Page 32 of Tiny Precious Secrets (The Brothers of Calloway Creek The Montanas #4)

Asher

It’s been a long, long day. It’s nine thirty, and Rich, Arjun and I are just finishing up dinner in the hotel restaurant.

Rich lifts his drink. “To earning our paychecks today. Nice job, gentlemen. Today we stopped the bleeding, tomorrow will just be cleanup.”

Arjun and I tap our glasses against his.

“We make a great team,” Arjun says.

Rich nods. “That we do. And it was a damn stroke of luck that you were close enough to get here quickly, Asher. We saved their asses today.”

Rich lives in San Diego and Arjun lives in Omaha.

Both of them arrived this afternoon, but with me able to get here by nine fifteen this morning, we may have saved the company millions of dollars in the data breach.

And as such, they’ve contracted our services going forward in what I assume will be akin to a windfall for Rich.

I grip his shoulder. “Should we be expecting bonuses? I am about to close on a four-thousand-square-foot home, you know.”

He laughs. He knows he’s got talent with Arjun and me, and he’s always been one to share the wealth. “As long as I’m invited to the housewarming party.”

Rich pays our tab, all of us eager to get to bed after an arduous day.

Walking through the bar on the way to the hotel lobby, I’m shocked when I see a familiar face.

“You go on ahead,” I say. “I’ll see you both in the morning.”

They leave, and I’m standing here not quite believing what I’m seeing. I walk over to the bar. “Stella?”

I’m not exactly sure why I didn’t keep on walking. Did I stop just to give her a well-overdue piece of my mind?

She looks up at me with sad eyes that turn as big as dinner plates. “Asher! Oh my god.”

She pulls me in for a hug like I’m her long-lost friend, not her ex whom she abandoned without warning, leaving me and my eight-year-old daughter stunned and heartbroken. I don’t wrap my arms around her.

“Still pissed?” she asks, releasing me.

“Seriously? Stella, you left me with little more than a note to expect to hear from your lawyer about divorcing me.”

At least she has the decency to look guilty. “You know how that last miscarriage wrecked me, Asher. I just couldn’t do it anymore.”

It’s a day I’ll never forget as long as I live.

We’d been through four of them previously.

We’d done eight rounds of IVF. Each day, she’d wake up and smile because we’d gotten one day further than the others.

She was nine weeks along. Both of us were beginning to get excited.

In just a few more weeks, we could’ve started to relax.

But then she’d climbed out of bed, gasping at the bright-red stain on the sheets. She’d gripped her stomach and ran to the bathroom, where she sat on the toilet, screaming and crying through cramps. What she did next is burned into my memory for all eternity.

She kneeled on the floor in front of the toilet and fished out all the tissue and blood clots, sifting through it on the tiled bathroom floor, looking for anything that could be the baby.

It was the most heartbreaking, yet terrifying thing I’d ever witnessed.

She was insane with grief, searching for our baby among the remains.

I’d pulled her away, refusing to let her continue. She hit me, called me names, cursed me as I gathered her into my arms and took her back to our bed.

I called Marti to come watch Bug and took Stella to the hospital.

After it was all over and we came back home, she slept for three days straight.

On the fourth day, when I came home from picking Bug up from school, all of Stella’s stuff was gone and there was a note on the counter telling me she was done. She wanted a divorce.

This is the first time I’ve seen her since that morning.

“I know how devastated you were. I was too. I just think I deserved more than a Dear John letter.” I laugh disingenuously.

“Hell, even a Dear John letter would have been better. What you left me was cruel. A fucking memo that you were leaving.” I release a devastating gush of air.

“And what you did to my daughter… that was the most unforgivable thing of all.”

She lowers her eyes to the bar top. “How is she?”

“She’s thirteen. How do you think she is?”

She motions to the seat next to her. “Sit.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Please, Asher? I mean, what are the odds we’d be at the same place at the same time like this? Maybe this was meant to happen.”

“I’m with someone, Stella.”

She flashes me her left hand. “Me too. I married Jeffrey two years ago. I’m not looking for a hookup, if that’s what you think. You’re obviously not with someone this very second. So stay, just for a few minutes.”

