The From Paris With Love And Regency Season Of Secrets Ultimate Collection. Кэрол Мортимер

change her mind, she picked up her phone and dialed. “It’s Evangeline. Your sister.”

      Family.

      What had started as a simple phone call was actually much more profound. Her heart hadn’t just been opened to Matt, but to a whole new world of connection. Even though he’d devastated her, he’d also introduced the wonders of permanence, longevity—all only possible if she allowed roots to grow.

      “Hi.” Lisa’s surprise came through the line clearly in the one short word.

      “Sorry to call you with no warning.” How did you build a relationship from scratch? Start slowly or jump in with both feet? “I’ve been going through a tough time and I wanted to apologize for losing touch. Can we start over?”

      Maybe somewhere in the middle, then.

      “I’d like that. How are you? Your voice is different.”

      Evangeline chuckled. “The surgery messed it up. Listen, I wanted to ask you. Are you still singing?”

      “Yeah. At school, we have a vocal group. I do that and karaoke on the weekends. Nothing that’s going to get me noticed, but Dad said I can record some demos after graduation.”

      Dad. Her stomach twisted at the label Lisa so easily gave the man who’d done nothing more for Evangeline than donate sperm. But this was part of letting go too, and nurturing those fledgling roots instead of chopping them off at the source.

      “I have a better idea. I wrote a song for you. I’d like to hear you sing it, and then if we both agree it’s everything I hope, I’ll book you a recording session with my former producer. He’ll lay it down right.”

      “Omigod. Are you serious?” Half of Lisa’s sentence came out a squeal. “You wrote a song for me? Why?”

      A million different throwaway responses rose up, but this was about forging a new direction and exposing the deepest parts of herself. About living up to the bravery Matt had seen in her.

      “I’m branching into a new career. As a songwriter. I expect I’ll write quite a few songs. Who better to write for than family? If we work really hard and are fully committed, the partnership can launch both of our careers.”

      Committed. It had a nice ring to it. She’d had precious little commitment to anything and expected it to drop a weight on her chest. But instead, the idea of collaborating with her sister, long term, carried the most intense sense of peace.

      Best of all, if someone asked her, What are you going to do now that you can’t sing anymore?, she had an answer.

      A new direction as a songwriter and a new direction with family. Timely, since she was going to have a family of her own when the baby was born.

      A wave of guilt clogged her throat. She’d deliberately ensured that family would only consist of two—her and the baby.

      That wasn’t fair to Matt, Matt’s family or the baby.

      Evangeline surprised herself by saying, “I’m planning to be in the States soon. Would you mind if I dropped by Detroit so we can work this song face-to-face?”

      “That would be killer. When?”

      “I’m not sure exactly. I’ll call you. I have a stop to make first. In Dallas.”

      Matt didn’t love her—and she’d almost accepted that—but she didn’t want her child to grow up without knowing its family. Her baby deserved to know his or her father. Grandparents. Uncle and aunts. Her child wouldn’t have to suffer crushing loneliness its whole life. Like she had.

      But none of that was going to happen if she hid in Europe forever.

      Pregnancy hormones, or maybe just sheer disappointment in herself and in Matt for not being what she wanted, had driven her to make a rash decision she now regretted. What else had she categorically rejected before it could reject her?

      She had to figure out a way to be a coparent with Matt, no matter how much he’d hurt her. Her baby needed her to be brave. She had to go to Dallas and forge a relationship with her child’s family. She and Matt were getting a family together; it just wasn’t going to happen the way she’d have liked. Somehow, she’d make it work, no matter where she ended up living.

      * * *

      The flight to Dallas was miserable. Two layovers, one delayed flight and a near-morning-sickness-mishap in the aisle of first class later, Evangeline plunked down in a cab and handed the driver Francis and Andrew Wheeler’s address. When Matt had shoved it at her with instructions to mail any legal documents to his attention there, she’d never expected to use it personally.

      When the cab stopped, her breath caught. The Wheelers’ house was exactly what she’d envisioned. Welcoming. Homey. Located in a quiet, stately neighborhood she’d have no problem allowing the baby to run free through.

      A pretty middle-aged woman answered her knock. Matt had inherited his mother’s blue eyes and blond hair. The older woman’s shocked gaze reminded her an awful lot of Matt’s face when she’d handed him the pregnancy test.

      “Hello,” Evangeline said. “We haven’t met but—”

      “Matthew’s not here.”

      “Oh. You recognize me.” That had not been the greeting she’d expected. Actually, she hadn’t known what to expect.

      “Of course. You’re the mother of my grandchild.”

      Not Eva. Not Evangeline. But something else entirely—part of a family. She took it as a sign that she’d made the right decision in coming here.

      “I am.”

      Obviously Matt had told everyone about the baby.

      Matt’s mother blinked and her smile warmed. “And I’m terribly rude. I’m Fran. Please come in. You must be exhausted from your flight. May I call you Evangeline? I’m very happy to meet you.”

      Fran ushered her inside, chattering as if they’d met years ago instead of minutes. The Wheeler household engulfed her the moment she stepped into the foyer. Warm, rich creams and teals tastefully accented the formal living room, but it didn’t feel stuffy. Framed photographs lined the mantel of a large fireplace. All the pictures contained smiling people, clustered together as if they couldn’t get close enough.

      A family lived here.

      “Your home is beautiful. I see where Matt gets his taste.”

      The older woman shot her a puzzled glance. “Thank you. You call him Matt? And he lets you?”

      “Is that unusual?” Evangeline perched on the edge of the sofa and Fran joined her.

      “He hates that nickname. Always has. Says it sounds too much like a frat boy with a skateboard under his arm.” Fran patted her arm. “I like you already. Anyone who can unstarch my son is a friend of mine.”

      Matt starched? Evangeline laughed involuntarily. If only Fran knew how unstarched her son could truly be.

      “I hope we can be friends. I’m actually glad Matt’s not here. I came to see you.”

      “You did?”

      She had no idea how much Matt had told his parents, but the relationship between her and Fran could and should last a very long time.

      “I did a selfish thing by taking off to Monte Carlo. Matt hurt me, and I used that as an excuse to keep everyone away from my baby. But I want you, and all of Matt’s family, to be a part of the baby’s life. It’s very important to me.”

      Fran’s eyes lit up, just like Matt’s did when he was happy. “I’d like that, too. I’d like it better if my grandchild’s parents were married. But I promise that’s all I’ll say to interfere with what my son has clearly informed me is not my business.”

      So maybe he had told her everything. Having that kind of bond with