Chapter Thirty-four
Daisy-Mae
In the morning, we stay at West’s instead of going to the main house for breakfast. I don’t feel up to banter and conversation today.
I chose to sleep in and cuddle in bed with my baby.
This lazy morning with Waylon is the most whole I’ve felt in a long time, and I’m not sure what that says about my marriage.
Eddie made choices I would never make, especially not when it involved our son.
He put my baby at risk, and I’ll never forgive him for that, but he didn’t deserve to die.
I’m sad for my son, because Waylon won’t ever get the chance to know his father, though maybe that’s for the best. Maybe all Waylon needs is a man who shows up for him, who loves him, and treats him like his own, regardless of DNA.
West is still refusing to leave me unprotected after what happened with Eddie, and then Buck. Though he does give me the illusion of space by tending to the property around his house and playing with Ham in the yard—who is probably feeling neglected since Waylon and I moved in.
West’s family drop off meals and condolences, but he does a good job of keeping them away from disturbing me and Waylon.
I feel guilty, and I should just leave the room and have coffee with them, but I’m so tired from the last twenty-four hours.
I ache all over from last night, and I have sore muscles that I didn’t even know I had.
So, I do what I’ve never been afforded as a grown-ass adult woman, I stay in bed and sulk.
I might not be up for visiting, but company finds me around noon when my phone lights up with Hadley’s face. I answer on the second ring, because I know this is a conversation I need to have.
“Daisy,” her voice is choked down the line. “I’m so sorry.”
I burst into tears. “I miss you.”
“I miss you too. What the hell happened?”
“I don’t know.” I sniff. I couldn’t tell my best friend about Eddie leading his thug friends to my house for the deed, not without risking West and his whole family’s involvement, my involvement.
I hadn’t told her anything about that night, other than a pipe burst in my bathroom that flooded the entire house.
As far as she knew, that was the reason for staying at West’s.
“My guess is he was in with some shady people.”
“Oh, Dais.”
“I’m okay,” I say with more conviction than I feel. “Or I will be. We’ve been over a long time. Now I just want to move forward with my life.”
“As you should. Just remember, I’m only a phone call away.”
“And about four hours in my vehicle, I know.”
“Sooo,” she says, her voice taking on a teasing tone. “How’s life with the cowboy?”
The situation with Eddie wasn’t the only topic I was tight-lipped about. I’d kept secrets about what was happening romantically between West and I too, because I was frightened that talking about it would jinx us in some way. But it was time to come clean.
I chuckle. “Only you would call me and offer condolences about my dead husband and ask about my sex life in the same breath.”
“Does that mean there is a sex life to speak of?”
“Oh my god, Hadley. He is—”
“What, what? Big? Good? Big?” She squeals like a little kid, as if she was trying to contain her excitement this whole time.
That has me chortling so loud, I wake Waylon beside me. “He is everything.” Putting the call on speaker, I pick up my son, and pat him back to sleep. “I never knew it could be like this. Not with another person.”
“Aww, he’s good then.” She sounds like she’s tearing up again. “Daisy, I’m so happy for you.”
“Now hold on,” I say, conspiratorially. “I didn’t say he wasn’t big.”
She gasps. “Well, now I need every detail. When did this start? I mean, I know you’ve had a thing for him forever but—”
“I have not had a thing.” I set the baby down in his bassinet and gently rock the base with my foot.
“Honey, half of Red River Canyon has a thing. At this point, you’d have to be dead not to have a thing.”
West throws open the bedroom door, clearly drawn by my earlier shrieking laughter. His brows are raised in a question, and I wave him off and cover the mouthpiece as I whisper, “Hadley”.
He nods. Hadley continues, oblivious to my lack of attention. “I mean sure he’s an asshole—apparently to everyone who isn’t named Daisy-Mae—but you’ve always had a thing, and if he’s big too—”
“Oh my god you need to stop talking,” I blurt, my cheeks flaming beet red.
There’s silence for a moment, and then she says, “He’s there with you right now, isn’t he?”
“Yep.”
“And he heard every word?”
“Every. One,” West says. “Though maybe you can clear up the ‘always had a thing’ for me.”
“Gee, look at the time. Hadley, I really have to be going.” I say, my gaze shooting daggers at West.
