It was a tall order for anyone, let alone a guy who had no rights in her private life at all.
Over the next couple of weeks, he alternated between searching keywords on the internet and telling himself to stop being a fool and get on with his life.
He called a couple of old friends from high school who’d been younger than him, ones he hadn’t spoken to in years, shared the news of his impending fatherhood, and, when congratulations were done, he’d caught up on their lives and then awkward silences had fallen on the line when he’d asked about a girl who’d gone to high school with them. Nobody remembered Christine.
He saw her three times a week, both of those weeks, including a routine doctor’s visit, and all six times, he came home more determined that he had to find her son. For every pound she gained she grew more vulnerable. More fragile. And more determined than ever that when the baby was born, their lives would return to normal.
And while his would be a brand-new normal, hers would be the normal she knew.
He could touch her stomach. He could even hug her goodbye fairly regularly. But he absolutely could not talk about any kind of future that included her postbirth. There were times when he caught her looking wistfully at her own stomach. When she asked about his house search and worried that he wouldn’t get in in time for the baby to have a nursery. Times when he knew she was hurting. But she played her part without fail.
She’d let him in once. It was clear she wouldn’t do so again.
Christine Elliott was a strong woman. She knew what she knew. Believed what life had taught her. And was true to herself.
He’d never met anyone who really believed, to their core, that they could, and should, go it alone. Nor one who would be so incredibly great at more. So ultimately happy.
How he knew that, he didn’t question.
He just knew that Ryder was the key to helping her find the happiness she deserved. The key to unlocking her heart so that she could let herself be loved. By him or not. At that point, it didn’t even matter who she loved, only that she knew she could. She’d never believe she wasn’t alone when alone was all she knew. All she felt.
He had to find her son.
Desperation had a way of pushing a guy forward even when the order was too tall, it seemed. That was the only reason he could give himself for the fact that three and a half weeks after he’d felt bone-deep burning passion for the first time in his life, Jamie was in Los Angeles, waiting to be shown into the office of a man he’d never met.
Playing scenarios through his mind. Did he introduce himself as the father of the baby his daughter was carrying?
In some scenarios that seemed the most powerful way to go. And in others, it was far too messy. For all he knew her father wasn’t happy about her choice, would resent Jamie, which would make the trip another lost cause.
A hugely disappointing one. He was out of ideas.
“Dr. Howe? Mr. Elliott will see you now.”
The financial manager, dressed impeccably in a gray suit with white shirt and sedate silk tie, stood from behind his desk as Jamie, feeling decidedly underdressed in the brown pants, beige short-sleeved shirt and tie he’d worn to class in Mission Viejo that day, entered the room with a confidence that wilted with every step.
He didn’t let it show, though. He’d learned from the best over the past few months how to be who you had to be, regardless of the personal toll.
“I understand you insisted on speaking with me personally,” Dennis Elliott said. He had graying short hair, but his dark eyes were exactly like his daughter’s. He didn’t hold out a hand. Jamie didn’t offer one. Nor did he sit down. And Jamie followed suit.
“Yes, sir. I...”
“I think I can save us both some time here. While the firm is always happy to take on new clients, my book is completely full. I can, however, give you a personal reference to the broker who’s been with me the longest. I’m happy to show you his portfolio, that which isn’t confidential, to give you an idea of his accomplishments and capabilities.”
Jamie wasn’t the least bit deterred. If anything he’d gained strength with every word the man said. How dare he leave his little girl’s heart to just suffocate and die?
The anger that assailed him came as much of a surprise as had the passion in his SUV weeks ago. And the jitters that had assailed him at his first meeting with Christine more than five months before. Maybe he’d always been a calm man because he’d never loved as fiercely as Christine had loved others all of her life.
“I’m not here to make either of us money,” he said. Dennis Elliott could very well be a wonderful husband and father, a great man, but, standing there, Jamie resented the hell out of the man who’d chosen making money over being there for his daughter. Who’d assuaged his own grief rather than helping his daughter pick up the pieces of her shattered life.
Again and again.
“I’m a...friend...of your daughter’s.” Not rehearsed rhetoric. He had no idea if Elliott would pick up his phone the second Jamie left the room and get his daughter on the phone. If he was, in essence, putting the nails on his own coffin.
He only knew that, even if he was, he had to do it. He had to show Christine that someone would move mountains to try and be there for her.
And with that thought, the way became completely, calmly, clear to him. “In fact, sir, I am in love with her. Completely.”
The man sat. “Christine’s in love?”