Chance - Deborah Bladon Page 0,59

amniocentesis because of her drug use." He shakes his head as he rests his elbows on his knees. "I wouldn't have cared if there was anything wrong with him. I would have taken care of him."

The emotion in his voice is all the proof anyone would need of how desperately Asher loved that baby. "I know you would have."

He nods as his eyes lock on mine. "All of those tests came back fine. He's a healthy baby."

I smile even though I'm caught in a circle of confusion. "What happened to the baby, Asher?"

"My attorney wanted me to request paternity testing." He shrugs his shoulder. "I asked Karen and she refused so we got a court order."

"The baby isn't…"

"He's not," he interrupts me. "I got the call that morning that the results were in so I went to pick them up and that's what it said. There's zero chance I'm the father."

"I'm sorry." I say unsure of what I can add that will offer anything in the form of comfort. "I'm really sorry."

He looks at me with both brows raised. "That news changed my life, Bell. It made me realize how much I want to be a dad."

It's the silver lining he needs to find to make the situation feel okay. I get that. He used to do it when we were in college too and he'd failed a class or bomb a test. The positive is what always pulls him through.

"I came to your office the morning after I was arrested to tell you." He slides his fingers against the glass of the window. "I couldn't do it. I couldn't say the words out loud."

"I'm glad you told me now."

"Me too," he says roughly. "You deserve to know what pushed me to run."

I clasp my hands together in my lap, wanting to reach out to embrace him but knowing that he needs to find his own strength within. "How are you feeling now?"

I'm going back to therapy. I'm working on my music too." He taps his fingers on the arm of the chair. "I need to grow up. I want to be a good husband and father one day. That's my goal. If I can have that, I'll have everything."

Chapter 42

"You look beautiful, Rowan."

I don't want to turn around. It's the first time I've heard his voice since I left the house in the Hamptons. I've tried to busy myself with work but it's been useless.

I hear my office door close and I know that he's standing in the small space with me. I smooth my hands over the navy skirt that I'm wearing. I'd gotten up extra early today and had headed to a yoga class to try and work off some of the unbearable tension I feel throughout my body. I had hoped that it would offer me an escape from the emotional abyss I've been floating in. When I was done there, I felt just as tied up in knots as I had before so I'd hit the gym. By the time I'd taken my body to its limits, I had only a few minutes to ready myself for work. I'd showered quickly before I ran a comb through my hair and pulled on the skirt and a light blue short sleeved sweater. I look like I feel inside; tousled and weary.

"Caleb," I whisper his name as I pivot on my heel to face him. "Why are you here?"

He's sharply dressed in a dark grey suit. His hair is combed, his face shaved. He looks as though he just spent a week at a spa enjoying tropical drinks and long massages. "I wanted to talk."

Of course he did. He decided to show his face again when he'd gathered up the emotional strength to finally look me in the eye.

"How have you been?" he asks hoarsely.

I stare at him. It's a question you ask someone you spot on the street that you haven't seen in years. It's a generic greeting meant to fill in the empty space between two people who have nothing left to say to one another. It's not the words a man says to a woman after he's claimed her body and brought her more pleasure than she can absorb.

"How have I been? I repeat back with my brow furrowed. "How have I been?"

He rakes his hand through his hair. "Bell, please. I fucked up. I really fucked up."

"Do you know how I've felt?" My hand trembles as I reach for my chest. "Do you