Page 109 of All We Need

“No.”Ishake my head vigorously. “No,Idon’t want to do that.I’vewaited long enough.”

“Okay,” he whispers and shuffles closer until his knees touch my thigh. “I’llbe there every step of the way.Ifit becomestoo much, you give me a sign and we can leave.Tapme on the thigh or something.But,Aly?”

“Yeah?”Iturn to look at him.

“I’m really proud of you, whatever you decide.”

This.Man.Thisperfect, caring, beautiful man.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

alessandra

WhenBoothsharedthat saying goodbye to his father was the scariest thing he’d done,Ifelt pathetic.

Booth’s constant assurances and pep talks have diluted that view.Sharingmy biggest fears with him was unnerving, butI’malmost confidentIwouldn’t be sitting inMartin’sliving room this second if it wasn’t for him.

I’m more emotionally prepared this time around, and knowing a light tap on his leg is all it’ll take to shut this down is a huge reassurance.Boothsits next to me on the sofa, his denim-clad thigh pressed to mine, my hand firmly clasped in his.

His presence anchors me.Holdingme steady to endure whatever stormI’mabout to face.

I allow myself to take inMartin’shome properly now.Despiteits size and being filled with random clutter, it feels empty.Thereare no photographs, no signs a family lived here.Wornoak floorboards are the only tell.They’veendured years of traffic, perhaps even played on by a young boy once upon a time.Thefloral upholstered furniture and drapes are drab but give a hint to a woman’s touch.

The rattling of china draws closer until an uneasy-lookingMartinappears.Histall, wiry frame curves in on itself, shoulders sagging.Thickhair, more gray than black is combed neatly to the side.LikeonChristmasDay, he seems overdressed for the occasion.Hiseyes flit between us and the large bay window, his discomfort evident.

The air grows tense as he sets the coffee and cookies on the table.

Between his unease and my chagrin, the atmosphere here is stifling.

“I’m sorry abo—”Istart, just asMartinasks, “Creamor sugar?”

He cringes, and my grip onBoothtightens.

“Aly will have one sugar, black—because she isn’t sweet enough.I’lltake a splash of cream, please.Thanks,Martin.”Booth’slighthearted joke does the trick.Mymuscles relax and the thick fog clinging to my brain lifts.

I wait forMartinto serve our drinks, and once he’s settled in the pale green wingback,Idive in.

If my voice wobbles orIlose my cool, it’ll be okay.

I can do this, but it’s easier withBoothhere.

As if sensingI’mabout to speak, he flashes me a reassuring look and strokes his thumb over the back of my hand.

“I’m sorry about turning up unannounced the other day.”WhenMartinlooks up,Ihold back my flinch at the silver eyes staring back at me. “Isuppose you have some idea whyI’mhere?”

He remains stoic, no reaction to my bluntness. “I’mnot sure howIdidn’t see it before.You…”Hisgaze drops, fingers twisting so tight his knuckles turn white. “Youlook just likeHarvey.Theeyes.Thehair.Youeven have the same nose.”

I stiffen andBoothshifts beside me.

“I’m not going to ask if you knew, because it’s clear you didn’t,”Isay. “Harvey’sname wasn’t on my original birth certificate,soIcan only assume he didn’t either.Unlesshe wasn’t interested.”

Martin’s expression is torn. “He, um,Ihaven’t seen him for…”Heclears his throat. “Wehaven’t spoken in a long time.Hemust have been quite young when you were born.Howold are you?”

“I’ll be thirty-one inMay.”

After some quick math, he nods. “Sixteen.Hewould have been sixteen.”

I nod. “Thesame age as my birth mother.Idon’t blame her for the choice she made—or either of them.I’mjust looking for answers.Tounderstand my heritage and medical history.Idon’t expect anything, if that’s your concern.I’mnot on the hunt for some hidden inheritance.”

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