Chapter Two
Problem Unsolved
Siena, May 26, 2011, Washington, D.C.
I removed my nursingbra and stood in front of the mirror, surveying my new curves. The last fifteen pounds clung to me despite my banishment of junk food and daily runs with the stroller. But Ryan loved my mommy body, and had his flight not been delayed twice, he’d have been home for at least two hours to appreciate it.
Yawning widely, I donned a slinky ivory negligee and headed to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face and brush my hair. Skin still damp, I stepped back into the silence of my bedroom. Through the narrow window, the waning crescent had reached its zenith and shone like a bright sickle above the earth. Its light filtered in and caressed the little white bassinet at the side of my bed.
My chest flooded with warmth. The most beautiful baby in the world slept in it, his dimpled arms resting alongside his sweet head, tight fists just touching chubby cheeks. Austin Patrick Casey was born almost four months ago with a shock of blond curls and a pair of cornflower-blue eyes. My mother-in-law, Peggy, had assured me his hair would eventually darken to Ryan’s dirty blond and eyes would turn either his hazel or my brown before his first birthday. But even platinum-blond and blue-eyed, Austin was the spitting image of his father.
I checked the clock, stifling a yawn—ten minutes until arrival, then half-an-hour drive from the airport. Austin’s incessant teething had made for a rough night, and I should have napped while he did, but I’d run out of time.
Suppressing another yawn, I sat on the bed and eyed my cool plump pillow. Only a quick nap.
I woke with a start—Austin wasn’t in his bassinet.
The room swayed. The walls rushed toward me.
Cold all over, I bolted to the door. Tripped on something.
The living room—empty. Guinness was gone, too. Heartbeat thundering in my ears, I dashed back to the bedroom, tripping again—over Ryan’s travel bag.
I grabbed my phone with a trembling hand. The screen lit up with four text messages and one missed call.
Just landed.
Austin ate all his baby cereal.
Walking Guinness.
Austin is with me.
The last message was sent at 6:44 AM. I stared at the clock: 7:18 AM. Holy crap. Guinness’ exuberant barking and Ryan’s hands pulling me in and traveling the length of my body weren’t a dream.
Breath slowing, I pressed a hand to my breasts and winced. They’d gone up at least a size and were hard as a rock. Austin had never slept through the night before.
Five minutes later, the excited German Shepherd burst in, followed by my husband with a baby carrier attached to his torso. An indignant, piercing voice punctuated tiny flailing arms and legs.
My heart melted at the sight. Everything I loved most in the world had walked through that door.
“I tried to keep him out, so you could sleep.” Ryan shrugged, a bit flustered. “But he needs you, Sie.”
I needed the baby, too. So while Ryan was taking him out of the carrier, I settled in the nursing chair at the foot of the bed—only to discover the absence of my nursing bra. I let the negligee fall to my waist as Ryan turned around with Austin in his arms.
“Holy shit.” He approached, eyes wide. “Can’t you give him something to tide him over?”
“It’s breakfast time.” I took the baby and brought one heavy breast to the hungry little mouth. “He wouldn’t want anything else, anyway.”
“Can’t say I blame him,” muttered my husband, planting himself on the bed to face me.
We sat in silence, Ryan watching me nurse and Austin stroking my face with his soft, little fingers as he suckled. I settled my foot on the edge between Ryan’s legs.
Before I could blink, he brought it to his mouth. “So hot—”
I snatched it away like it had caught on fire. “Seriously, you have a problem!”
Given some of our less than orthodox carryings-on, I considered myself open-minded. But a baby on my breast and anything sexual was like oil and water.
Ryan caught hold of my foot again and pressed it into his erection. “I do have a problem.”
Lips pursed, I moved the baby to the other side. “Half-way through.”
He leaned back and propped himself up on his elbows in the silence that fell, his steady gaze tracing the shape of my body.
Our eyes locked as Austin finished nursing.
“I’ll take care of him.” Ryan stood, his body rigid as a board. “Don’t move, love.”
I chewed on my lip as he changed Austin’s diaper and set him up with toys in the bassinet. This big, tough man—so heartbreakingly sweet and gentle with our tiny baby. It was almost indecent how quickly motherhood receded into the back of my consciousness.
