Wrong Question, Right Answer (The Bourbon Street Boys #3) - Elle Casey Page 0,100

a drug I want to overdose on. My mind goes into overdrive as I think of my options. How do I find closure for taking the life of a man who claimed to love me? It doesn’t take me long to reach the conclusion that there really is only one way to get this done: if I could just get someone who loves Charlie to forgive me, someone who was important to him, I could start to forgive myself. And therein lies the path to closure, the elusive elixir that I’m convinced will make healing possible.

I run down a mental list of his relatives and fixate on the most logical one. Of course. It’s so obvious now. My hand slides down to my belly, and a tiny little poke comes from inside me. I smile as I realize one of my babies is talking to me.

This is good. This is right. It’s crazy and nuts, yes, but it’s the only way I know of to make things right for my future. And I’ve never shied away from crazy and nuts before. I can do this. Besides, I have more than just myself to think of now; I have the babies and maybe Lucky, too, if he wants to stick around and move our relationship on to the next level. I owe them this effort. My whole body goes warm at the idea of starting over with an almost clean slate.

“Lucky?”

“Yeah.”

“One of the babies is kicking.”

His hand slides around and rests on my belly. I place my fingers over his, trying to predict the next spot where a kick will appear. It’s there again. A little flutter.

“Did you feel that?” I ask.

“Oh my god. I think I did. It felt like a little bubble.”

“Well, it’s either gas or a baby.”

“That is so cool,” he whispers against my neck. “You’re a mommy.”

“Yep. And you’re a daddy.”

I feel certain of what I need to do now. I need to talk to Charlie’s mother. I need to apologize for what I did to her son, to her family, and to her. She was there in the courtroom when I was convicted. She has it in her mind to hate me until she takes her very last breath, but maybe if I talk to her, mother to mother, she’ll find something in her heart that will allow her to at least hear my apology. That could be enough.

Hope makes my heart soar.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

I’m happy with the way things are progressing at home with Lucky and at work with all of my teammates. I never thought I would enjoy a routine, but this one feels comfortable. Each night, Lucky and I have dinner together and then either play cards or a board game, and then we go upstairs to my room together. So far, it’s been only PG-rated cuddling going on in the bed, but I have other plans for us.

He’s been letting me call the shots, and normally I wouldn’t shy away from having sex at the drop of a hat, but I find my attitude about things like that changing. I still like sex, of course, but it means more to me now. I’ve been waiting to figure out what Lucky and I actually are to one another before complicating it with a more intimate relationship. Lucky’s not just some guy I met at a bar or an old childhood flame looking for a roll in the hay; he’s the father of my children and the guy I live with, the guy I play board games with and tease about having a crazy-ass beard that doesn’t even come close to making him ugly. The next time we have sex, it’s going to be very different than the last time; we’re going to be making love. I’m not sure I’ve ever done that before. Not even with Charlie.

“Will you go shopping with me this afternoon?”

May’s question startles me out of my reverie. She’s looking over at me from the neighboring cubicle. The two of us joke now that we’re the cubical crew . . . cube crew for short. Ozzie has given us the power to decide for ourselves whether we want to go out into the field or stay in to do the tamer stuff, and we’ve both volunteered for cubicle duty. Morning sickness aside, it just seems safer and smarter. Whenever I think about working in the field with May, I picture Marc the gangbanger reaching into his waistband for his weapon; then