I was woken by loud banging noises coming from the kitchen at some ungodly hour in the morning.

I muttered obscenities under my breath as I sat up, running my hands through my hair. I wasn't angry about being up so early. I was angry that I had been yanked from a thankfully dreamless sleep, for the first time in what felt like years. I actually felt rested for once.

Blowing out a sigh, I glanced over at the other side of the bed, and wasn't surprised to find the sheets empty.

"Miele, what're you doing? It's three thirty in the morning."

Hadley kept her attention fixed on the cookie tray in front of her as she dropped blobs of dough onto the aluminum foil, not glancing up as I walked into the kitchen. "I'm baking."

"I can see that." I leaned up against the counter beside her, crossing my arms. "Can't sleep?"

She blew out a sigh, shaking her head. "Feels like the baby is practicing for the goddamn Olympics right now."

I fought back a snort of laughter. "That's definitely my kid."

Hadley stopped dropping dough onto the cookie tray and looked up at me, her lips turning down in a frown.

"What?"

"Are you..." She dropped her spoon in the bowl full of dough and wiped her hands on a dish towel. "I mean...are you feeling better?"

"Feeling better?" I repeated slowly. "What do you mean?"

I didn't know if I was feeling better. In all honesty, I didn't even know how I was feeling lately. Lately, I was just...there. I hadn't figured out yet if this was a good or bad thing.

To an extent, blocking your emotions was an asset, or at least I always thought it was. But right now, was it such a good thing? That was another thing I didn't know.

"I don't know," Hadley said, shrugging. "You just seem like you have a...different attitude. It's...hard to explain."

"Really?" I said slowly. "I hadn't noticed."

She shot me a grin. "Therapy is helping?"

Oh, I wasn't so sure about that. My last two appointments with Agnes Schaffer had been highly awkward to say the least. She'd tried to weasel more out of me about my childhood, wanting to know how the family dynamics had been at home, among a countless things of other. I was embarrassed to admit that some things I had let slip, but the majority of the thoughts swarming around in my mind were kept safe from Agnes Schaffer.

If I had been acting differently, I had hardly noticed.

I returned her shrug. "God only knows."

"Uh-huh."

She rolled her eyes, still grinning, and went back to plopping more cookie dough blobs onto the tray.

I watched her work for a few minutes. She hummed under her breath as she dug into the cookie dough. The light filtering down from the kithen bulbs made her dark brown hair look shiny, and made her skin look as smooth as cream.

How had I not noticed just how unbelievably beautiful my wife really was?

"Archer, why are you staring at me like that? It's creepy."

"What? Oh." I quickly looked away from her and stared up at the ceiling. "Sorry."

Jesus, how long had I been staring at her?

"What, uh...were you thinking about?" she asked casually as she pulled open the oven door and slid in a tray of cookies.

"The first time we kissed."

Shit, where were all of these things coming from? Did my brain-to-mouth filter suddenly break? Not that I had one in the first place, but still. Was I asking for trouble?

"What, why were you thinking about that?" Hadley said loudly, straightening up quickly - well, as quickly as she was capable of - looking at me in horror. "That was ten years ago."

I shrugged, honestly unsure why I had even been thinking about that. The kitchen in my family's coffee house hadn't been the most romantic place, sure, and Hadley hadn't been the first girl I'd ever kissed, but that night...

As horrible as that night had been, I still never forgot what her skin had felt like beneath my fingers or the way her lips had moved with mine. It was weird and I still didn't understand it, but I had always thought back to that moment whenever something happened that made me want to explode. It reminded me that there were in fact good things that happened in this world.

When I finished telling Hadley that, her face was a brilliant shade of maroon and she immediately stared stuttering when she tried to speak.

"W-Why...I mean, y-y-you, that was a...a s-silly kiss and I - "

"Why are you blushing?" I asked, momentarily distracted by her skittish behavior. "Did you not like our first kiss?"

"No, it's not that, I- I just..."

"I liked our first kiss. It was nice."

"Well, yeah, b-but you just..."

