Page 25

CHAPTER 25

KEVIN

As I stroll past reception into my office, I call out harshly, “Miss Burns! I need to see you in my office.”

Everyone sitting in the space freezes at my tone, and I’m happy they’re on edge. Today is not the day to fuck with me.

Since seeing Miriam, I’ve been ruminating over the lack of emails, and I’ve determined is absolutely was Sandra who tried to gatekeep her messages from me. I knew something was up when I went into my deleted emails and found every single one of them. Nothing goes in there unless someone physically selects the email to remove from my inbox.

Even if Miriam’s emails went to my junk mail, they would still have to be removed intentionally to the trash. Sandra didn’t take the extra step to empty it permanently, and she’s due for a rude awakening. Hearing her scramble from behind her desk, her hurried, clicking heels hot on my trail, I’m ready to lay into her.

As soon as she arrives, she breathes out, “You wanted to see me, Captain Cooper?”

“Sit,” I snap out, pointing at the chair in front of my desk.

She rushes to obey, and drops into the uncomfortable seat, uneasy by my change in demeanor. “Sir, what?—”

“I’m going to ask you some questions and I need you to give me your honest answers, or you’ll be escorted out of here within the hour. Do you understand?”

Sandra gulps and nods quickly. “Yes, sir.”

“Have you been monitoring my emails?”

Her brows furrow in confusion. “Of course. I always flag the priorities, so you know what needs to be addressed immediately.”

“Do you ever delete them?”

This time, she hesitates, and my blood boils when she lies to me. “No, not that I can remember.”

Leaning back in my chair, I fold my hands together over my stomach and sway slowly from side to side, locking my gaze on her face until she looks away. I’ve spent countless years interviewing people, and I know how to get the answers I want and when someone’s demeanor is telling me they’re lying.

Sandra is absolutely lying to me.

“Interesting. So you’ve never deleted an email out of my inbox? Particularly within the last three months?” I ask her, giving her one more chance to come clean.

This time, she fumbles over her answer. “I mean, if I had, it wasn’t intentional. Maybe something that looked like one of those spam emails. Sir, did I?—”

Cutting her off, I ask another question to throw her off. “When people call for me, what is your normal procedure for taking those calls?”

Again, she’s unsure, so she recites the procedure they’re all trained to follow. “If you’re available, I place them on hold and use the intercom to alert you of the call. If you’re not, I take a message and leave it on your desk.”

“Always?”

She’s wringing her fingers together in her lap. “Y-yes, sir.”

“That’s interesting,” I say, leaning forward and rolling my chair closer to my desk. I cross my arms and keep my stare fixed on her. “Do you know a woman by the name of Miriam Delgado?”

I know the moment I ask my question, she knows where this conversation is heading. “Sir,” she pleads. “I thought?—”

Losing my patience, I snap at her. “You thought wrong . The audacity you have to delete every single one of her emails, along with keeping her messages from me when she called in, is inexcusable. What were you thinking, Sandra?”

I’m furious with her and ready to fire her on the spot. Her mouth is opening and closing, attempting to come up with her defense, and I grow tired of waiting.

“Answer me now! Do you have any idea the damage you could have caused?” My voice is growing louder, and I’m sure my employees can hear me outside. Rarely do I ever raise my voice, but her actions were personal to me.

“Ca-Captain, I’m so, so s-sorry! I thought I was helping!” she sobs, already losing herself to her emotions. It doesn’t move me in the slightest.

“ How? How in the world could you have possibly thought you were helping? In what world would keeping something that personal from me be helping me? And I know you had to have read every single one of them, so you know exactly why she was trying to get in touch with me. “

Sandra is full on crying now, unable to answer me. I don’t give a fuck. She does her best to explain, but I can barely understand. Her point comes across, though.

“I-I thought she was s-s-scamming you. She was so r-r-rude, and I didn’t w-want that for you!”

