THE FAMILY THEY CHOSE
NANCY ROBARDS THOMPSON
PRIVATE PARTNERS
GINA WILKINS
THE FAMILY THEY CHOSE
NANCY ROBARDS THOMPSON
Dear Reader,
Did you ever want something so badly you didn’t know how you’d survive without it? How far would you go to get it? Those are the questions plaguing Olivia Armstrong Mallory, daughter of the founder of the Armstrong Fertility Institute.
On the outside, Olivia seems to have it all: she’s young, beautiful and married to the man of her dreams, Jamison Mallory, the oldest son of a wealthy political dynasty. he’s heralded as a future contender for the Us presidency. Olivia plans to be right there by his side when he makes his bid for the White house. The only thing missing from their picture-perfect life is a baby.
As Olivia comes face-to-face with her worst nightmare, she realizes that all the money and power in the world can’t buy the things that matter most: love and family. In the process, she discovers a capacity to love that she never knew she possessed.
I hope you enjoy Olivia and Jamison’s journey. I love to hear from readers. so be sure to let me know what you think. You can reach me at [email protected].
Until next time,
Nancy Robards Thompson
About the Author
Award-winning author NANCY ROBARDS THOMPSON is a sister, wife and mother who has lived the majority of her life south of the Mason-Dixon line. As the oldest sibling, she reveled in her ability to make her brother laugh at inappropriate moments and soon learned she could get away with it by proclaiming, “What? I wasn’t doing anything.” It’s no wonder that upon graduating from college with a degree in journalism, she discovered that reporting “just the facts” bored her silly. since hanging up her press pass to write novels full-time, critics have deemed her books “funny, smart and observant.” she loves chocolate, champagne, cats and art (though not necessarily in that order). When she’s not writing, she enjoys spending time with her family, reading, hiking and doing yoga.
This book is dedicated to Gail Chasan and Susan
Litman. Ladies, thank you for your patience and
commitment. Working with you makes me a better
writer.
Chapter One
The chime of the house alarm alerted Olivia Armstrong Mallory that someone had opened the front door, rousing her out of her light sleep. The door squeaked open and then clicked shut, the sound echoing in the cavernous hallway.
As footsteps sounded on the parquet floor, she sat up on the couch, smoothed her brown hair and blinked at the Christmas tree—the sole light illuminating the expansive living room.
She’d only closed her eyes for a moment—or so she thought. However, a quick glance at the mantel clock begged to differ. It was after three in the morning.
Jamison.
Her husband had finally arrived home.
As a United States senator who was being groomed for the presidency, Jamison Mallory wielded a lot of power, but one thing beyond his control was the weather. It wasn’t his fault that ice and snow had grounded all planes coming in and out of Washington, D.C.
It’s a wonder he’s home now, she reminded herself as he appeared, suitcase in hand, in the archway that divided the living room and the foyer hall.
“Liv, you’re still awake?” His deep voice was flat. “You didn’t have to wait up for me.” Even in the low light, she could see that his handsome face looked drawn. His chiseled cheeks looked hollow, despite the day’s growth of blond razor stubble. The dark circles under his pale blue eyes hinted that he suffered the kind of travel-weary exhaustion that comes from long flight delays and blisteringly cold weather.
“Of course, I waited up for you. It’s Christmas Eve, Jamison—well, it was. Merry Christmas.” Olivia stood and smoothed the wrinkles from her red silk dress. She made sure the clasp to the pearl necklace she always wore was in the right place. When her husband didn’t move toward her, she swallowed her pride and crossed the room to him.
One of them had to extend the olive branch. In the spirit of Christmas, and for the sake of their marriage, she’d be the peacemaker tonight.
Two-and-a-half months apart—with only a brief Thanksgiving Day visit—was more than enough time to help her realize that her marriage was that important. In their seven years of matrimony, this trial separation was the longest they’d ever been apart.
She’d missed her husband so much it hurt—a deep, gnawing pain that only grew worse each day they were apart.
Jamison set down his bag and raked a hand through his short, wavy blond hair before opening his arms to her. Olivia slipped inside the circle of her husband’s embrace and tried to find that place where she fit so well. She wanted nothing more than to bury her face in his chest, to lose herself in the feel of him. But his hug felt stiff, almost perfunctory. As she shifted to find her spot, he dropped his arms and pulled away ever so slightly.
She hesitated a moment, processing the conflicting emotions that swam to the surface as she stood face-to-face with this handsome familiar stranger. But, no, she wasn’t going to make an issue of it. So she slammed the door on the irrational thoughts goading her to take his aloofness personally.
Spending Christmas Eve stuck in the airline’s Executive Lounge surely wasn’t his idea of a good time. He must be so tired and—
“You must be starving.” She started toward the kitchen. “I kept dinner warm for you. Sit down and I’ll fix you a drink and a plate.”
She glanced over her shoulder in time to see his frown deepen as he shook his head.
“Olivia, I’m exhausted. I just want to go to bed.”
His brusque tone made her wince. As was often the problem between them, it wasn’t so much what he said, but how he said it that cut her to the quick.
Tonight, though, she was willing to overlook it.
“Yes, of course,” she said. “I can see that you’re worn-out.”
He picked up his suitcase, walked over and kissed her on the forehead. Then, without another word, he turned and took his bag into the first-floor guest room, closing the door behind him.
Olivia stood alone in the living room. Confused, she crossed her arms over her chest, trying to ward off the numbing chill coursing
