Page 59 of Ruthless Claim

“And Connor,” I say, because it is true. Connor acts like he doesn’t miss his own child, which makes it obvious he does. “Connor misses her, but it’s his own fault.” I exhale heavily through my nose. “But he’ll never say that. It’s eating him up and he doesn’t know what to do with it.”

Valentina looks at me. “Do you miss her?”

I scoff and rub my forehead. “She’s not dead.”

Valentina scowls. “That’s not what I asked.”

I look at the ceiling. “Yeah,” I say, feeling emotion well in my throat. “I miss what was. Before Leo. Before any of it. When Emma was just—here, and it was simple.”

Valentina is quiet for a moment. “She’s happy,” she says quietly, if not a little defensively. “In case you needed to hear that. She’s really happy with my brother. The circumstances were a disaster and she is happy.”

I look at her.

She looks back at me, those dark eyes completely unguarded.

I think about everything she said tonight—at the dinner, in the hallway, here—and I think about how she says the honest thing to me when it’s just us.

I think about the rules.

No emotions, no expectations, no entanglement.

I proposed them because I needed something to hold onto and they were what was available.

But tonight in the hallway, with her telling me to look at things clearly, angry on my behalf in the way you only get when something actually matters to you—tonight was the night I stopped being able to pretend I don’t know what this is.

Her hand is close to mine on the pillow. She’s still looking at me.

“Valentina,” I say.

She leans in. “What?” she asks, nearly breathlessly.

I don’t say anything.

I don’t have the words yet.

I just look at her and she looks back and something passes between us that neither of us names and both of us know.

She turns back to the ceiling.

“Go to sleep, Brennan,” she says finally, and there’s something in her voice that’s softer than what she usually lets me hear.

I lie back and I look at the ceiling.

It’s not what I said it was and it hasn’t been for a while.

I close my eyes.

I don’t sleep for a long time.

7

VALENTINA

My brother calls at nine forty-three on a Tuesday morning.

The moment I see his name on my screen my heart races. Leo calling me isn’t something out of the ordinary.

He will usually call or text me regularly to argue about something stupid. But Emma is four days past her due date and every phone call sets me on edge.