‘Why?’ Amy looked at him indignantly. ‘Because I’m a woman?’
‘Because it’s none of my business, and you’ll handle it a lot better than me.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘Why, should I have said something?’
‘No. Definitely not. It’s personal, and besides . . .’ She exhaled an exasperated breath. ‘What are we doing? We’re in bed talking about work.’
Donovan traced circles with his fingertip on her bare shoulder. The heat of his skin against hers made her break out in goose bumps. ‘What’s wrong with that?’ he murmured. ‘We always mull over work in bed.’
‘We’ve not discussed our argument,’ Amy said. ‘You said some pretty hurtful things.’
‘Babe, you know I didn’t mean any of that stuff.’ Reaching over, Donovan tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear. ‘Going to Clacton . . . it brought back old memories. I wasn’t myself. I didn’t mean what I said.’
‘Which part?’ Amy frowned. ‘The bit about me forcing Molly to risk her life by going undercover, or the part where you regretted our relationship because you thought I was having an affair?’
‘Both.’ Donovan’s face was filled with remorse.
It was difficult for Amy to stay mad at him for very long.
‘I love you,’ he said. ‘You must know that. I want more. I thought you did too.’
‘I don’t know what I want.’ Amy sighed, sitting up in bed. She pulled the duvet to her chest, drawing her knees up. ‘But I’d never be unfaithful to you.’
But Donovan was staring at her, waiting for something more. Amy flushed. He had just told her he loved her. She could not leave the words hanging mid-air.
‘And if you want to know the truth . . . I love you too.’ She paused for thought. ‘As for what I want . . . You. I want you. And nobody else but you. Isn’t that enough?’ She exhaled the breath she had been holding, having tied herself up in knots. It shouldn’t be this hard, but for Amy the commitment was monumental.
Donovan slid his arm over her shoulder, drawing her close. Slowly, she relaxed into him. ‘When I got divorced, the last thing I wanted was a serious relationship.’ He kissed the top of her head. ‘Then you came into my life and turned it all upside down.’
‘What do you want from me?’ Amy said. ‘Do you see marriage and kids in our future?’
‘Kids?’ Donovan laughed nervously. ‘No . . . I mean, I’ve got a daughter. Granddaughters. I wouldn’t go that far.’
Tears pricked Amy’s eyes. ‘Then what?’
‘I want to wake up with you in the morning. I want you to be the last person I see before I go to sleep at night. I don’t need a certificate of marriage. I just want to be with you.’
‘Just the two of us.’
‘Yes.’
‘I want that too.’
‘Good. Then everything’s all right, isn’t it?’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
Amy closed her eyes, preparing herself for the bombshell she was about to drop. ‘Because that wasn’t Molly’s bag that you knocked off the desk. It was mine.’
‘What bag . . .’ Donovan stalled as the truth dawned. His arm fell away as he looked at her, shifting position until he was bolt upright. ‘That was . . . your pregnancy test?’
Amy nodded. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t speak. She just looked at him, trying to gauge his reaction to something she had yet to come to terms with herself.
‘Why . . . why didn’t you tell me?’
Amy cleared her throat. ‘I couldn’t take it in. I needed time to think.’ The silence that fell between them was deafening.
‘What are we going to do?’ Donovan said softly.
We, Amy thought. He said we. And in that moment, she knew that whatever happened, Donovan had her back. ‘I don’t know.’ After forty-eight hours of deliberating, she was no closer to an answer.
‘How?’ Donovan said. ‘I mean, we’ve been careful.’
‘I’ve been careful,’ Amy replied. ‘We stopped using condoms when we knew neither of us had been sleeping around. But all this business with Lillian . . . A few bouts of vomiting must have been enough to stop the pill from working. That’s all it takes.’ Her brow furrowed as she recalled the glasses of wine she’d had, and the pills she had continued to take. There could be anything wrong with this baby.
‘I should have a termination. It’s the right thing to do.’ But still, a flicker of hesitation lingered. A faint pulse was beating inside her. There were fingers and toes. The cop inside her wanted nothing to do with this baby. But another part of her – a tiny part – imagined what their child would look like. What if she had a girl? Would she be like her? Or would it be a boy, with Donovan’s piercing eyes and floppy hair? Then a cold, sobering thought came to the forefront of her mind. It was enough to make her stomach churn. What if it looked like Jack or Lillian?
Donovan was still talking, oblivious to her inner monologue. ‘I’ll be here for you. I’ll support you all the way, you know that, don’t you?’
Amy nodded, blinking back her tears. As she looked into Donovan’s eyes, she knew he was feeling it too. The uncertainty, the worry of saying the wrong thing.
‘If you want the baby, I’ll be here for you both. We’ll be a family. But if you don’t . . . you won’t go through it alone.’
And that was all she could ask for. Her throat tightened, a lump forming as reality hit home. Whatever the future brought, she and Donovan would face it together. But they weren’t talking about a case that needed solving.
They were talking about their flesh and blood.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks so much to my valued readers as always, for championing Amy’s story and helping to spread the word. Thanks also to the dedicated bloggers and book clubs who have read and reviewed my books. Despite these dark and unusual times, their enthusiasm for the written word has never faltered.
To Maddy and the fantastic team at the Madeleine Milburn Literary Agency – it’s a privilege to have such dedicated people at the helm of my career. Thank you to my publishers, Thomas & Mercer, for their unfailing enthusiasm for this series. To my editor, Jack Butler, who has been a joy to work with, and all the people who have worked hard to bring this book to fruition. I wish I had room to name you all individually, but you know who you are! I could not have asked for more. To Tom Sanderson, thanks for creating another stunning cover. A special mention to all my author friends, Mel Sherratt and Angela Marsons in particular. I’ve missed seeing everyone at the crime writing festivals this year, but thankfully we can communicate online. Here’s to hopefully meeting up in 2021.
Last but not least, to the driving force behind it all – my family. Your unfaltering belief helped me take the leap of faith from police officer to author and I’m so glad I did.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
A former police detective, Caroline Mitchell now writes full-time.
She has worked in CID and specialised in roles dealing with vulnerable victims – high-risk victims of domestic abuse and serious sexual offences. The mental strength shown by the victims of these crimes is a constant source of inspiration to her, and Mitchell combines their tenacity with her knowledge of police procedure to create tense psychological thrillers.
Originally from Ireland, she now lives in a pretty village on the coast of Essex with her husband and three children.
You can find out more at www.carolinemitchellauthor.com, or follow her on Twitter (@caroline_writes) or Facebook (www.facebook.com/CMitchellAuthor). To download a free short story, please join her newsletter here: http://eepurl.com/IxsTj.
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Flesh and Blood (A DI Amy Winter Thriller) Page 28