I’m sure Miriam was rude after leaving multiple messages without a response. “I’m sure she was, but I don’t care. It wasn’t your decision to make. Now, while I one hundred percent have grounds to fire you, I’m not planning to right now because you don’t have anything else damaging on your record. Rest assured, this incident is absolutely going in your file and I’ll be reporting it to HR as soon as you walk out of here. Tread lightly, Miss Burns. Do not cross me again or you’ll be out on your ass faster than you realize. Get your shit and leave today. You can come back tomorrow once you’ve composed yourself.”

She scrambles from her chair and rushes for the door. Just before she leaves, I call out, “And Miss Burns?”

With teary eyes, she turns to me with a hopeful look. I have no problems crushing them under my heel. “I’m not a stupid man and I’m aware you have an infatuation with me.” My chin lower while I glare at her. “Get rid of it. I’m not interested.”

Her lower lip trembles before she rushes from my office. I listen as murmured voices ask her what she did and what happened, but she says nothing. I imagine she won’t tell a soul, but I always follow through on my promises.

Picking up the phone as soon as she flees her workspace, I call HR and file a grievance. After finishing with them, I spend the rest of my day focused on clearing tasks from my desk until it’s well after six in the evening.

I’ve carried the information packets from Miriam’s appointment with me since the day we went, and I pull the nutrition guide out, setting it on my desk to read over. Saying fuck it, I fold the paper in half and shove it in my pocket. Gathering my things, I leave the station and drive over to the grocery store immediately.

I have this antsy feeling inside of me that just won’t go away. Providing the foods she needs to help with her blood pressure has been riding me hard, so I’m going to take a risk and go shopping.

It’s not long before I’m standing in front of her apartment door, knocking with one hand while holding half a dozen grocery bags in the other. The door is whipped open only a few breaths later, then Miriam is standing before me, wide-eyed, hair wild, and… green?

She slaps her hand over her mouth, then rushes away, leaving me standing in her doorway. Walking inside, I set the bags on the ground just before I hear her heaving and gagging on the far side of her apartment.

“Fuck,” I mutter, then rush to the bathroom, where I find her on her knees in front of the toilet. “Christ, Miri. Are you okay?” I ask, quickly settling behind her and gathering her hair so it’s out of her way.

I feel like an ass asking her questions because obviously she can’t answer. She jerks violently and vomits into the toilet over and over again. Tears gather in the corners of her eyes and I feel just awful for her.

Rubbing her back, I murmur comforting words as she continues to be ill, getting rid of every last ounce of food she ate today. She’s crying between bouts of throwing up, but I keep a constant commentary that it’s okay, that she’s okay.

Finally, after what seems like an hour, she sits back on her heels and sucks in a hitched breath. “Sorry.” Her voice is raspy, and I want to curl her into my lap to comfort her.

“There’s nothing for you to be sorry about. Are you sick, or is this pregnancy related?”

“Fucking baby…” Her words trail off and she lays her head on her arm resting on the toilet seat.

Standing, I dig through her cupboard until I find a washcloth. Wetting it, I dab her forehead, then place it in her hand so she can wipe her mouth. “What can I do for you right now?”

“Water,” she croaks out, then gags, but thankfully, doesn’t throw up again.

Hurrying to the kitchen, I find ice in her freezer, then fill up a tall glass and bring it to her. She swallows it down quickly, then asks me to leave so she can brush her teeth and put herself back together.

I wait patiently in the hallway until she walks out. Eyeing me warily, she seems embarrassed, but pushes past it. “Why are you here?”

“I brought?—”

A knocking on the door cuts me off and we both look toward the entrance. “ Dios mio ,” she mutters, then rushes to the door. I follow behind her and note that she doesn’t check to see who it’s first before whipping the door open. “Cristián. What are you doing here?”

Analyzing the situation quickly, I stop myself from becoming protective when I notice the similar features between Miriam and the man standing in front of her.

“I’m sorry, hermana . I was worried you wouldn’t be here. Why aren’t you in class?”

Letting him inside, she says, “My class was cancelled. Emergency for my professor. What the hell, Cristián? It’s like a three-hour bus ride over here. What the hell is going on?”

