Page 93 of Reckless Love

“That’s true. That’s so true,” I say. As much as I’d wished for a different result, with two tests, I’d accepted that life didn’t always give me the outcome I wanted, the one that made the most sense.

“To your mother, that’s a good risk. The likelihood of the chain of events happening that I described is astronomically low. Forging the DNA test, if the result wasn’t Raul, becomes a no-brainer.”

“But she knew,” I say, my voice thick with tears, “she knew I wanted Landon to be yours.”

“And to your mother, that want would have been something you needed to be protected from. It didn’t serve you. But on top of that, and maybe more importantly, you as a single abandoned mother didn’t serve the Tucker family name and reputation.”

My mind starts racing, trying to remember the things my mother said and did during that time. She was definitely pro-Raul. Still is. At the fundraiser before the accident, she basically told me to forget Stephen and to make sure my husband felt supported as the head of the household. Such archaic bullshit, and I can’t believe I ever swallowed it.

“Are you sure that’s what happened?” I ask, clutching his shirt.

“No.” Stephen’s big hand spans my back as he runs it up and down my spine in soothing motions. “But that’s why I think we need another test.”

“If my mother has people at the hospital in her pocket, I don’t know how we do that.”

“The palace,” he says, lips against my temple. “They have a lab. Top-secret, high-priority cases were often sent there instead of through the police station or Tucker’s Town hospital. Dr. Bennett runs a tight ship over there.”

“You don’t work at the station anymore.” My brain is stalled.

“Your sister married into the royal family,” he reminds me gently. “If you call Maren or Brice, I’m sure they’d help us out.”

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel right now,” I whisper. “I think I should be angry—I want to be angry—but it’s like my mind is swimming in information it can’t process.”

“I might be wrong,” Stephen says. “I could be wrong.”

More than anything, I want Stephen to be Landon’s dad. But if Landon gains a caring, involved father, I lose my mother. I can’t forgive her if she’s manipulated and deceived not just me but Landon too. She completely changed the course of my life, of Landon’s life, and I can’t honestly say our lives have been better in any way. I masked my misery, more for Landon’s sake than anything, but when Stephen came back, the full force of my unhappiness hit me like a hurricane. If she forged the DNA result, she robbed us all.

“Monday,” I say. “I’ll text Maren to see if we can go on Monday when we take Landon to school.”

“Monday,” Stephen agrees.

“Can I stay here with you?” I ask, glancing up at him. “I don’t want to be alone with my thoughts.”

He tucks me in tighter and kisses my forehead. “If I could, I wouldn’t have you anywhere else.”

“Can you open the doors between the apartments in case Landon wakes up and calls for me?”

Stephen untangles himself from me, opens the doors on both ends of the hallway wide, turns out the lights, and comes back to the bed. He picks me up to pull the covers down, and then he slides me underneath. His gentleness makes my throat tight with emotion.

He stands at the edge of the bed, and I pat his spot. If he offers to sleep somewhere else, he’s totally misunderstood what I want.

“I never thought I’d get to be in a bed with you again,” he says, his voice gruff. “I never thought I’d be with you in any way after that night in my apartment. I really thought we were done.”

“Oh, Stephen, I’m really sorry,” I say, my voice thick with tears. “I’m so sorry.”

“Baby.” He crawls into bed beside me and carefully draws me into him. “Don’t cry. It’ll just make everything hurt.”

“Everything already hurts,” I say, burrowing my face in his chest. “And you called me baby.” I cling to him, crying, and my lungs hurt and my ribs hurt, but it’s nothing compared to how terrible I feel beneath those surface-level pains. I was so careless with him when I should have been so careful. If I’d treated him with the care he deserved, none of this would have happened.

“Even if he’s not mine,” Stephen murmurs into my ear, “he’s still yours, and that’s enough for me.”

When that just makes me cry harder, he holds me tight until we both fall asleep, wrapped up in each other.

Maren is outside the main entrance of the palace as we drive through the gates. I texted her the morning after Stephen told me he thought my mother was a master manipulator. The more I’ve thought about it, the more I believe it could be true.

“I checked with Dr. Bennett,” Maren says once we’re out of the car and following her across the expertly manicured grounds to the medical building, “and the palace is capable of running paternity tests in-house.” She tugs her hair into a ponytail as we walk. “Mom is unbelievable.”

“Neither of us know if she has done this.” Saying that is more to manage my expectations than a lack of belief. The idea that I could have Stephen and remove Raul from the family unit is everything I ever wanted six years ago. But if Raul is Landon’s father, I have to make sure I’m mentally prepared for that fight. It’s a tightrope walk between the two emotions—elation and despair.