When I thought about it, I'd never seen a photo of mom and I together, when I was a newborn. I'd seen photos of myself quite fresh and pink. But there were  none of her holding me until I was about five months old. I'd never given it much thought before, never had a reason to. But now it made a whole lot of sense.

Of course, being in this cell, which was off white brick with with a faint scent of vomit, but no vomit to be seen, gave me a lot of time to think. Right at this moment in life, too much thinking was going to have me throwing my head at a brick wall. Plenty of that around.

As much as I wanted to switch off the what if's, they wouldn't let up. Cursed with over thinking, my mind had been asking the same questions over and over again. What if this Emory woman hadn't died? What if one of her family members had stepped in and raised me? What if mom had been honest from the beginning? What if mom had left Kevin, taken me and raised me alone?

That was the one that I dwelled on the most. Which surprised me, I thought that I would have been stuck on the fact that the woman who gave birth to me, had died. Shouldn't I have wanted to know more about her. But for the most part, I couldn't help but feel distaste over the fact that she'd been sleeping with Kevin while he was in a relationship, she tried to ruin their marriage. And that made me defensive of mom.

The one thing that did upset me about the entire situation was that mom didn't leave Kevin. We would have been so much happier without him. But perhaps she felt like she didn't have the right to do that, considering I was his 'real' daughter. Ugh. I wished and hoped that she hadn't had that mindset because she was my real mom and no amount of DNA could change that.

The cot mattress that I was sitting on, made me feel gross. How many other detainees had sat on this mattress? Perhaps soiled it with piss and vomit. There might have been some drunk hooligan in here before me, drunk people are the worst— I would know — he might have rubbed his balls on this mattress. Might have thrown up on it. Perhaps he'd passed out and pissed himself.

I stood up and leaned against the wall, the back of my head resting on the cold painted brick. The only form of entertainment that I had was my own colourful imagination and the occasional heads that wandered past the little window at the top of the cell door. I'd counted eighty three so far. There was a definite possibility that some of those people had walked past more than once, but after a while, features blurred and I didn't pay attention to more than their passing.

Time was the other thing that I'd lost the hang of. But it had been hours, that much I knew.

I was humming to the tune of Jailhouse Rock when another two heads wandered past the cell window. Eighty five. I exhaled a long breath, disappointment coursing through me for the eighty fifth time. Yep, whenever someone walked past, I was desperately hoping that it was time for me to go home. But, I mean, I was in here for assault. It could be a while before I was released.

But then, the sound of a beep and a whir echoed in the cell as the electronic locks opened and the door slid to the left. The odds of Phoenix working in this precinct shouldn't have surprised me, but I still stared with shock when he folded his arms, leaned on the door jamb and watched me with an amused grin.

"I thought that was you," he pursed his lips and I took the chance to stare at his unreal biceps stretching the seams of his shirt sleeves. We're never going to be together, I might as well have a peep. "I'm going to guess that this is real? Unless you're on a date and this is another pretend arrest?"

I sighed. "Real. I threw some douchebag off a bridge."

He stared.

"He's fine. Just a broken leg."

He still stared.

"He was hurting his girlfriend," I leaned off the wall and threw my arms open. "He deserved it."

He ran a hand across his jaw, hiding his mouth while he tried to smother a smile.

"You alright?" He stood up straight and slid his phone out of his belt, reading the screen. "Warm enough?"

The officer that arrested me had given me a pair of powder blue sweat pants and a hoodie because of how wet my suit was. I was far more comfortable in this anyway, even if it was ten sizes too big. I nodded and sat back down on the cot, swinging my legs.

Phoenix, with his long lash framed eyes, looked up and waited for me to answer him, I realised that he hadn't been watching when I nodded. "Yeah," I said. "I'm as good as I can be considering I'm in jail."

He laughed and stepped backward out of the cell. "I'll be back in a minute."

The door closed again and the same electronic whir and whirl was loud and somewhat disappointing. Perhaps I should have plotted some sort of escape as soon as he opened the door. Slid across the ground and kicked out his ankle so that I could make a run for it. Seduce him into letting me g— Yeah that wasn't happening in this oversized sweat suit. Although, he did ask me out when I was balls deep in an emotional breakdown.

Ugh. I paced back and forth, did about four squats before I decided that was enough for one evening, or morning, surely it was daylight out by now and I also managed to count one hundred and sixty eight strands of hair on my head before I heard the door opening again. Back in a minute my ass.

"You want a ride home?" Phoenix stood at the door, a sheet of paper in one hand and a plastic bag full of my clothes and personal items in the other. This must have been some sort of joke.

"What?"