Moments later, he emerged from the bathroom shirtless, wiping his hands on the sides of his jeans. Then, he was carrying me to our bed, the negligee slipping off and falling to the floor.
“God, I missed you,” he murmured into my hair, gathering me in amidst disarranged pillows, blanket, and coverlet. “We can just cuddle...if you need a break?”
I pulled him closer: light deodorant, a trace of laundry detergent, and him. His need was a hard and pressing thing, ricocheting into my every corner.
“You might break if we just cuddle,” I breathed.
Ryan’s problem solved, he kissed the top of my head and drew me into his arms. “When are you starting, love?”
I’d finished three of the four projects I’d committed to prior to learning about Ryan’s transfer to Dallas. All that remained was a three-wall mural at senator Connor Reat’s private residence, scheduled to start seven months ago. But he kept moving the date, which had worked out well with Austin’s birth. It was now bordering on absurd, however.
“The meeting is in three weeks.” I compressed my lips. “They sounded pretty firm.”
Ryan raked his hair. “So, three weeks plus what—three-four months of work? I’ll start looking for a nice, large house to rent in two months. The Sham will take a while.”
I frowned. The Sham, an uber high-profile case that required Ryan to join a special task force couldn’t have come at a worse time. It also took up all his time. After reaching dramatic heights, a Dallas-based Fortune 500 company had experienced a financial collapse and declared bankruptcy, causing gargantuan losses to both investors and employees. That raised red flags large enough not only for the FBI, but also for the IRS, the SEC, and the DOJ to join forces to investigate. And Ryan was in the middle of it all, leading thousands of searches and interviews.
“Don’t look yet.” I bit the inside of my lip. “In case he moves the date again.”
Ryan plopped down on his back, glowering at the ceiling. “I hate this guy. It’s like he’s keeping you from me.”
I shivered with a weird hint of a déjà vu, buried my nose in Ryan’s hard shoulder to cut it short. He smelled like home. “A few more months, and we’ll be together. I promise, baby.”
He stroked my hair, his hand a little uncertain. “I’m done with my last case here, Sie.”
I raised my head, unblinking.
“I won’t be able to get away as much—maybe on the weekends.” He rubbed his forehead. “Definitely on the weekends.”
A strange, inexplicable darkness spread deep inside me, thick and heavy.
“I’ll fly to Dallas,” I said, pushing it down. “Austin can travel, right?”
He blew out a long breath. “Do you think...you can cancel? He’s moved the date so much, the contract is null.”
The darkness dissipated. Yes, it was technically null, but we needed all the money we could get. Besides, this could be my last project in who knew how long. When would I start working again in Texas?
“There’s a lot of money there, baby.” I winced. “It’s only another few months. We’ll make it work.”
Ryan smoothed an errant strand from my face. “I figured you might start flying, so I made a copy of my apartment key for you. It’s on the dresser.”
Twelve hours later, we stood embraced in front of our condo complex in the falling evening. Dark clouds crept across the thin crescent, the wind picking up before the rain.
“Safe flight,” I whispered into his chest. “Text me when you land.”
“I might fly back in a week or so.” He pulled me in tight into his warm, solid body. Another moment, and he’d be gone. “Did I tell you I have a new partner? Could make it easier to get away for the weekend.”
It started to drizzle as the taxi drove away. I gnawed on the inside of my lip. Each of Ryan’s visits was like a tiny iceberg in the endless sea of loneliness, spaced farther apart every time. And his tentative promise to come back in a week meant he wouldn’t. It meant he was buried knee-deep, and I may never see him again unless I flew to Dallas myself.
A strange fiery butterfly hovered near the door when I headed inside. It didn’t fly away when I approached but alighted on the wet flowerbed of yellow hyacinths and sat there with wings thrust apart, as if glaring at me.
Don’t butterflies hide from the rain? I shrugged and went inside.
“This is the senator’s last chance,” I muttered before closing my eyes at night, vainly trying to push away the approaching vision. “He moves the meeting again, and I’m done.”