I figured she wouldn't be able to string together a coherent sentence for the rest of the night, so I settled for grabbing her face in my hands and kissing her.

I think I should have written down I like that I can make sweet, innocent Hadley Jamison blush like a tomato after ten years together when Agnes Schaffer had me write down the things I liked about myself.

I stood outside the entrance of Richard Van Auken's Upper East Side residence and felt myself start to break out in hives.

In this day and age, and especially with running my own business, I needed every fat paycheck I could get my hands on. Getting squeamish because I was about to walk into one extremely expensive brownstone was something I couldn't afford to be experiencing.

But there was also the fact that Richard Van Auken was my father-in-law's business partner, and he had paid me much, much more than my hourly rates for my business.

If those weren't the real reasons I had accepted this gig, I never would have. I stayed away from the wealthier sections of Manhattan at all costs on a regular day, but I didn't exactly have a choice here.

"Come on, you're not a pussy," I muttered to myself, still staring up at the Van Auken brownstone. "Just get in there, get the shoot over with, and get the hell out of here."

Right. That had to be my game plan. I just needed to get this over with.

I quickly marched up the steps to the glossy mahogany front doors and raised my hand to quickly rap on it. The door swung open a second later and a woman in a black blouse and tight skirt opened the door, a very stern look on her face.

Her eyes immediately narrowed in on the camera bag over my shoulder, and she said, "You must be the photographer. Come in."

I tried to keep my jaw from dropping as I stepped over the threshold, but it proved difficult. The foyer was absolutely magnificent, with shiny marble floors and rich gold and crimson decorations, even a few oil paintings lining the walls. I had always thought Hadley's parents were loaded, but this place screamed old money. The Van Auken family's blood definitely ran blue.

"Remove your shoes, please," the woman told me briskly, crossing her arms. "We just had new carpets placed in the other day."

I really did not want to remove my shoes. I hated people staring at my feet. I wouldn't get my paycheck if I didn't take my shoes, however, so I grudgingly acquiesced.

"This way," the woman said once my shoes were off. "The family is waiting in the parlor room."

The parlor room? I thought incredulously. Who in this century still said parlor room?

"Ah, there he is! Archer Morales!"

Rick Van Auken was on his feet the second I walked into the massive living room and converging on me with smiles and handshakes.

The last time I had seen Rick had been at my wedding, but the man still looked the same with the perfectly gelled hair and brand label clothing.

"How are you doing, my man?" Rick said eagerly. "You look great, just great."

"I'm doing well, thanks," I said awkwardly.

What was even more awkward was the fact that Rick had been the only one to actually stand to greet me. The rest of his family - his wife, two sons, and daughter, who had also been guests at my wedding - were seated around in the posh furniture, the expressions on their faces ranging from boredom to exhaustion.

"How's my girl Hadley doing?" Rick asked conversationally. "It's been awhile since I've seen her."

"She's well," I said honestly. "Really well."

"Good, good!" Rick clapped me on the back, then tossed an arm around my shoulder. "Pamela, Greg, Kip, Natalie, you remember Archer, don't you?"

"I remember Archer very well," Natalie, the daughter, said, shooting me a flirtatious wink.

"Charming," Pamela said, giving me a bland smile. "Shall we get on with the pictures then, dear? I have a spa appointment at two."

"Yeah, and I have a late lunch with Denise and her parents," Kip the son said, his eyes fixed on his iPhone. "Can we hurry this up?"

Just remember, you're getting paid for this, I had to silently remind myself.

"Right," Rick said, oblivious to his family's lack of interest. "Well, work your magic, then, Archer."

It took me five minutes to open and close drapes to get the perfect amount of necessary lighting in the large living room. I repositioned one of the French couches closer to the massive fireplace, then ordered the Van Auken family to sit.

God give me the patience to get through this, I thought dismally as I pulled my camera out of my bag.