"Come on," he gestured his head and disappeared. There was no chance that I was missing the chance to leave, so when the door didn't close, I ran out and followed Phoenix through a well lit corridor illuminated with harsh fluorescent bulbs, too bright white walls and more cell doors where detainees watched through their windows.

It was quiet between us as we went through thick doors that required swipe keys to unlock. It wasn't long before we were stepping out into freezing cold parking lot that was lined with police cruisers and several unmarked cars too. The sun was up but from the blinding light that bounced off the frozen puddles on the ground, I knew it was early.

We'd made it this far, but I was still skeptical and as soon as I'd slid into the passenger seat in his car— which no longer had a massive dent in the door — I twisted and stared at him.

"What's going on? How come I was just allowed to leave? I don't want special treatment or privilege or whatever."

He handed me the plastic bag before slipping his keys into the ignition. "Bea, I wouldn't just let you leave. We're friends but I take my job seriously."

"Well that's good to know."

"Your paperwork had been complete and waiting for a sign off for about two hours. The bridge dude decided not to press charges. He is in hospital though. Want to swing past and apologise?"

"Two hours?!" My voice bounced off the leather interior and enhanced the distress in my voice. "I was sitting there for two unnecessary hours?! And no of course I don't want to apologise to that abuser. I hope he has a limp for the rest of his life."

Phoenix tried but failed to hide his amusement as he started the car and backed out of the parking space. I had a feeling that he was at war with professionalism and wanting to agree with me. He seemed like the sort of man that wouldn't stand for domestic violence and that had nothing to do with the fact that he was an officer. It was just a feeling.

"Yeah, look," he settled into his seat, one hand on the wheel, the other on his thigh. "It gets a bit hectic at the station so processing can take a while. You'd have been there a lot longer if the man had decided to press charges."

"Don't call him a man. He's an infection."

"Right. Sorry. If the infection had pressed charges, you could have been there a lot longer."

"Well thanks. I appreciate it. How's your daughter, Gracie? That was her name, right?"

"Yeah," he answered, slowing for a red light. "She's good. I actually have to go and get her after this. It's her weekend with me."

As hard as it was to imagine this gorgeous man being the father to a nine year old child, I couldn't help but swoon at the thought of he and his little girl sharing stories, watching movies together, reading, playing at the park. Father, daughter relationships were gorgeous when the man cared enough to be actively present in her life. Even if parents were still married, dads could be absent and I had a fundamental belief that girls benefited from the good example their fathers set.

"Can I come?"

Phoenix looked at me, fast, before he stared out of the windshield again and adjusted his hand on the steering wheel. "To pick up Gracie?"

"Yeah. I mean, I don't have to but I'm curious. You can say no."

He swallowed, I watched the prominent bop in his throat and the clench in his jaw. "I um— I have to ask her mother first."

"I mean, we're not dating. We're just— friends I guess."

"No, I know," he laughed but his shoulders were still rigid. "But I still need to ask."

So I listened and kept quiet while he used the hands free to phone his ex girlfriend, whose name was Isla, and explain the situation. Which sounded sort of weird when he said it out loud. "Hey, Isla. I've got a friend with me, she spent the night in the cells so I'm giving her a ride home but she wants to meet Gracie. Is it alright if she's here when I swing past and pick her up. No we're not dating, she's— with someone else. The cells? Oh it was just a miscommunication. She hadn't done what Roger thought she'd done."

To be fair, I understood why he lied. Without knowing me or the context of the situation, telling her that I was in for assault might not have been the best first impression. She said that it was fine if I was in the car when Phoenix picked up Gracie so I clapped with excitement and settled in for the ride across the bridge. Phoenix seemed surprised that I wasn't in a rush to get home after spending the night in a semi sanitary cell and all I could tell him was that I'd socialised under worse conditions.

I mean, there was that one time that I spent about six hours in a strip club, went home with one of the 'firefighters' threw up in my own hair, lost my underwear and then fell down a flight of stairs only to show up at a College mixers without going home first because I was late enough as it was. I guess I'm just a roll with the punches sort of person. No one told me that I stunk like the tip of an STD swab. But I know that I did.

We pulled up in front of a row of houses on the edge of Brooklyn and the front door of a pale blue house swung open. All of the homes were compact, close together with little concrete steps and steel rails that led up to the front door. They were nice homes though. Clean and well painted with large windows and peaked rooftops.

The woman at the threshold was still wrapped in a robe. It was Saturday morning so I couldn't blame her. She was gorgeous, soft features, bronze skin and a pale gaze that was somehow warm and welcoming. She waved, so I lifted a hand, fingers peeping from the sleeve of the sweater and waved back.

