tedious meetings. It was how he felt at the end of the day walking into his house and seeing her there, filling his home with her warmth, her laughter and her perfume. It was the fantastic, mind-blowing sex that always left him aching for more, and it was that indescribable feeling like she was in his corner, utterly and absolutely on his side. He’d started off not trusting her because she was a Harper, but now he trusted her because she was Tate, a fascinating and unique product of her Harper past.
Linc sucked in a deep breath as the realization rolled in that, while he might be in love, she might not be feeling the same. Tate had set objectives for her life, and love and a partnership—in whatever form that took—wasn’t something she was looking for. So many people had disappointed her; the people who were supposed to love her best never had, and as a result, she had enormous trust issues. Tate wouldn’t easily believe that he was in it for the long haul, that he was prepared to love her and Ellie, for the rest of his life.
He knew that she felt something for him—so he’d just have to take it slow, get her used to the idea that she was exactly where she was meant to be.
And they’d have to find a way to work around her need to be independent, her career. He wanted her to have it all; he didn’t want her to sacrifice a damn thing for him. It was the twenty-first century; if he could be both a dad and businessman, then Tate could have her career and be a mother and a wife.
Linc rolled his head on his shoulders, trying to ease some of the tension in the cords of his neck. Dr. Mitchell looked at each of them, and then leaned back in her chair, her expression gentle and sad.
“Ms. Harper, I regret to tell you that your sister passed away early this morning. I am so very sorry.”
Linc closed his eyes as sorrow seeped into him. Yeah, Kari drove him nuts but she had given him an amazing son. Kari, rest easy.
Linc clenched his hands around the arm of his chair before placing his arm around Tate’s very stiff shoulders. He looked at her and tried to gauge her reaction. To Linc it looked like she’d shrunk in on herself; she looked smaller and frailer. But it was her expression that scared him or, more accurately, it was her lack of expression.
For the first time, he couldn’t discern any emotion in her eyes. There was no sadness, no anger, no regret. Linc turned in his chair and forced his fingers through hers, and he grew concerned when she didn’t respond. She’d retreated to a place where he couldn’t reach her, Linc suddenly realized. This was the same place she’d said she retreated to during her childhood, when the pressure and pain of living with her mother and sister became too much. The same place she went to when her father disappointed her time and time again.
Tate was on her island and he couldn’t get to her...
“I have tried to contact you, but your phone has been going straight to messages for the last six hours.”
“I was at a function and didn’t think to turn it back on,” Tate told her tonelessly.
Dr. Mitchell cleared her throat, and Linc looked at her, his eyebrows raised. “Kari deteriorated quickly when she got here. It was almost as if she stopped fighting.”
“I have to organize her funeral,” Tate said, staring straight ahead.
“Kari left explicit instructions. She didn’t want a funeral and her body is already on its way to a home to be cremated.”
She made arrangements for her funeral but not for her kids? Linc shook his head. “Her ashes?” Tate asked in a monotone voice.
“She ordered the funeral home to dispose of them,” Dr. Mitchell replied, staring down at the folder she’d opened on her desk. “She did, however, leave a will.”
“A will? Kari?” Linc asked, unable to keep the skepticism from his voice.
Dr. Mitchell nodded. “It’s part of the admission process. We insist that our patients sort out their affairs.”
Linc frowned as a thought suddenly occurred to him. “How did she pay you? The Kari we know—knew—didn’t have the cash to pay for a private facility.”
“We do take pro bono cases. Kari was one of those.”
Hearing that, Linc immediately decided that he’d leave a check to cover Kari’s expenses. She was, after all, the mother of his child.
Dr. Mitchell looked at Tate. “Kari wanted me to explain her wishes, but if you’d prefer to deal with a lawyer, then you can.”
Tate’s eyes had yet to leave the doctor’s face. “No, you can tell me,” she said, her voice even but still devoid of emotion.
“Before she died, Kari did make arrangements to have Ellie adopted. In fact, she worked with an adoption agency and preapproved a couple for Ellie to go to.”
Ellie wasn’t going anywhere! She was Tate’s. And his. He couldn’t lose his two girls.
“Kari wanted to give you the option of adopting Ellie, as well. Essentially, the paperwork at the adoption agency has been completed. It just needs either your signature or the Goldbergs’ signatures, and Ellie has a new family.”
“Did...” Tate cleared her throat. “Did Kari indicate where she’d prefer Ellie to go?”
Dr. Mitchell shook her head. “She said either of the options was fine. Essentially, she left the choice up to you.”
“I see...” Tate softly replied and Linc released a sharp breath, desperate to know what was going through Tate’s mind right now.
Oh, Tate, come back. Feel angry, feel sad. Please, don’t shut down, and, God, don’t shut me out.
“Everything you need to proceed is in the folder, Tate.” Dr. Mitchell closed the folder and handed it to Tate, who took it with a rock-steady hand. “I am very sorry for your loss.”
Linc placed his hand under Tate’s elbow and felt her jerk her arm away. He frowned at her profile, set in stone, and felt her sliding away.
He silently cursed, hot, heavy words that gave him no relief. He would fight as hard as he could, for her, for them, for the family they were in the process of building, but if she chose to run, there would be little he could do about it. Running away was, after all, what she always did when life became complicated or people demanded more than what she wanted to give.
It would be interesting to see how he coped with the tsunami of pain that was bound to follow her departure.
* * *
Hi Tate!
Just to let you know that we’d love to have you host our new, US-based travel show. It’s a show developed for your unique delivery style and personality and we’re excited to work closely with you on this project. Details and the contract to follow and let me know when we can meet.
Tate read the email again and tossed her phone onto the bed and shoved two hands into her messy hair. She’d been back in The Den for two days, and she felt as if she was operating on fresh air and emotion. Her sister, the person she’d both loved and hated, was dead.
Her daughter was now Tate’s responsibility.
She was in love with Kari’s
