consciousness. Despite her earlier fanciful thoughts, she couldn’t run the risk of Brandon discovering he had a son. No matter what her mother said. Sam was hers and hers alone.
Guilt twisted inside her. She ignored it with brutal determination. Brandon was nothing more than a sperm donor. He hadn’t wanted kids. Not with her, not with anyone. He’d made it clear over and over again during the tumultuous last year of their marriage. She was the one who had wanted a child.
He had no claim on Sam. Not now, not ever.
* * *
Brandon spat a mouthful of toothpaste into the bathroom sink and rinsed his mouth. Staring at his reflection in the mirror, he grimaced at the age lines and shadows of regret that life had etched on his face. The strain of working alongside Alex was beginning to show. What the hell was he doing? Why was he torturing himself like this?
With an impatient swipe of the towel across his mouth, he tossed the linen aside and left the room. The sun was slowly climbing up over the horizon, its gold and orange fire glittering across the deep blue of the Pacific Ocean. His comfortable unit afforded unobstructed views over Bondi Beach and its mix of trendy apartments and old family homes.
It was the home he’d shared with Alex. Even though their marriage had ended, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to part with the property they’d purchased together. It had been their dream home, the place they’d planned to grow old in.
It hadn’t worked out that way, but when Alex’s lawyer had raised the question of selling the apartment, he hadn’t hesitated to buy her out.
Walking into the open plan kitchen and dining room, he slid one of the double sliding glass doors open and stepped onto the balcony. His eyes were gritty from lack of sleep after another long night shift, but he could still appreciate the beauty of the morning and the sharp, tangy scent of the salt spray from the rocks on the beach below. Early morning joggers dotted the sand and he yearned for their seemingly carefree existence.
Leaning over the balcony, he filled his lungs with the fresh, salty air and tried not to remember the countless mornings he’d spent here with Alex. His wife.
Despite the years they’d been separated, he’d never stopped thinking of her that way. It was probably one of the reasons his half-hearted relationships with the handful of women who’d come in and out of his life in the time since, hadn’t been able to hold his interest.
That, and the fact he was still in love with her.
For so long, he’d strived to create a life without her, to move forward—and on the surface, he’d succeeded. His career had flourished.
Without the responsibility of a wife, he’d taken on some of the most dangerous assignments, no longer placing any value on his life. With the increase in danger came an increase in his salary and his financial status was enviably secure.
The same couldn’t be said for his personal life, but that was something he kept firmly to himself and no one, not even his family, could guess at the depth of his deception.
Until the night he’d opened up to Tom, he’d never given anyone the tiniest hint that he was anything but happy over his single, happy-go-lucky existence. He’d done a good job of always having an attractive date at family get-togethers and work functions and, apart from the occasional look of concern thrown his way by his mother or one of his sisters, no one had been any the wiser.
But, the truth was, he was lonely. His heart had never recovered from the death blow he’d dealt his marriage and even though he’d spent the first couple of years afterwards in a quagmire of pain and anger and confusion, time and countless therapy sessions had eventually had their effect and the end result was that now he simply missed his wife. Missed her laughter, missed her touch, missed her love.
His thoughts returned to his conversation with Alex the night before and he frowned. He was still
Guilt twisted inside her. She ignored it with brutal determination. Brandon was nothing more than a sperm donor. He hadn’t wanted kids. Not with her, not with anyone. He’d made it clear over and over again during the tumultuous last year of their marriage. She was the one who had wanted a child.
He had no claim on Sam. Not now, not ever.
* * *
Brandon spat a mouthful of toothpaste into the bathroom sink and rinsed his mouth. Staring at his reflection in the mirror, he grimaced at the age lines and shadows of regret that life had etched on his face. The strain of working alongside Alex was beginning to show. What the hell was he doing? Why was he torturing himself like this?
With an impatient swipe of the towel across his mouth, he tossed the linen aside and left the room. The sun was slowly climbing up over the horizon, its gold and orange fire glittering across the deep blue of the Pacific Ocean. His comfortable unit afforded unobstructed views over Bondi Beach and its mix of trendy apartments and old family homes.
It was the home he’d shared with Alex. Even though their marriage had ended, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to part with the property they’d purchased together. It had been their dream home, the place they’d planned to grow old in.
It hadn’t worked out that way, but when Alex’s lawyer had raised the question of selling the apartment, he hadn’t hesitated to buy her out.
Walking into the open plan kitchen and dining room, he slid one of the double sliding glass doors open and stepped onto the balcony. His eyes were gritty from lack of sleep after another long night shift, but he could still appreciate the beauty of the morning and the sharp, tangy scent of the salt spray from the rocks on the beach below. Early morning joggers dotted the sand and he yearned for their seemingly carefree existence.
Leaning over the balcony, he filled his lungs with the fresh, salty air and tried not to remember the countless mornings he’d spent here with Alex. His wife.
Despite the years they’d been separated, he’d never stopped thinking of her that way. It was probably one of the reasons his half-hearted relationships with the handful of women who’d come in and out of his life in the time since, hadn’t been able to hold his interest.
That, and the fact he was still in love with her.
For so long, he’d strived to create a life without her, to move forward—and on the surface, he’d succeeded. His career had flourished.
Without the responsibility of a wife, he’d taken on some of the most dangerous assignments, no longer placing any value on his life. With the increase in danger came an increase in his salary and his financial status was enviably secure.
The same couldn’t be said for his personal life, but that was something he kept firmly to himself and no one, not even his family, could guess at the depth of his deception.
Until the night he’d opened up to Tom, he’d never given anyone the tiniest hint that he was anything but happy over his single, happy-go-lucky existence. He’d done a good job of always having an attractive date at family get-togethers and work functions and, apart from the occasional look of concern thrown his way by his mother or one of his sisters, no one had been any the wiser.
But, the truth was, he was lonely. His heart had never recovered from the death blow he’d dealt his marriage and even though he’d spent the first couple of years afterwards in a quagmire of pain and anger and confusion, time and countless therapy sessions had eventually had their effect and the end result was that now he simply missed his wife. Missed her laughter, missed her touch, missed her love.
His thoughts returned to his conversation with Alex the night before and he frowned. He was still
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