"I'll be back in a minute," Phoenix said and hopped out of the car. Before he'd even made it to the front door, a girl appeared beside Isla and bounced up and down with excitement. And I mean, bounced. She had dark braids that were swept up on top of her head, darker skin like her mother and tall height like her father. But the part that had me leaning forward, curious and awestruck was the sign language going on.

She was fast, her hands slicing through the air, her smile radiant when Phoenix lifted his hands and responded.  She was deaf.

"Fuck," I said, breathing on the window and creating a circle of condensation. All of a sudden it seemed super important that I knew the sign for hello, at the least and I couldn't believe that I had come this far in life and knew not one fucking thing about the language.

The three of them chatted for a few minutes and the entire time, Gracie couldn't stop moving. She was so. . . elated. As if she hadn't seen her dad in forever, but I did notice that she kept her head down for the most part. Phoenix could have warned me so that I knew what I was in for. But it occurred to me, that perhaps he preferred to consider his daughter just a regular girl and not dwell or linger on the fact that she was hearing impaired. Which was fair enough.

Gracie slid into the backseat, Phoenix into the drivers side and I sat, hands in lap, nerves hidden behind a smile as he held the steering wheel and twisted in his seat. "Bea, this is Gracie," he looked at his daughter and signed the other half of the introduction. She grinned and now that she was closer, I could see her dimples, the deep curve in her nose and the deep set of her eyes. She looked like Phoenix.

"How do I say hello?" I said to Phoenix. He used his hands and showed me. It was super simple. Almost a salute.

Gracie returned it and then she looked at her dad and started signing rather fast again. He laughed and shook his head when she was done. As he turned around and started the car, he held his hand up for her to see and pinched his middle and index finger to his thumb.

"What does that mean?"

"It means no," he laughed again and pulled out from the curb.

"What did she ask?"

"If you were my girlfriend."

I laughed as well and peeped back at her. But she had her head down, her focus on a small squishy ball that I didn't notice before. Her fingers were kneeding it and she had her tongue between her taupe lips.

"Gracie has high functioning autism," Phoenix suddenly said and I swivelled back around so that I wasn't staring at his daughter.

"Sorry, can you explain what high functioning means?"

"She's not intellectually disabled, she's just a little more sensitive than other children, I suppose. She's quite blunt but most people don't know that because most people don't understand what she's signing. She doesn't like crowded spaces, but obviously noise doesn't bother her. Basically over stimulation, too much, too fast, is going to upset her. But otherwise, she's a sweet, awesome kid."

"I can tell," I smiled, and had another peep behind me. She was still clutching her stress ball. I guess that the world rushing past her window counted as too much, too fast.

"Can I ask you something that might be kind of insensitive but I'm sort of dying to know."

He laughed, it was light and a touch strained, as if he was bracing himself. "Go ahead."

"You said that you didn't want Gracie to grow up with her parents arguing all the time. But she can't hear. So, was that the real reason for the split?"

He exhaled and his hands tightened around the steering wheel.

"You don't have to answer."

"Gracies mom had an affair," he murmured, I froze with disbelief. "With Gracie's specialist."

"Shit," I breathed. After all I had learned in the past twenty four hours, that particular piece of news was a bit more infuriating than it ought to be. And it was disgraceful under most circumstances.

"You know, after a while, I understood why it happened," he said after a beat. "I was emotionally distant and I went out a lot because I thought that I needed to have a life outside of the one that I was living at home. I thought that was how I could cope with the pressure of raising a disabled daughter. But to be honest, the affair was a major wake up call that I needed to do better."

"Better?"

"More hands on. More appreciative of what I did have rather than what I didn't. More understanding and attentive. Better."

"So did you try and win her back after you had figured all of that out?"

"No. She's still with the specialist. They're married and happy and I'm happy for her. You know? We're doing well as co parents and I respect her, she's the mother of my child but I don't love her like that anymore. I just love her enough to appreciate how well she's doing for herself."

I let out a low whistle. "You are such a saint."

"Not always. I beat the shit out of the specialist after I found out about the affair."

"Wait, What?! How did you become a cop with that sort of charge?"

"He never reported it. Never turned me in. He said that he understood my anger and there was no point ruining my life just because he got what he deserved."

"Wow."

"Yeah I think that was another reason that I was able to make such a turn around. I'd been given this second chance and shown forgiveness for something he didn't have to forgive me for and it helped me let go of a lot of anger. That's for sure."

When we arrived at Megan's apartment building, I unbuckled the seat belt and snatched up the plastic bag that had the suit in it. Megan's suit. Which was covered in dirt and self loathing. I would have to replace it for her because you can't wash shame out of fabric. But I doubt that she'd be upset.

