furthest thing from being funny. How dare he? “Stop it or I’ll—”
“You’ll what? Punch me?”
“Yes! I will.”
“English, calm down for a minute. Think about it. Tristian is a good man. You might not even be standing here without him.”
Jesus, when he put it like that, I shuddered. I went to the kitchen.
“Where are you going?”
“I need some lavender tea,” I said. “You’re stressing me out.” He followed me and asked for a cup too. “Only if you behave.”
“You sound exactly like your mother.”
“She raised me right.”
“And I didn’t help?”
He looked indignant but also slightly pitiful, so I said, “Of course you did. You’re my hero, except when you come up with these outlandish ideas.”
He hugged me to his broad chest. “It’s not outlandish. It worked beautifully for your mother and me. Just listen. You two are both bright and everyone needs some spark in a relationship. I see that in you two. Easton hasn’t scared him off either.”
Dad was right about that. Tristian still wanted to take me to dinner, even after Easton’s interrogation. But dinner was one thing. Marriage? Another.
“I’d have a better chance of flying to the moon than of Tristian marrying me.”
“What makes you say that?” Dad asked, watching me pour the cups of tea.
“Just a feeling I get. He’s not the marrying kind, and to be honest, I’m not sure I am.”
“Fine. You don’t have to be. It can be a temporary thing until Easton is twelve. That’s the age the court allows the child to decide which parent she wants to live with.”
Then I tossed him the biggest obstacle of all. “And what if we go through with this farce, and end up divorcing? Say Tristian does the adoption thing and ends up mighty close to Easton. What happens then if he wants partial custody of her?”
Dad aimed his finger at me. “Dammit, English, you have an answer for everything.”
“Damn right I do when it comes to my child.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Tristian
That harebrained scheme of Stanton’s imbedded itself into my brain. It was all I thought about for the next week.
Beck informed me of Stuart’s arrest. The fool had broken the order of protection by going to English’s. Good thing he’d been arrested. I shuddered when I thought of what could’ve happened to her. That asshole was stupidly persistent.
Beck was making it very easy for English and I to work together. It almost seemed he was pushing us closer. He put us on projects that seemed odd for both of us.
“Dad, why do you need me to go with Tristian on this?” English asked. “I have a lot of editing to do.”
“Because I need your perspective.” He walked out and didn’t give either of us another opportunity to ask questions. We looked at each other and shrugged.
“Let’s go,” I said. It was for a shoot downtown on a new building that had just been completed. The investment broker wanted a photoshoot for an upcoming feature in one of the real estate magazines. It would help sell office space. This was a minor job for Beck that he’d passed down to me. I enjoyed this type of photography, but was more interested in getting away from metro shoots and on to other things.
On the way over, English said, “Sorry Dad made me tag along. My perspective isn’t going to help much. You’re the experienced one, not me.”
“I disagree. You’re great when it comes to lighting and angles. I’ll shoot and then show you what I have. We can sort of edit along the way.”
“You mean get different shots to make the editing easier,” she said. I laughed. “Thanks for being so easy to work with on this.”
The building was incredible. Modern architecture could be stark and sometimes too severe for my taste, but this building, even though it was glass and steel, had added elements of nature. They had somehow woven into the glass a vine of green, giving the appearance of green leaves resembling ivy. It twisted within and looked ethereal. The pictures brought the building to life and the building gave the downtown a spark of futuristic modernity that didn’t seem outlandish or gaudy in any way.
The job took the rest of the day and we were riding back to the office when I said, “I’m sorry about Stuart paying you another visit.”
“Dad told you?”
“He did. I was shocked to hear that idiot did something so stupid after going to jail.”
“Honestly, I’m glad he did.”
My voice carried a warning tone. “English, he could’ve hurt you.”
“I know.