Child by Chance. Tara Quinn Taylor
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Mrs. Barbour was listing off times when this Talia Malone would be available to meet with him.
“Whatever works best for her,” he said, not making note of any of them. Didn’t matter to him when it was. As long as it happened. “As soon as possible, whatever’s best for her,” he amended. If he had something on the calendar he’d switch it.
“Tomorrow, then? Just after lunch? Which would be one o’clock. I can give you the conference room down the hall for as long as you need it,” she said, all business as usual.
Grabbing a pen, Sherman took down the pertinent details. An appointment for a new lease on life.
That was right up his alley.
* * *
TALIA DIDN’T HUG a water fountain for comfort. She didn’t throw up. She also didn’t tell anyone, most particularly Tatum, that she was meeting her biological son’s father that Tuesday afternoon. She dressed in conservative black pants, a white blouse and her tweed blazer, twisted her hair back into a bun, glued the wayward tendrils down with professional-quality freeze spray and walked into that meeting with her big-girl panties firmly in place.
She hadn’t set out to do any of this. Had only wanted a glimpse of her son, to assure herself he was fine before she went on with her life and left him to his. She’d needed the closure of the life she was leaving behind.
But he’d been in trouble, and she’d been able to help. Not as his mother. As the person she was becoming in her new life—the professional Talia.
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