She couldn't look at the rest of the room. Knew she'd never find the strength to leave if she allowed herself to touch Ashley's things, to smell the fresh little-girl smells. Without a backward glance, she left the room for the last time.

Ashley was alone at school that day—Kayla being home sick with a sore throat—and due to be picked up from school in an hour. She had to be gone by then.

In the kitchen she saw the buns and chips on the

TARA TAYLOR QUINN

counter, purchased for the picnic they were to have had on Mother's Day. It was fitting, really, that she wouldn't be celebrating it with Ashley and Kyle. She'd made Mother's Day a symbol for something—someone—that didn't exist. She'd been trying to convince herself that being the best mother she could possibly be had wiped out the sins of her past. That simply by virtue of the fact that she was Ashley's mother, some of Ashley's goodness, her purity, became Jamie's own. But it didn't matter how much she tried or how much she pretended; the woman who'd sold her body to the highest bidder time and time again had been right there with them all along. That woman, the person she'd been, had dibs on Jamie's life.

But she didn't have to ruin Ashley's life. Or Kyle's. And she told him so, very briefly, in the note she left. She also told them both how very much she loved them.

The last thing Jamie did before she walked out of her house for good was pick up the phone to make three calls. One to Ashley's school to let them know her father would be collecting her. And no, she didn't need to speak to the child herself.

She'd never have lived through that conversation.

The second call was to Kyle, asking him to please pick up Ashley, since she had an important errand to do before their weekend together. He was as agreeable as she'd known he would be. She hung up without telling him goodbye. She couldn't do that, either.

The third call she'd planned to make was to

HER SECRET, HIS CHILD

Karen. But in the end, she couldn't do it. As much as she needed her friend's loving reassurances, she couldn't risk the chance that Karen might talk her out of going. Because she knew that was what Karen would try to do. Knew, too, that Karen would probably succeed.

Then, slinging her purse over her shoulder and grabbing the bag, her vision blurred by the tears streaming down her face, she let herself out. Locked the door behind her. And didn't look back.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Kyle wasn't surprised to find the house locked when he arrived home with Ashley shortly after noon on Friday. Jamie was gone—running her mysterious errand. Ashley couldn't wait to find out what her mother was up to, sure that she had a special treat for Mommy's Day. Kyle had to admit he was a bit curious himself.

Ashley ran off to her room as he opened the front door with the key Jamie had given him weeks before. Kyle wandered into the kitchen to get them both a cool drink and some cookies to last them until Jamie arrived home to have lunch with them.

Seeing the note on the counter, Kyle picked it up and was frowning over the first line when Ashley came darting into the kitchen carrying an expensive-looking camera.

"Mommy's camera's in my room!" The little girl was excited. "Can I take pictures?"

Kyle was getting a really sick feeling in his stomach. "Not now, sweetie," he said, reaching for the camera before the child dropped it.

"Maybe when Mommy's home?" his daughter asked, her little brow furrowed. Her long auburn

HER SECRET, HIS CHILD

hair, so like her mother's, was falling out of its po-nytail.

"Maybe then," Kyle agreed. The note in his hand was burning his fingers.

"Okay." Ashley tore out of the room, apparently in search of more excitement than her father was capable of giving her at the moment.

With his back to the doorway, Kyle returned his attention to the note in his hand. He read it again, sure he'd missed something.

It said exactly the same thing the second time.

Kyle, I love you and Ashley too much to stay around any longer. Nelson Monroe is hack. Wants me back.

Kyle glanced up from the paper, feeling dizzy and sick. Wasn't this exactly what he'd been afraid of? That his adult life would take on the same tones as his childhood if he lived with a woman like Jamie?

His gaze darting around her kitchen, settling nowhere, Kyle could feel Jamie there. In the cleanliness, the organization. In the wildflowers on the windowsill. The

refrigerator covered with family goals, positive mottoes, reminders of promises and obligations. Ashley's drawings.

Tags: Tara Taylor Quinn Billionaire Romance
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