Chapter 19
Maggie’s excited squeals echo as she swings back and forth on the playscape Beckham put in for her a few weeks ago. The sight of her auburn curls flying through the air and her chubby cheeks warms my heart. The happiness she exudes is everything I imagined for us that night I sat with my notepad, worried if I was going to find a place to live.
Never in my wildest dreams could I have anticipated I’d find a home with Beckham Lawrence. Even more surprising, it hasn’t been nearly as awkward as I expected it would be, considering our tumultuous past.
At first, I was reticent about the idea of him spoiling her more than necessary. But now that we live a good fifteen minutes from Maggie’s favorite park, I caved and let Beckham put in a play area for her. I told myself it was just out of convenience, but I’d be lying if I didn’t tear up a bit from the look on Maggie’s face when she saw the new playscape.
Beckham even took a day off so he could surprise her when she got home from preschool, going so far as to enlist the help of his brothers, Jude and Finn. Since Finn’s on the fire department, he had all the guys who weren’t on shift help, too. What would have taken one person several days to put together was constructed in a matter of hours.
When I hear the familiar sound of tires crunching against dirt, I glance into the distance as Beckham’s truck navigates up the country road toward the house. I do my best to temper the butterflies wanting to take flight in my stomach, something they’ve been doing more and more lately whenever I’m in his presence, despite the rules I put in place.
It doesn’t matter how much I avoid touching him. How much I tell myself this isn’t real. How much I remind myself that he hurt me. My feelings for him are just as strong as they were all those years ago.
Maybe even stronger now that I’ve seen how amazing he is with Maggie. How he treats her as if she were his own.
“Beck! Beck!” Maggie says excitedly, jumping from the swing and running toward him as he heads our way, Monte following close behind, as always.
“Hey, squirt.” He scoops her into his arms and gives her a kiss on the forehead. “How was school today?”
“Good,” Maggie chirps.
“No one gave you any trouble?”
“Nope.”
“You’ll let me know if they do?” He arches a brow.
She gives him an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “Yes, Beck.”
“That’s my girl.”
He gives her another kiss, then sets her on the ground. In a flash, she runs around the yard, Monte chasing after her.
“How was your day?” Beckham asks, pulling my attention to him.
“Good. I finished and delivered another cake.” I beam.
Over the past six weeks, I’ve been able to devote most of my days to experimenting with different cakes and amping up my social media presence.
It’s paid off. People love watching time lapse videos of me building and decorating these cakes, so much so that several of my videos have gone viral.
I’m now getting so many orders that I had to give up my dog-walking job.
All because I finally took a risk.
It helped that I also have access to a decent kitchen now that I’m living with Beckham.
“That’s amazing.” He blows out a laugh. “I still don’t know how you make a cake look like the things you do.”
“Lots of practice,” I reply. “Just like with what you do.”
“I guess so.” A comfortable silence passes between us as we watch Maggie and Monte play together. Then he says, “I talked to Grady.”
I dart my eyes toward him. “You did?”
“Yeah.”
His expression falls, and I fully expect for him to tell me it’s over. That we went through all of this for nothing.
“He’s agreed to sell to me, pending everything checking out. Even pissed off some corporate prick in a suit by refusing to accept his obscene offer.”
My entire body relaxes with relief. “That’s incredible. I’m so happy for you.”
I’m about to wrap my arms around him, but stop myself, remembering the rules we have in place.
But as I survey his demeanor, I sense something’s off. He just told me Grady’s going to sell him the vineyard, yet he looks like someone just informed him his dog died.
“What’s wrong? I thought you’d be over the moon. This is what you’ve always wanted.”
“I know.” He briefly squeezes his eyes shut. When he returns them to mine, they’re conflicted. “I just… I should have asked him earlier. Or known. But the sale won’t be finalized until after this year’s harvest, since it’s his thirtieth. Harvest goes August through October.”
“So that means…”
“If we stick to our original agreement, we’d need to stay married until at least April. Possibly May.”
“Oh.” My shoulders fall as I peer into the distance, Maggie and Monte zooming around the yard in a blur.
While I feared Beckham was about to tell me it was all over and we got married for nothing, I’m not sure how to feel about this, either. Not sure how to feel about staying married until May. At that point, we’ll have been married for over a year.
Over a year of watching him play with Maggie.
Over a year of sharing a bed with him.
Over a year of reminding myself it’s not real — even though a part of me still wishes it could be, despite all the past hurt.
“We could end things earlier,” Beckham suggests when I don’t immediately respond. “I’m worried what Grady might think if we split right after the sale goes through. After everything he did for me, I don’t want him to know the truth. I want him to be able to retire thinking I’m happily married.”
I bring my eyes back to his. “Then we’ll stay married.”
“Are you sure?” He narrows his gaze on me.
“What’s a few more months? Plus, look on the bright side,” I say in a chipper voice. “He’s going to sell to you. You’re getting the vineyard. If you ask me, that’s something worth celebrating.”
He studies me for several long moments, his brows furrowed. “How do you do it?” he asks softly, almost as if to himself.
“Do what?”
“Always remain so positive.” He glances at my leg, regret and guilt flickering across his features.
I want to tell him what happened to me all those years ago isn’t his fault. That I don’t blame him. That I’ve never blamed him. But we’ve gone this long without talking about the giant elephant in the room. Why change things now?
“Maybe Parker’s influence is rubbing off on me,” I respond with a laugh, breaking through the tension. “After all, I manifested a solution to my living situation. While I didn’t foresee this exact scenario being the solution, I think it’s working out. Being married to you isn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”
“Likewise, Hales.” He gently nudges me.
When he does, a jolt of electricity shoots through me. It’s the first time any part of his body has been in contact with any part of mine in over six weeks. Ever since I made him sign that contract, we’ve both kept our distance, probably obsessively so.
But when I see the flash of desire in Beckham’s gaze, I can’t help but wonder if we’re just setting ourselves up for failure by having these rules. That by denying ourselves of any touch, we’re making it more inevitable we’ll both crack.
And when we do, it’ll be with such force I won’t be able to put all my pieces back together again.
That’s the kind of power Beckham Lawrence has over me.
That he’s always had over me, even if I’ve tried to forget him.
Forget us.
“We should go celebrate,” I suggest, tearing my gaze from his before I do something I’ll regret. “Or you can go celebrate with your brothers. It’s not every day you buy a vineyard, after all.”
“That’s a good idea.”
“Great. I’ll take care of feeding Monte dinner so you can?—”
“I meant us. I’d like for us to celebrate. None of this would have been possible without you. Hell, after the way I’ve treated you the past several years, you had every right to slam the door in my face when I came to you with my proposal.”
“Beckham…” I sigh, a lump lodging in my throat.
“But I’m grateful you didn’t.” He flashes me his panty-melting smile that still affects me like it did when we were reckless teenagers. “What do you say? Are you up for a night on the town as a family?”
Despite every voice in my head telling me this is a bad idea, I can’t seem to find the words to deny Beckham.
Some things never change, I suppose.
“I’d like that.”