Morgan sat on the living room floor, with his only child looking curiously around the room. Robin was only a year old, and although he’d spent many years wondering if he’d make a good father, Morgan knew he loved his son immediately after he was born. It was like a natural instinct that’d been buried deep inside him was now finally brought to life.
His only regret was that he was always so busy.
“I wish I could have more mornings like this,” he said to his wife.
Rachel, who’d been passing through the room performing a number of household chores, stopped with a laundry basket tucked under one arm. Even in her winding-down gear, she looked as beautiful as the day he’d met her: gentle auburn hair, soft pink lips, and dazzling blue eyes to die for. They narrowed with concern. “Why can’t you?”
Morgan shrugged, shaking a rattle for Robin. “Work.”
“Ah, this again.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just that we’re always going to have trouble integrating your job with our lifestyle.”
Morgan twitched, taken aback. He’d expected more resistance—not because Rachel wasn’t accommodating—but because, as far as he could see, his job was a dangerous one that required irregular hours. Especially when a case like this came about. “I don’t want it to be trouble.”
“Then quit. Do something else.”
“But I love the work.”
“Then stay. Carry on.”
Morgan laughed in a single draft, like he was deflating. “That’s useful. Thanks.”
“I just don’t know what you want me to say.” Rachel set the basket on the side and came farther into the room, lowering herself onto the floor and crossing her legs. A scent of strawberry shampoo lingered around her. “You need to talk about it?”
“I guess.”
“Then I’m listening.”
Shaking the rattle once more, Morgan gazed down at his son. Those chubby cheeks raised as he giggled at the sound, reaching lazily to take the toy from him. Morgan shook it again but remained focused. “It just reminds me of the DC Carver and Arthur St. John. I keep making promises that I’m going to slow down, and then a problem like this rolls into our lives. I can go on with the investigation—no issue there—but how long before it evolves into something bigger? It always seems to do that, and I don’t think this will be an exception.”
“Your worry is that it’ll affect us somehow?”
“That’s the short version, I guess.”
Rachel watched him, adjusting her position to something more comfortable so she could rest a hand on his knee without leaning. “Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it. But to be honest with you, I don’t think that’s the real problem.”
“Gah!” from Robin.
“What’s the real problem?” Morgan asked, Robin’s shriek piercing his ears.
“It’s that you underestimate yourself.”
“What do you mean?”
Rachel crooked an eyebrow. “You’re always saying your work is too dangerous or the hours are too sporadic. You let it get to you, and it knocks your concentration. The thing is, you always find a way to take care of me. This Mason Black thing is a bit… out-there, I admit, but whatever happens I know you’ll come through for him and for us.”
Morgan went into a blank stare while he considered this. He supposed it was true—if he stopped long enough to think about it and excused certain failures he’d had during their lives together. It wasn’t unlike him to miss things off their shopping list or arrive late for a dinner because work had held him back. But when it truly counted, was he there for Rachel? Would he always be there, both for her and their son? He sure thought so. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m being too hard on myself.”
Rachel beamed. “There you go, then.” She climbed off the floor and left to grab the laundry basket, passing through the doorway without looking back. “Now bring Robin into the dining room, will you? Dinner is ready in ten.”
“Sure,” he said, feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket. Without checking, he knew it was Gary. He’d been waiting on an email since they’d spoken yesterday, and since then nothing else had been on his mind. Only his family, both of which were here right now.
It was the work that beckoned.