By the time the session was actually finished I had already decided I would be stopping at the nearest liquor store to buy a twelve pack. The Van Aukens were an absolute pain in the ass to work with. Kip never put his phone away long enough for me to actually take a shot, Greg the other son kept sighing like family photos were a huge imposition for him, and unless I was much mistaken, the looks Natalie kept sending my way were less than innocent. Pamela really didn't care either way. The only pleasant one was Rick.

I was very thrilled to be finished with the Van Auken family. I wasn't even going to mind editing the photos so long as I didn't have to deal with any of them.

As soon as I said, "Well, I think that's it," Kip was out the front door, Pamela was shouting orders for someone to call her chauffeur, Natalie wandered off somewhere and Gregm muttered something about going to the bathroom.

"Well, thanks again," Rick said as I settled my camera back in its bag. "I really appreciate it."

"Not a problem," I told him.

"My secretary said your schedule was packed for two months straight when she called last December," Rick continued. "Business must be pretty good, then?"

"Pretty good," I said with a small grin. "Can't complain."

Rick laughed. "Good, good. Well, can I get you a beer before you head out?"

Had he read my mind?

"That sounds fantastic."

I left my camera bag with my shoes and followed Rick through a fancy looking study and then into a kitchen that looked like it belonged on a set for one of Emeril's cooking shows.

Rick pulled open the fridge door and came up with two Fosters oil cans.

"Thanks," I said, cracking the top on my can and taking a sip.

"Cheers," Rick said, tipping his can towards me.

We chatted about inconsequential things as we finished off our beer. It was awkward, but not overly so. Rick Van Auken, despite being a lawyer, wasn't that bad to be around, surprisingly. He had more personality than Hadley's father, and I was amazed they managed to keep their business together with how different they were from each other.

I'd finished half of my can of beer when Rick's phone started blaring some ringtone, echoing in the kitchen.

"Sorry," Rick said apologetically. "Work line."

I held up my hands. "Go ahead."

He quickly answered his phone with a "Rick here," as he left the kitchen.

I leaned up against the counter, sipping at my beer, glancing around. I probably should have been leaving for home - I had a crap ton of editing to get done - but I didn't want to waltz off without saying goodbye to Rick.

I didn't know him very well, but he was one of the good guys. I was confident enough in my ability to read people to be able to tell that.

I caught sight of a bulletin board hung up above a wine rack across the kitchen as I looked around, and it was covered in photos and letters. I walked over to check it out for lack of better things to do. I mean, it wasn't sneaking around, was it? Not if it was hung up in the kitchen?

Most of the pictures on the bulletin board were vacation photos of Pamela and Rick in exotic places with palm trees and beaches, one of them even in front of the Roman Coliseum. Then there were Christmas cards from a wide variety of people, and what looked like thank you notes and letters, and then -

"What?"

I snathed the thick ivory card off the bulletin board and stared down at it with wide eyes, hardly able to believe what I was looking at it. A feeling similar to the one that had overcome me at Canaan when I had visited my father came over me, making me feel sick.

Mr. and Mrs. Carter Morales

Request your presence at the marriage of their daughter

Rebecca Rosalia Morales,

to Tatum Michael Radosevich

on June 20th

at St. James Catholic Church

Boonsboro, Maryland

"Sorry about that, Archer, I've got this new client who - "

"Where did you get this?"

Rick stared at the wedding invitation in my hand with a slight frown. "One of my previous cases, back when I was working for the District Attorney's office with Hadley's dad, Kenneth. Carter and Irene Morales. They've kept in touch over the years."

I felt the air being sucked from my lungs with great force. The invitation slipped from my grasp and I would have dropped the beer can had I not stumbled forward to grip the counter for support.

"Archer, are you okay?" Rick asked concernedly, coming forward to me. "What's going on?"

I kept waiting for Rick to put two and two together, to figure out why I would've had a reaction to seeing that wedding invitation. And then I realized...

Rick Van Auken only knew me as Archer, the man his partner's daughter married. Rick Van Auken didn't know me as Archer St. Pierre, the son of the man he had tried who had murdered his ex-wife's new husband.

Rick scooped up the invitation off the floor and scanned it over. "Hey, d'you know Carter and Irene? Their last name is Morales, too, maybe you're related?"