“What are you looking for, Stella?”

She shrugs. “Closure? Come on, for old times?”

My chest heaves with a rush of air. I should be sleeping after the day I’ve had. But maybe she’s right. Maybe a bit of closure on that chapter in our lives would be nice.

“Bourbon on the rocks,” I say to the bartender as I take a seat. “So, what are you doing here?”

“I live in Albany now. I’m in town for my dad’s funeral.”

“Gerry died? Damn, I’m sorry. But where’s your husband?”

“Flying in from London. His plane lands early tomorrow. He was visiting his son.”

I raise a brow. “You married another single father?”

She nods.

“Do you… have any kids?” I ask hesitantly.

She shakes her head sadly then asks, “Do you? I mean other than Darla?”

I shake my head, because technically, I don’t. Not yet. And as much as I dislike the woman, I did love her once. I don’t need to be rubbing it in her face that I’m about to have two more while she still has none.

“What brings you to New York City?” she asks.

“Work. I’m only here for the night.”

“Long way to go for just one night.”

“Not such a long way now. I live just outside the city.”

Her jaw drops. “You said you’d never move out of Florida. You loved it there.”

I shrug. “Found something I loved more.”

Her face softens. “She must be really special.”

“She is.”

She traces the rim of her wine glass. “Are you going to try for any kids?”

“I’m not sure that’s something I want to talk about, Stella.”

A tear comes to her eye. “With my dad dying, it kind of puts everything into perspective—how fragile life is, and how important family is.” She looks away.

“Jeffrey and I have tried for years, almost since the moment we got together. I thought maybe with another guy things would be different. But I haven’t even been able to conceive.

Turns out the doctors were right all along. It was all me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Late last year, we decided to try adoption.”

“Sounds like a great idea.”

Her head shakes. “We can’t get approved.

Jeffery has a history of drug use. He used to steal cars to support his habit, so he also has a criminal record.

It’s why his ex left him. He’s fine now.

He’s been sober for years, even re-established a relationship with his son.

But that doesn’t matter to the people who need to approve our application. ”

“That’s got to be tough.”

She swallows what remains of her wine and raises her hand for a refill. “Tough doesn’t begin to cover it. I love him, I really do. More than anything.” She takes a long drink. “But I can’t go through life without having a child.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I have a decision to make. I either have to leave the man I love and adopt as a single mom, or go through life never experiencing what it’s like to have a child.”

I want to refute that fact and tell her she did have a child.

A stepchild who loved her and bonded with her and who called her Mom .

One she could have raised with me into adulthood.

One she permanently fucked up when she left without so much as a hug goodbye.

But I don’t say any of that. I don’t say it, because she’s clearly broken.

At this point, her grief may be more about her father’s passing, but whatever it is, she’s torn up inside and beginning to cry.

I put my hand on her arm. “Stella, I’m so, so sorry.”

A throat clears behind us and I turn around to see Allie. I rip my hand away from Stella, utterly surprised to see her here. “I, uh… hey.” But Allie’s stare remains where it was, on Stella’s arm.

She steps forward and gets in Stella’s personal space, jutting her hand out like she wants Stella to shake it. “And you must be Rich,” Allie asserts with venom in her words. “Or maybe Arjun.” She glares at me. “I guess I’ll just go. I can see how hard you’re working.”

Confused, Stella looks at Allie’s pregnant belly and says, “Um, I’m Stella.”

Allie’s face falls into devastation. “Stella?” Her eyes dart between Stella’s and mine. Then she turns and walks out.

“Allie!” I call. I point at the bar. “Stella, I have to go. I’m sorry. Please stay here and don’t follow me.”

“That’s your girl? And she’s… pregnant?”

“Yeah. Gotta go. I wish you all the best. And my condolences about your dad.”

I rush out into the hotel lobby, looking left and right, but Allie’s not here.

The doorman points outside. “Miss Montana just left, sir.”

Oh, Jesus. I rip the door open before he can do it for me, and I run after her.