Slightly Imperfect Read Online Free Page A

for her sake, he thought. Or maybe just to hear that beautifully cultured and comforting South Texas drawl.

    "Christian is their father. He was an Episcopal minister."
    Zac remembered from the much-publicized scandal. No wonder she recognized his Biblical name. She'd had in-house training. He sat back smiling, adjusting his body at an angle in the rigid, armless chair and extending his long legs. "A minister named Christian. Sounds contrived."
    Some of the tension dissolved in her soft laugher.
    "Is Christian a saint?" Was that why she felt so guilty, so responsible for the rancid past?
    "He was once. Actually, he still is, on my better days."
    Yeah. That was it, all right. She based her guilt on cause and effect.
    "I don't think transference applies here," he said. "We're only responsible for our own actions. The bible's full of it. Trust me, I'm an aficionado." But then so was her husband an aficionado on the Bible. Zac was more proficient in guilt.
    She smiled again, but didn't ask how he'd gotten so qualified on the subject of culpability.

    "Where is he? Christian?"
    "In London now. Since the—when Tommy died—" She fell silent, then started over. "Because I exposed my relationship with Tommy to the media, Christian lost his church. He's between missionary assignments now. He's being briefed in London to go to Baku. That's in—"
    "Azerbaijan. Nice place." He smiled, his mind grasping the fact she hadn't said she and the children were going. Only Christian. "It might be nice, actually. I've been spared. Is that why you were in India? On a mission? Were the twins born there?" He tried to imagine, comparing his vision to the Ramona General Hospital, where he had been born. And his son. And Angel.
    "Yes." That seemed to be all on the subject. "Do you have children? You seemed very attuned to Marcus and the twins."
    He was quiet, not sure he was ready, or ever would be. At last he heard himself say, "I have a daughter. Angelita." Angel's imagined face caressed his mind, but his lips wouldn't shape the pain of never having seen her. "I had a son. His name was Alejandro—Allie. He died."
    "Oh, God. I'm sorry."
    Zac smiled and swallowed, nodding. She was stricken and because of that, he would probably cry. He was past caring, past trying to hide his grief, except she hadn't cried and she was hurting, too. Did that make him weaker or stronger?
    "When?" she asked quietly. "How old was Allie when...?"
    "Almost a year ago. He was six." Zac was helpless. Nothing had ever burned as much in his life, or been as wet, as the tears easing down his face. He smiled again, shrugged, offering no apology. "He got hit by a car. While recovering from his injuries, he died of pneumonia."
    Victoria placed her hand over his. Snow on rich earth.
    "So, looking at Marcus is a reprieve," he said. "Painful but good. I thought of taking him and running away."
    Aghast, she jerked her hand away.
    He swiped at his tears, remembering that he and Victoria truly didn't know one another. "Not really," he soothed. "But seeing him—talking to him was great. He's beautiful. Allie was beautiful."
    "I'm so sorry. I should have been listening to your story."
    "That is my story." All he was ready to relinquish. "I signed onto the freighter thinking it would make it a little easier." Easier for Maggie to heal from betrayal and loss.
    "Has it?"
    He shrugged. "I don't know. I have nothing to compare it to. I sure as hell haven't forgotten anything, but how do I know I wouldn't have felt worse in Ramona? I guess getting back there in a month will be a revelation."
    "I'm going back, too."
    "When?" He pictured Marcus, knowing him in Puerto San Miguel. In Ramona. The vision felt right.
    "I'm not sure. I have some things to put to bed."
    That was an interesting phrase.
    "I want Marcus in school there by fall."
    February now. Zac did a quick calculation while she seemed to have a revelation of her own. "I think I should start back to the boat," she said. "Sometimes the