He only notices me briefly before flying into an explanation, completely in Spanish, as he waves his arms around. Miriam’s frown grows deeper the longer he speaks. After putting the food I bought into her refrigerator, I finally interrupt them.

“Miriam. What’s going on?”

Both of them look at me as if they forgot I was here. Her brother is checking me over as if I’m a threat, but says nothing. She elbows him, then explains. “One of my brothers stole money from him and there was a huge blow out at home. He got pissed and came here to cool down.” Then to Cristián, she adds, “Which would have been nice to know ahead of time. Showing up unannounced is stupid. What if I wasn’t here?”

“I’d have waited until you were. Who’s the guy?” he asks. Then widens his eyes and focuses on his sister. “Is he the father of your baby?”

She hisses at him, but I decide to step forward. “I’m Kevin Cooper. I assume you’re her brother?”

Warily, he shakes my hand, then asks her another question in Spanish.

“Don’t be rude, Cristián.” Miriam shuts him down immediately, then turns to me. “Sorry, I—” Pausing, she takes a deep breath. “Why are you here, Kevin?”

Cristián is standing to our side, watching as we interact, and I want to tell him to get lost for a few minutes. Instead, I bite my tongue. “I was thinking about what the doctor said about food and decided to run to the store to make sure you had everything you need. I apologize for not calling ahead of time, but it felt important.”

She studies me, then asks, “You drove two hours to bring me groceries?” Cristián whistles in surprise, making Miriam turn to him. “Get the fuck out of here for a few minutes. Go into the other room or something.”

He listens, but it’s obvious he’s not thrilled about being kicked out.

“We don’t have to go over why I’m here right now. Would you let me help you for a bit, then I’ll get out of your hair.”

Looking away, I can tell the moment she resigns herself. “I’ve no idea what to say right now. Exhaustion is making me cranky and I just want to get some sleep. I need to make up a bed for him, but that’s all that needs doing tonight.”

“Let me help you,” I plead.

Nodding jerkily, she turns away, then heads to her linen closet, pulling out bedsheets and a comforter. I take them from her and head toward the spare room Cristián is hiding away in. Shoving them in his hands, I say, “Make up your bed. She needs some sleep.”

He opens his mouth to argue or question me, but I’m not sure which because I turn away and focus on her. “Let me get you settled and I’ll leave. Did you eat tonight?”

With a huff, she glares at me like I’m an idiot. “Yes. You saw me throw it all up.”

“Noted. I’m going to get you something to drink and some crackers. I was hoping to talk with you a bit more tonight, but I’ll hold off since your brother is here.”

“Kevin,” she calls out as I walk away to get the food. I pause and turn to her. “You didn’t need to come out here for this.”

“I know, but I wanted to.”

I leave her standing in the living room and listen as she shuffles off to her room. Setting the glass of water and crackers on her side table, I sit on the edge of her bed once she crawls under her covers.

“Does this happen a lot?” I ask, noting her sunken eyes and tired features. I reach out to brush a strand of hair from her face and am shocked when she lets me.

Settling into her bed, she curls an arm under her head to face me. “Sometimes. I never know when morning sickness will creep up. But it’s been happening less the further along I get. It’s been a few days since I’ve gotten sick like that.”

“I know I said I’ll go, but if you want me to stay, I will.”

She glances at the clock on her side table, noting the time. “It’s late.”

“It is.”

“You saw where I got the sheets?” She blinks slowly, already fading.

I smile gently, brushing her hair again, just to have an excuse to touch her. “I did.”

Her speech is slowing, but she manages to get out, “You can make up the couch, if you’d like.”

Then she falls asleep. I touch her again, using just my index finger to move every piece of hair from her face. Leaning forward, I press my lips to her forehead and whisper. “See you in the morning, Miriam.”

Leaving her to sleep, I find another set of sheets and blanket, then make up the couch, all while ignoring her brother in the spare room as he moves around, probably doing the same as me. She and I can talk in the morning.