Would it have made a difference if I’d known I would be released well before my sentence was supposed to end? I was an inmate for five years before the cops realized their mistake. Before the DA realized I’d been wronged. Even if I hadn’t signed the papers that gave away my rights to Amelia, how would she have felt once I was set free?
I’m a stranger to her. She wouldn’t see me as her mother.
I would be the woman who disrupted her happy life.
The tears I kept in check earlier now slick my cheeks. I swipe at them. Maybe Amelia would be better off if I stay away, if I pretend she never existed, if I let my heart be ripped in two.
Troy takes my hand and leads me into the living room. The room has changed so much since I moved into the house. Now, it’s like a modern-day fairy-tale cottage, warm and airy and cozy.
He walks to the cabinet with the record player built inside it, pulls out an old Billie Holiday vinyl, and puts it on the turnstile. “I’ll Be Seeing You” plays through the speaker, the sound slightly tinny.
Troy puts one hand on my waist. His other hand takes my hand. He leads me around the living room, twirling and dipping me in time to the old-time ballad. I laugh, unable to believe just how sweet and amazing and perfect he is. Perfect like Grandpa was for Granny.
His smile is the same one my grandfather always had for Granny whenever they danced together in the kitchen, the love they felt for each other undeniable.
Something in my heart stirs, an emotion I’ve been in denial of for a while now. An emotion that fills me with warmth, that sets my heart rapidly beating, that makes me feel like I’m soaring among the stars when I’m with him.
I’m in love with Troy.
I’m in love with the man who knows how to make me smile. The man who has done so much to help bring the smile back to my face.
But as much as my heart wants to share that with Troy and everyone who’ll listen, my brain knows better.
I might be in love with Troy, but I’m not ready to admit it to him or anyone. Yet.
I need time. Need time to get used to it.
Need time after everything I’ve been through.
Need time while I still try to find myself.
22
JESSICA
August, Present Day
Maple Ridge
Friday afternoon,I’m sitting in the reception area of Troy’s sparsely decorated but very masculine company office, filling in the order form for the screws and nails Troy requested. Bailey snores softly by my feet. The flowers in the vase Troy left on the coffee table Wednesday morning are still fresh and beautiful and remind me that he loves me.
God, how different my life would have been if Anne hadn’t offered her great-aunt’s house for me to stay in while I recovered from my past. For one, I wouldn’t have a boyfriend—a sweet and loving boyfriend.
The phone rings, and I answer it, my smile directed at the flowers.
“Carson Construction. How may I help you?” My fingers are poised over the keyboard, ready to type a message for Troy if needed.
No one responds, but the deep even breaths of the other person come loud and clear through the phone line.
“Hello?” My voice is a little louder this time in case they haven’t realized I’ve answered the phone.
Still nothing but breathing.
“Can I help you?” Impatience weaves through my tone but is held in check with the need to be polite. It might not be a crank call.
Again, I’m only met by deep even breaths. Whatever. I hang up. It’s probably some bored teens who randomly dialed this number.
I complete the hardware order, power off the computer, and head out for the day. “I just have to get a few things from the grocery store first,” I tell Bailey as we walk to the front entrance of the building where my bike and trailer are locked up. “And then we can go home.”
