Michael didn't plan on remaining in Oakridge for very long.
The trip was supposed to be brief—manage the merger, get to know the board, and get back to Europe before the specters of his past got too close. But as soon as he saw her, something changed.
Lorna Jenkins .
No, now it's Lorna Madden.
Just the name had hit his chest like a blunt blow.
He was unable to concentrate, however, as he stood in the corner of the hotel's rooftop café, sipping an unfinished espresso and looking through business documents on his tablet. His gaze kept straying across the plaza to the tiny boutique.
He was drawn to the woman standing right outside the boutique rather than the store itself. Lorna. She was laughing with a tall, assertive, and sharp-featured woman who was probably her friend. And a little boy was standing next to her.
The boy might have been four or five years old.
With ease, he held Lorna's hand while gazing up at her with a smile that Michael hadn't seen in years. It was soft. maternal.
Michael stopped.
With a gentle clatter against the table, the tablet fell out of his grasp. He was hardly aware.
Five years.
Before he could stop it, the math began to race through his mind.
He observed Lorna gently brushing back the child's hair while she knelt to tie his shoe. Clutching a toy airplane, the boy giggled before saying something that made both women laugh. The tilt of his brow and the curve of his face were unnerving even from a distance.
Too much like home.
Like, too much
Unable to breathe for a moment, Michael stood up suddenly. He tried to push the thought away as his heart pounded in his chest, but it had already taken root.
No. It isn't possible.
The timing, though. The likeness.
The age of the boy.
Without realizing it, Michael started to walk, his long strides carrying him across the plaza. He followed them as they made their way to a nearby park, but he didn't come close. He reminded himself that he wasn't following her. All he needed was clarity.
Michael ducked behind a column as Lorna turned abruptly to assist the boy on a swing. He balled his fists up. His thoughts were yelling.
Was that her son?
Is Lucas's son?
Or...
No. He would have heard it from Lorna. Would she not?
It's possible that the Michael from five years ago thought she owed him that. The Michael of today was wiser. When it counted most, he had abandoned her. Perhaps the truth wasn't fair to him.
It didn't deter him from wanting it, though.
He turned away after giving the boy one last glance, his eyes meeting as he flew on the swing.
Closure was no longer the only consideration.
It had to do with answers.
And the eerie suspicion that Lorna Madden was concealing a lot more than she had ever disclosed.