"Well thanks for introducing me to Gracie," I said and looked back to find that she was watching what was going on outside, her gaze was cautious but curious and I noticed that her legs were crossed and she was squirming in her seat. "I think she might—"

Before I could finish the sentence, she peered at her dad with panic and started signing.

Phoenix sighed and he looked like such a dad doing it. Which was hot as hell. Odd how I could appreciate how fine he looked in his uniform with that exasperated parental expression and still know that the only man I could ever want was flipping steaks in an apron. Well, no, eggs. It was breakfast time after all.

"She needs to use the toilet."

"Bring her upstairs," I said, waving at the building.

"Are you sure?"

"Uh. Yes. She needs to wee, Phoenix. Don't make her wait."

He communicated the plan with Gracie and she looked relieved. She kept her head down as we went into the building but visibly relaxed once we were inside the elevator. I'd heard of Autism before but I couldn't recall meeting someone with it. Or if I had, they might have been high functioning as she was and it wouldn't have been obvious. I wasn't sure of the different terms but I did know that the severity could vary from person to person.

As soon as I opened the apartment door, Megan stood up from the kitchen table with her phone in one hand and her chest was being clutched with the other. Panic swallowed me whole when I saw what a mess she was, tears, snot, her hair in a mess.

"Bea!" She snapped. "Where the hell have you been?!"

Before I could answer, I was pulled into a forceful hug. It wasn't the right time to notice, but I could feel her little bump between us. Her tank top was tight so it made it obvious but I didn't dwell on all of that and instead leaned back so that I could give her a puzzled look.

"You didn't come home last night," she wiped at her nose and stammered over her words. "I couldn't sleep! You didn't answer your phone or call me and you never showed up. Allie didn't answer her phone until about five minutes ago and she said she'd ring around. I was so fucking worried! You can't just— you can't just disappear and not let me know what's going on. I thought something had happened."

My shock had to have been evident, there was no chance that my jaw wasn't on the floor. It had been a long fucking time since someone cared enough to demand my whereabouts. I mean, Dylan would ring in and check on me if I'd been quiet for a while, but we didn't live together, so he'd have never known if I was 'missing.' Kevin never, ever, cared whether I was at home or gone for a week straight. The fact that someone might be worried about me, never occurred.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled and pulled her back in for another cuddle because she was still blubbering. "I'm— I'm not used to letting people know where I am. Im really sorry."

It was quiet for a moment and then she whispered. "Who's the hot cop standing behind you?"

We parted and I turned around to find Phoenix standing there, hands in his pockets, attention on the bathroom door where I assumed Gracie must have been. She emerged before I could begin introductions and she looked a lot more comfortable than she had in the car.

"Megan, this is Phoenix," I gestured a hand between them. "Phoenix this is Megan. My wife and the mother of my sister."

His brows shot up.

"Kidding. She's just the mother of my sister."

Megan folded her arms. "Do you have to keep introducing me to people like that?"

"Yes."

Phoenix extended his hand and I could see the travel of his gaze moving over her, and not lingering on her small bump, but softly caressing her sweet features with his innocent interest. Not that I blamed him, she was a tall glass of milk. Or honey. She was honey and he totally wanted to be her lemon tea.

"This is his daughter," I said to Megan as Grace came back and stood beside her father, she was grinning again, peering between us but I noticed how tight her grin was and perhaps she was more nervous than she was letting on. "This is Gracie."

Phoenix signed introductions and I recoiled with shock when Megan started signing back. And not a simple hello, but a phrase of some sort. She was fluent and fast and Gracie seemed thrilled to answer her. It seemed that I was the only one who was astonished. Phoenix was looking at Megan as if he was about to get down on one knee.

"You know sign?" I gaped.

"Of course I know sign," she tells me like I'm an idiot for not being able to communicate with my hands. "It's a skill set that I've had to refer to quite a few times since I've been working. It's so useful to know."

"Well shit," I held up my hands in surrender and started backing toward the bathroom. It was high time to shower and scrub the big house off me. I'd probably keep the sweat suit and wear it for the rest of my life though. It was comfortable. "I'll leave the scholars to it. Smarties."

"Wait," she tugged on the bottom of her shorts as she turned around to face me. "You didn't tell me where you were last night? Did you guys— um— are you—"

"No," I laughed, catching on to the fact that she thought I was sleeping with Phoenix. I should have been. Sigh. Never mind. I gestured at the blue sweat suit and waved the plastic bag before I dropped it on the couch. "Phoenix offered me a ride home after I was released from jail this morning."

"Jail?! You were arrested?!"

"I'm going to shower. Put the kettle on, ta babe."

"Bea?!"