I ignored Rick. I did not want to talk to him about Carter and Irene Morales.

I downed the rest of my beer in a few gulps, chucked it in a nearby trash can, and left the kitchen.

"Sorry, Rick, I've got to go."

"Archer, really, tell me what's going on," Rick was saying, following after me as I rushed back through the study, out to the foyer. "Is everything okay? I don't - "

"I should have those proofs to you within a week or so," I said hurriedly as I shoved my feet into my shoes and swung my camera bag over my shoulder. "Thanks for the beer."

I was marching down the front steps out onto the sidewalk before Rick could say anything else. I felt bad for ditching all of a sudden and without a proper explanation - especially after he had been so nice - but I didn't have a choice.

Mr. and Mrs. Morales request your presence tat the marriage of their daughter, Rebecca Rosalia Morales...

I couldn't believe it. I could not believe it.

It had been years since I'd had any contact with Carter and Irene Morales and their daughter Rebecca. They probably didn't even remember me. They probably didn't even remember April, May, and June.

I really thought I was going to throw up.

I was antsy the entire subway ride home, jumpy enough to have several people shoot me glares for accidentially bumping into them. The apartment complex coming into view couldn't come fast enough. I pounded my way up the stairs to the third floor and almost dropped my keys trying to unlock the door from how badly my hands were shaking.

When I burst into the apartment, Hadley shrieked from her place on the couch and threw the book she'd been reading into the air in shock.

"Damn it, Archer!" she gasped, clutching at her chest. "What's wrong with you? You just about gave me a heart attack."

"Sorry, miele. Didn't mean to scare you," I said distractedly, waving a hand over my shoulder as I rushed through to the bedroom.

I was yanking a duffel bag out of the closet and jamming clean clothes into it when Hadley appeared and nervously said, "What's going on? Archer, are you okay?"

"I have to go out of town again."

There was a long, tension filled beat of silence. I looked over to Hadley from grabbing jeans out of the closet.

Her eyes were shimmering with tears, and my gut twisted uncomfortably.

"Why?" she whispered. "Why do you have to leave again?"

"I have to do this," I said, fighting back a heavy sigh.

It wasn't like I was enjoying this. I honestly would rather do anything but go to Boonsboro, Maryland. But it was inevitable. It was another fear I needed to face - one I hadn't even known existed until I'd seen that wedding invitation in Rick Van Auken's kitchen.

"Why?" Hadley repeated, her voice growing louder. "Will you please tell me what's going on?"

I quickly told her a shortened version of what had happened at the Van Auken brownstone while I continued to shove clothes into my duffel bag. I'd added a toothbrush and toothpaste to the duffel bag, ready to go, when I finished telling her the story.

"I don't understand. You're going to visit Chris's parents?" Hadley repeated slowly, confused.

"Not visit," I muttered bitterly, yanking my duffel bag off the bed. "More like interrogate."

"That's why I don't understand! Why do you need to go see them? You've never mentioned anything about Chris's parents!" Hadley exclaimed, following after me again as I headed for the kitchen. "Why is this suddenly so important to you?"

It would have taken too long to explain to her why this trip was going to be just as hard, if not more, than going to USP Canaan. I wanted to tell her everything.

But I couldn't. This was something I needed to do on my own, as quickly as possible.

I didn't know a lot of things, but I knew that this trip was not going to be pleasant. I also knew that no matter how hard I tried to comfort Hadley, to let her know that I was perfectly fine and that it was going to stay that way, she was going to worry regardless.

And as she was almost seven months pregnant, the less things she had to worry about, the better off we would all be.

"Because." I dropped the duffel bag on the kitchen floor and pulled Hadley into my arms, resting my chin on the top of her head. "April, May and June deserve to know their family. All of their family."

Hadley leaned back to stare up at me with a confued look. "You mean..."

I couldn't fight back the harsh sigh this time.

"Yeah. April, May and June have never met their grandparents. Or their aunt. Hell, I don't even know if they know they have relatives on Chris's side."