“Listen, I’m coming home for the funeral.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I say quietly. Am I going to hell for forgetting that my ex-husband was murdered, even for just a brief few minutes? Probably. But I’ve cried so many damn tears over that man that I’m not sure he deserves to steal any more of my happiness, even in death.
“Yes, I do. Just tell me when, okay?”
I nod, though I know she can’t see me. “I’ll let you know once I have the details.”
“Love you, Dais.”
“I love you too,” I say and end the call. I chew my lip as I stare at West’s smug face. Those normally cool blue eyes are bright and playful, something I don’t see all that often.
“Always had a thing for me, huh?”
I roll my eyes. “As if you didn’t know.”
“I was such an idiot.” He shakes his head. “I had no fucking clue.”
“Would things have been different if you had?”
“Yeah, they absolutely would have been.”
I smile sweetly and say, “Well, you know now. So, what are you going to do about it?”
He crawls up the bed and pins me underneath him. His hips settle between my legs, heavy cock hard and straining against his jeans. “I don’t plan on wasting a second more.”
***
After a long shower to clean up—where we wound up even more dirty—West, Waylon, and I enjoy a little tummy time on his playmat.
I stroke the downy soft hair on the nape of his baby neck and marvel at his eyes growing sleepy again.
My phone rings, startling Waylon. His little arms flail and his face turns red as he cries.
“I got him.” West swoops him up and rocks him gently.
I grab my phone and look at the number on the screen. It’s a Dallas area code, but it’s not Hadley.
“Hello?”
“Mrs. Buchannan?”
“Yes. Who is this?”
“I’m Santiago Garcia, your husband’s lawyer. Is there a time we could meet?”
Oh god. What mess has Eddie left me with now? “Mr. Garcia, I don’t have any money. Eddie walked out on me when I was pregnant with his son. I have a newborn, and I can barely keep the roof over my head. I can’t settle his debts.”
“Mrs. Buchannan, you’ve got the wrong idea. I’m contacting you because you’re named as the sole beneficiary in Mr. Buchannan’s will.”
“The beneficiary of what? Eddie had no money.”
“Actually, he had a large sum tied up in his estate. He also named you the sole beneficiary of his life insurance policy, payable upon his death.” Life insurance? Eddie refused to pay for proper health insurance. When did he take out a policy?
“What is his estate worth?”
“I’d really prefer to do this in person, Mrs. Buchannan. Are you able to come into the firm?”
“I have a newborn, Mr. Garcia. I can’t drive all the way to Dallas with a newborn. Just tell me what it’s worth, please?”
“I understand. This is not normally the way we do things, but given the circumstances, I don’t mind having this conversation over the phone. Mr. Buchannan’s wealth was tied up in investments and a small property portfolio. There’s the house in Red River Canyon.”
“My house,” I say sharply, my nostrils flaring. How dare he walk out on us, leave me penniless and breaking my back just to hold onto that property, and then list it as one of his “assets”. “Eddie stopped paying the mortgage on our house the day he ran off with his secretary.”
“Forgive me, Mrs. Buchannan. The sum of his estate, as well as the life insurance policy is valued at around four million dollars.”
“Four ... what?” I suddenly feel a little dizzy, and I flop back against the leg of the couch.
“Do you have a lawyer I can send the documents to?”
“No. I ... not yet. I-I think I just imagined you saying that Eddie’s estate is worth—”
“Four million, yes. Obviously, there are some legal fees to take care of and there’s the matter of some small debts, but your husband was determined to provide for you and your son.”
“Do we know the same, Eddie?”
“I suggest you hire a lawyer, Mrs. Buchannan. Eddie stated in his will that all assets should go to you, including the life insurance policy. However, insurance funds can be notoriously problematic when they know a recipient is without proper legal representation. I’ll send a copy of your documents and some recommendations for lawyers more central to your location via your email. ”
It takes me a beat to find my voice. All of this has to be some kind of cruel joke, right? “O-okay.”
“I’m sorry for your loss, ma’am.”
“Th-thank you.” I let the phone fall from my hands. It bounces onto the plush rug, and I stare at it as if I just hallucinated that entire conversation.
“Dais,” West says, cradling my sleeping newborn son. Eddie’s son. “Everything okay?”
I shake my head and burst into tears. “No. I’m not ... I’m really not okay.”