“A storage unit, but where?”
He shrugged. “Could be anywhere. The question is, why would he sew them into your stuffed animal?”
“He knew I would never get rid of it. I had to return everything else, but I saved this one to remember.” She stroked the bear’s head. “The Feds went through everything else he owned, taking most of it. I guess he knew they wouldn’t take this.”
“Smart man.”
“Diabolical,” she whispered. “And probably another reason why he hasn’t signed the divorce papers.”
She set the panda down next to her, put on her robe, then pulled her chair up beside the bed and with her weight on her good foot, got into the chair and wheeled it in front of her computer.
“You’re moving around a lot better than I thought,” he said, impressed.
She smiled. “I’m on the mend, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like you helping me in and out of your truck. Now let’s get to work on your business plan.”
“Okay, but can we get coffee first?” he asked.
“I’m sure it’s already made in the kitchen.”
“You want me to go in the kitchen? Alone? What if your mom is there?”
She laughed. “You’re a big boy. I’m sure you can handle doing the walk of shame in front of my mom.”
He grinned and got dressed. “I’m going to pretend I just arrived.”
“Chicken.”
“Maybe.”
As it turned out, the kitchen was empty. After two cups of coffee, the two of them pulled together a business plan that even impressed him. “This is really impressive. Today is going to be a good day. I know it.”
“Hurry home and get ready to go to Atlanta. I’ll be ready in thirty minutes,” she said.
“All right.” He leaned down and kissed her, his lips lingering for a sweet moment. Not too long, but long enough to make him want to pull her back under the covers one more time. He went home to shower and get dressed. He began to believe he could make his business a success in spite of the Reaves. Gillian held the pieces he was missing, pieces he didn’t even know he needed.
He took extra time with his appearance, making sure he looked like a confident and successful businessman. She made him believe anything was possible. The doorbell rang. He waited for his dad to answer but didn’t hear him rustling about in the kitchen. The bell rang again. He hurried to the door and pulled it open.
A man he’d never seen before stood on his porch, a manila envelope in his hand. “Mr. Nick Carr?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve been served.” The man handed him the envelope, then turned and headed down the porch steps.
Nick looked at the envelope with a local lawyer’s office stamped as the return address and scowled. He went inside, tearing open the package and laying the papers on the table.
The Reaves were suing him for custody of Bailey, claiming he was an unfit father. He quickly scanned the allegations against him, most of which were problems he’d had years ago, but some of them looked pretty bad.
All his confidence came crashing down. He took out his phone and called his dad. “Hey, Dad. Can you recommend a family lawyer?”
“I can, but he’s not cheap.”
“I’ll find a way to pay for him. Somehow.”
“I wish I could help you,” his dad said, “but it’s going to take everything I have to save the church.”
“I understand. This is my fight. The Reaves wouldn’t have pulled their donations if not for me.”
“Hang in there, Nick. You’re doing the right thing by Bailey. That’s all that matters. I’ll text you the contact information.”
“Thanks, Dad.” Nick hung up the phone, then called the lawyer’s office and made an appointment for the next day. This fight for his baby was about to get real.