ward. Millie was a mother. She would better understand, though she’d never lost a child.
Between the pages were ultrasound pictures that tracked the baby’s growth. Her daughter. Then pictures of Bridget, her belly round. And one single picture of the baby after Bridget had given birth to her.
One photo. That was all she had.
I’m sorry. Sasha’s tense expression filled her mind. She’s gone.
Bridget hadn’t even had the chance to name her baby.
She pushed back the covers and headed for the bathroom. Seeing Aiden last night made it worse. Everything had rushed back.
Leaving town. Discovering she was pregnant, and the emotional rollercoaster that had been. She’d loved her baby. Of course, she’d been terrified of what having a child would mean, even to the point of telling Millie and Sasha that she didn’t even want a child. Lord. She’d gotten her wish, hadn’t she?
Bridget took a shower while tears rolled down her face. She hung her head below the spray and worked through the feelings in the way she was taught. Being told she hadn’t manifested the death of her baby through careless words was one thing. Believing it was another.
Maybe she would’ve been a terrible mother, and maybe she wouldn’t have. What did she know? And what did it matter now, anyway? Her life was one she would spend alone, always wondering, “what if.” She worked with clients all over the world. Made sure they were safe enough to live the happy lives they were building. The kind she could never have.
Bridget shut off the water and immediately heard banging. She grabbed a robe and headed for the front door, though not before retrieving her weapon.
She stopped three steps from the door and stood behind the cover of the doorway to the living room. “Who is it?”
“Millie. Open the door.”
Bridget twisted the handle and let her boss in. Millie Cullings was older than Bridget, closer to forty than thirty. A mom of two boys, and the wife of an FBI agent. Her brother was a private investigator in Last Chance County, and his wife was a police detective.
Bridget didn’t need to get on any of their radars, except for Millie’s. That would be okay. Her boss had special training, and Bridget trusted her. Millie—and her brother Tate—had helped her when she’d been broken and bleeding, scared. She would be in their debt for the rest of her life.
“Hey.”
“Go get dressed.”
Bridget grabbed clothes from the bedroom and left the bathroom door ajar so they could still talk.
“Are you okay?”
Bridget slid pants on. Her hair dripped around her shoulders. “Because of the gunshot, getting hit by a car, or running into Aiden?”
“That’s not all that happened yesterday.”
Bridget pulled on a tank top and toed the door open. “What else happened?” She grabbed the towel and started to rub her hair dry.
Millie sat on the edge of the bed. Her attention snagged on the scrapbook.
And then Bridget said, “I’m okay.”
“You only think that because your baseline is survival and a modicum of emotional stability.” She turned back to Bridget with a sigh. “I get the feeling you don’t think you deserve happiness, or at the very least, that you don’t expect a whole lot of good to come your way.”
“Not sure I’ll ever have to worry about an overabundance of happiness.” Bridget couldn’t help the sarcastic tone that showed up in her voice.
“It’s part of life. Eventually you’ll meet someone and fall in love. You’ll have babies. Your heart will be so full you won’t know what to do with yourself.” Millie’s nurturing lectures often came back around to Bridget finding someone to share her life with.
“So I’ll die happily of a heart attack.” Bridget shrugged. “Besides, I’ve already met enough people. Most of them I don’t like. The rest I can tolerate. A few I appreciate.”
She knew she sounded callous. The idea of dying from happiness after finally finding the family she’d always wanted wasn’t something that sat well with her. But she could say it to Millie, because she didn’t believe it would happen.
Millie just stared at her. “We need to get down to business. Eric is at the police station, and I’m supposed to be grocery shopping.”
It wasn’t often they were in the same room, given how much Bridget worked in the field. So she took the opportunity to ask, “Are you ever going to tell your husband you used to be a spy?”
“He knows.” Millie lifted a brow. “Of course he knows. He just doesn’t know that the accountant’s