltered, and I shook my head. “I understand if you don’t want to see me anymore, or if you only want a partial part in your children’s lives; we hardly know each other after all.”

 

I let his hand go, and he grabbed both of mine.

 

“Alexa, before you say anything more, hear me out. We may hardly know each other, but I, for one, know enough already. I know the remarkable woman I encountered that night, the funny, interesting, one-of-a-kind wonder only a fool would let go of. And we may have skipped all the building-up relationship stuff most couples go through before having children, but I want to make a go of it. I want to make a go of you, us, our children, our family. I want to be with you, Alexa. I’m going to build a new life for us. That life of crime, it was over when you met me, and it’s still over now. For good.”

 

I paused and looked at him, really looked at him. Every part of Brock matched what he had said: his eyes were intent, his jaw set. He had to be telling the truth, and yet hadn’t Charlie looked the same way every time he had promised to change—so sure of himself? Didn’t people look like they were telling the truth when they were so good at lying that they even lied to themselves? What was the difference from then to now, Charlie to Brock? How did I know that he was telling the truth, that my feeling that it was different with him, that he really would follow through, was right?

 

The answer came with his clasping of my hands. It was different because I knew it was, because Brock hadn’t let me down yet. The only way I would know for sure if I could trust him was to do just that, trust him.

 

So, I let Brock draw me closer and closer until our lips entwined and worry fell away and everything was made right again.

 

When we finally drew apart, my head hung with a rueful smile, I admitted: “My name is actually Alex.”

 

Brock laughed and kissed me on the cheek.

 

“Anything else I should know?”

 

I flopped back so I was resting against the wall and laughed myself.

 

“Oh God, where to begin? I’ve already bought a ton of baby furniture and compiled a short list of baby names for each child. My favorite color is orange, and I have a mildly bad addiction to sugar—but you know that one. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that night, even before I knew you were the father of my children.”