Inked Obsession (Montgomery Ink Fort Collins #2) - Carrie Ann Ryan Page 0,71

let out a breath. “And you can talk to me. About anything. Everything. You need to talk to someone, Beckett.”

“I know. And I will. I’ve already talked to you more than anyone recently. And that is just sad.”

“You’re doing better.”

“I’m trying.”

“Okay, then we figure out what we want. Slowly. But there’s no promises, other than we don’t hurt each other. I don’t know what I want beyond that, Beckett.”

“Same,” he said, and I didn’t know why it twisted something inside me that we wanted this to be our version of casual. Or maybe it was the promise that couldn’t be broken because there were no deep promises within it other than the care for one another’s feelings.

I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to say. But it didn’t matter. Because I would figure it out. I was a new me. I wasn’t only a window. I was someone figuring out what they wanted in life. I smiled at Beckett, and then something caught my attention out the window.

I blinked, and cold washed over me.

Two people that I knew very well, that never really liked me, walked hand in hand, a little girl at their side along with a striking woman with rose-gold hair that flowed down her back. She laughed at something the little girl said.

Marshall’s parents.

And their granddaughter.

And Natasha.

They were here. In real life. This wasn’t a dream.

They were going into the restaurant I was supposed to go into with Beckett, and nothing made sense. What was that odd ringing sound in my ears? Why couldn’t I breathe?

“Eliza? Eliza.”

“Can you take me home?” I whispered, my voice hollow. I wanted to leave. I wanted to get under my covers and hide. Because it was either that or scream at a woman in front of her child and probably scare everybody within a thirty-mile radius.

Because that was Natasha. The woman my husband had loved. The woman my husband had impregnated and hid from me. That was the woman and the daughter my in-laws loved. And they were going out for a family evening. And here I was, sitting in a car, wondering if I could even make a promise.

“Eliza. Talk to me. Do I need to take you to a hospital? What’s wrong?”

“Please, just take me home. I just need to go.”

He turned to look, his gaze narrowing.

“Is that…?”

“Please. I need to go home.”

“Okay. I’ve got you.” He started the car and reached out and gripped my knee. I held onto his wrist, using him as my lifeline. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.

The little girl was real. I had seen the photos. And Marshall’s parents had told me. My brothers had confirmed. Everybody had told me that the little girl existed, and here she was. And she was so cute. She laughed, and she was old enough to talk and walk and do all those things that real-life human children did.

Marshall’s love child was real.

And she looked so much like him.

Marshall’s parents hadn’t even stopped to think about me. No, I was just the woman standing in the way of everything they had ever wanted. And, somehow, things were supposed to make sense? But they didn’t. Nothing would ever make sense. I would never make sense.

Somehow, in the quiet, we pulled into my driveway, and I staggered out. Beckett was there, holding my hand, and I hoped to God that Annabelle and Jacob weren’t looking outside right now to see me. Maybe they would think I was drunk, and Beckett was walking me inside.

But I was too numb to drink. To numb to do anything.

“Eliza. You’re scaring me. Do I need to get Annabelle?”

I shook my head, my keys falling out of my hand as I tried to unlock the door. He held me around the waist, bent down slightly to pick up the keys, and let us in. He closed the door behind him, the same one we’d just had sex against. I couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Was that Marshall’s…I don’t know what to call her?”

“Yes, that was Marshall’s lover and his child. And his parents. The people he loved but didn’t provide for in the will,” I growled out.

“Eliza.”

“There was nothing in the will, Beckett. Nothing. He was overseas in combat. They constantly redo their wills, and he did nothing for that. He didn’t acknowledge her, and yet maybe he did because he introduced her to his parents. So, what am I? Was he laughing at me every time he looked at me, knowing I would never bear