A minute was nearly gone. Standing, I made my way into the private bathroom, checked my face, and then told Tucker I needed to go.
“Charlie! Don’t you dare fucking hang up!”
Making my way back over to my desk, I pulled in a deep breath. “I’ll call you back.”
“What? Charlie! Charlie!”
I hit end and set my cell phone face down on my desk.
Breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth, I attempted to calm my racing heart.
Oh God. Tucker has a little girl? He has a child? Did he know?
The room felt as if it spun.
No. If he knew he had a child, he would be a part of her life. This is insane.
My phone buzzed on my desk. Flipping it over, I saw Tucker’s name.
Another deep breath and I set the phone down and hit Marge’s call button. Inside I was freaking the fuck out, but on the outside, I was cool as a cucumber.
“Send them in, Marge.”
A few moments later, the door to my office opened and a beautiful dark-haired woman my age walked in. Glancing behind her, I saw a little girl sitting in one of the chairs. Her eyes met mine for a brief moment before she looked back down at her doll.
I swallowed hard. She looked like she was five or six years old.
As I stood up, I forced myself to breathe and lifted my chin, extending my hand to the woman.
With a heavy heart, I plastered on a smile and forced my voice to remain calm and even, which was a monumental feat.
“Charleston Monroe, you are?”
“Lindsey Cooke.”
My mind went through all the people we knew in college. Did Tucker meet her in college?
Glancing over to Marge, I smiled bigger. “Thank you, Marge. If I need anything, I’ll let you know.”
Marge looked at me and then at the woman in front of me.
“Ms. Cooke, is your daughter okay without you?”
The woman glanced over her shoulder and waved to her little girl. It gave me the opportunity to look at her better. She looked nothing like Tucker.
Nothing.
“She’s fine. Thank you.”
Marge looked at me as if she was waiting for me to agree with the woman. How in the hell was I supposed to know?
With a small shrug, I proceeded to ask Lindsey Cooke to sit down.
“Please, have a seat, won’t you?”
She took a seat, and Marge reluctantly headed out of my office. Giving one more concerned look, I grinned and nodded for her to close the door.
“So, how can I be of assistance to you, Ms. Cooke?”