Ready or Not (Ready #4)(40)

I’d felt raw fear only a handful of times in my life.

When I’d awoken to find Natalie and every shred of her existence gone from my life, the dread of being a single father had hit me hard.

She’d left nothing but a note—a single sentence.

I’m not meant for either of you.

After walking into the tiny room we had converted into a nursery, I’d looked down at my newborn son and wept. I’d barely figured out how to be a father. How could I ever replace a mother?

But somehow, I had been enough.

Other times in my life, like when Noah fell or was injured, I’d experience that heart-stopping sensation because life had suddenly changed and things would always be different.

I’d felt it again last night as I walked up to Liv’s door and heard her fragile voice begging for mercy.

Anger had welled up in my veins, and I’d surged ahead to take down the intruder who dared to lay a hand on her, but behind the all-consuming rage had been raw fear.

What if I had been too late? What if she had already been hurt?

Even after finding her untouched and unharmed, my anxiety hadn’t lessened. The fluttering feeling in my gut had still twisted and turned me into knots.

But now, everything was over, and she was here, safe and sound, yet I still worried.

Would she pull away now?

I realized I had been gazing out the window for probably eons as my mind went on endlessly without reason.

Focusing back on the task at hand, I turned to my computer and pulled up the Internet browser.

Right now, I needed to focus—at least for a couple of minutes.

Taking the day off wasn’t a problem. Normally, I wouldn’t be asked to do much of anything, but a potential high-profile client would be visiting the firm tomorrow, so Mark wanted me prepped and ready for when the Senator walked through the door, which meant I had to do research. I was expected to know as much as possible by tomorrow morning. If I wanted to spend today with Liv, then I needed to start cramming.

Most of the information I found, I’d already learned from watching the news and reading the paper. Senator Prescott was the son of a local farmer. He was the top in his high school class, and he’d gone on to study political science at the University of Virginia. He’d received his law degree from Princeton, passed the bar, and taken his first position as a junior associate back in his home state of Virginia. He was married with one daughter—

“What are you doing?”

I turned around to see Liv frozen behind me with a mix of shock and horror written all over her face.

“Oh, sorry,” I said. “Bit of research for work.”

“You’re researching Senator Prescott?” She folded her arms across her chest.

I nodded, motioning toward the article on the screen. She stepped forward to take a closer look at the photo towards the bottom. It was an older one from when he’d first run for state senate. It showed him up on stage, much younger-looking, waving to the crowd with his proud wife and child behind him.

Glancing up at Liv, I was about to explain the firm’s opportunity, but I was halted by the look of pure devastation spread across her features.

“I loved that dress,” she said softly.

“What?”

“The way it shimmered under the lights on that stage. It made me feel like a princess. He always said I was, you know? His princess. But after that moment, I wasn’t. Work was. It became his wife, his mistress, and the very reason for his existence.”

I jerked my head back to the picture on the screen, narrowing my focus on the little girl standing in the background. Dark curls framed her tiny face—a face I’d seen before.

“You’re his daughter,” I said, turning back to Liv.

She simply nodded.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

She shrugged. “I never tell anyone.”

Since I’d met Liv, she’d never mentioned family, and when she had, all she’d ever said was, there was none. Sure, they had the same last name but so did a lot of people. Plus, Liv didn’t exactly look like a senator’s daughter. I’d never even considered her elusive family could in fact be state royalty.

“What happened?”

“It’s a long story,” she replied.

“Well, why don’t I make us some coffee, and you can tell me about it?”

“Okay.”

She sat down at the small kitchen table, the one I’d sat at years before when I was small and came to visit for the summer. Nana would make pancakes and sing songs she’d learned from church while I’d color pictures or play with Legos on that worn, old oak tabletop.

Liv’s fingers slid across the grooves and dents that age had brought to the table as she gathered her thoughts. I poured us each a cup of coffee and grabbed the cream from the fridge. I sat down beside her and handed her a cup.

“My father was my world when I was growing up. He was the best kind of dad,” she said, smiling. “But then, he became Senator Prescott, and everything shifted—his focus, priorities and even me. His entire world revolved about his image, the next campaign, and what the voters thought. He was swept up in this whirlwind, and my mother and I were left by the sidelines to watch.”

“You grew apart,” I guessed.

She took a sip of her coffee, not bothering to add anything to it. I, on the other hand, poured in a hefty amount of cream and dumped in three spoonfuls of sugar before bringing the cup to my lips.