marriage would just be on paper.” Which—okay, I could admit—had actually hurt a little.
“But you care about him.”
Too much.
“Any feelings I might or might not have don’t matter. This isn’t one of your Christmas romance movies where they fake-marriage themselves out of a conundrum, break into snowball fights, and fall in love. There’s no happy-ever-after here.”
Of course that knowledge hadn’t stopped me from falling for him, anyway.
“Ella, it’s June, there is no snow.”
“You know what I’m talking about.”
“Are you honestly going to sit there and tell me that you’re going to draw a line on what you’re willing to do to keep Maisie alive?”
And there was the kicker.
Shit. What wouldn’t I do for Maisie? With a cool enough head to get some perspective, I knew there wasn’t a line. I’d risk hell and damnation for her. I’d sell my very soul.
Beckett could potentially save Maisie. The only obstacle was my own stubbornness and fear.
But what if there was a way to leave my fear out of the equation? To directly link Beckett to the kids without my baggage getting in the way?
“I guess I have to talk to Beckett.”
…
Colt flew through the front door after practice, flushed and happy. “Hi, Mom!” He was a blur, kissing me on the cheek and then racing up the stairs to his room.
Beckett stood in the doorway, his baseball hat in his hand. His shorts rode low on his hips, and that incredible expanse of abs and chest was covered up with a Pearl Jam concert tee. His eyes widened when he took in my sundress and the bare expanse of my legs, but he quickly looked elsewhere. “He has a game tomorrow, but I know Maisie is supposed to go in for chemo.”
“We’ll leave after the game. She doesn’t start until Monday, and they’ll need to see if her platelet levels are high enough to even do it. The infection screwed up a lot of stuff.”
“Okay, just let me know. I can take him, of course.” He started backing out of the house, and I nearly cursed.
“Thank you. Look, Beckett, about yesterday?”
He stopped, slowly dragging his eyes to mine and keeping them there instead of on my bare shoulders or the sweetheart, strapless neckline I’d chosen just to get his attention. Sure, the dress was old, but at least it still fit.
When it became apparent that he wasn’t going to speak, I forged ahead.
“I trust you with my kids.”
His eyes widened slightly.
“I needed to say that first, for you to know that everything we fought about last night…most of that isn’t about the kids. It’s about me. You’ve done nothing but prove yourself since you got here, and it was wrong of me to ask you to tell me about Ryan when I know it would cost your integrity. Ironic really, right? I was asking you to prove your trustworthiness by breaking your word. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you,” he answered quietly.
“There’s someone I’d like to have dinner with tonight.”
His eyes narrowed.
“With you,” I quickly corrected. “Dinner with you and the someone.”
“You want me to chaperone a date?” His voice dropped to that low, sandpaper-rough tone that woke up my body in parts that had been asleep since Jeff.
“No. I want to meet with my lawyer, and I’m hoping you’ll go with me. About”—I glanced over to where Maisie was napping on the couch—“what you offered yesterday. Kind of.”
Surprise widened his eyes for a second, and I savored the reaction. I didn’t have many opportunities to shock Beckett.
“Kind of?”
Hope flashed in his eyes, catapulting my heart into my throat. “I want to ask some questions first before I say anything. I don’t even know if what I’m thinking about is possible, but I’d be really grateful if you went with me to figure it out.”
“Of course. What time?”
I looked at the clock and then forced a smile. “In about forty-five minutes?”
Instead of scoffing, or snipping that it was too short notice, he simply nodded, saying, “Okay,” and walked out.
I used the time to pack a little for our trip, force Colt into the bathtub, and throw dinner for the kids into the oven. I took Maisie’s temp when she woke up and sighed in relief at the beautiful 98.5 reading as Ada arrived. Then I generally puttered in nervousness before putting on what little makeup I had, which meant a swipe of mascara and a little lip gloss.
Not that this was a date or anything.
Beckett arrived exactly a half hour after he’d departed, his scruff