Chapter 20
The sun warms my face as we sit on the back patio of Jude’s brewery in the historic district of downtown Sycamore Falls. Now that it’s spring and the weather’s warming up, quite a few other people have gotten the same idea, the outside area filled with locals and tourists trying a few of Jude’s microbrews while their kids play on the playground he put in a few years ago.
“To Beckham,” Finn says, lifting his pint glass.
“To Beckham.” We all join his brother, and I meet Beckham’s eyes from across the table.
Despite the fact that he’s surrounded by all his siblings, apart from his oldest brother, his eyes are still focused on me. I tell myself it’s only an act. That the only reason he’s looking at me this way is because we’re in public and everyone is supposed to think we’re married, especially his mother, Danielle, who also joined us.
He’s certainly not looking at me with a heated stare because he wants to.
“How are the kids doing, all things considered?” I ask her as I tear my eyes from Beckham and take a long sip from my beer.
With the summer months fast approaching, Jude’s been serving some of his fruit-inspired beers, including his signature blueberry lager, which is also my favorite.
“They’re adjusting. The baby’s a piece of cake.”
She nods toward Finn as he bounces Jeremiah in his lap, which has probably caused every woman’s ovaries to burst. As if seeing three of the four Lawrence brothers sitting at the same table isn’t enough of a sight to behold. One thing is certain. The Lawrence family has incredible genes. But despite how attractive Jude, Finn, and even Hayden are, all of them with similar coloring and build as Beckham, there’s something about the second oldest Lawrence brother I’ll always be drawn to.
“It’s not that he doesn’t remember his mother,” Danielle continues, “but it’s not as difficult for him since he’s so young. There are moments you can tell he misses her, but those are becoming fewer as time passes.”
“And Presley?”
She blows out a sigh, looking over at the playground where Maggie is currently playing with the long and lean brunette little girl.
“She still hasn’t spoken. I keep telling Hayden that he can’t avoid this forever.” She brings her water up to her mouth and takes a sip. “I understand he needs to work a lot now that he’s taking over the medical practice here in town. But it seems like he’s putting in more hours than necessary so he doesn’t have to face this new reality of life without his wife.”
“It can’t be easy,” I offer.
“I’m not saying it should be,” she says sweetly before leaning toward me and dropping her voice. “I think it would help both of them if he were more present. They just lost their mom. And now their father is barely around.” She shifts her attention to her granddaughter as she follows Maggie. “But I think Maggie’s been good for Presley, especially since they’re so close in age.”
“She loves making friends,” I remark, my heart warming at how kind and accepting Maggie is.
After she first met Presley, she’d asked if she was deaf and that’s why she didn’t talk. I explained the situation the best I could. Unlike other kids, she didn’t get frustrated that Presley wouldn’t talk to her. Instead, she shrugged and said maybe she would when she finally had something to say.
“She’s been good for Beckham, too,” Danielle offers.
“She adores him.”
“He hasn’t always had it easy, as you know.”
I respond with a barely imperceptible nod. I’m more than aware of Beckham’s somewhat troubled past.
“His father’s diagnosis was especially tough on him,” she says as she peers into the distance, a nostalgic gleam in her eyes. “Beckham and Rowan had such a special bond.”
“I remember,” I say quietly, swallowing hard.
Every time I saw them together when I was a kid, I couldn’t help but be jealous. I think that’s why I was often standoffish and rude to him as a young girl. My parents never played with me like Beckham’s parents did. Most of the time, my parents couldn’t be bothered to even acknowledge me, unless it was to order me around.
“When he got sick, Beckham lost part of that spark. Took his anger out on the world, as you remember.”
I give her another small nod, the lump in my throat tightening as a phantom ache shoots up my leg.
“For the longest time, I worried he’d let his past mistakes define him. Sure, he may have made some poor decisions, but haven’t we all? Don’t we all deserve a second chance to make things right?”
As I listen to her, my gaze drifts back toward Beckham, his intense eyes instantly locking on mine, as if drawn to me by some invisible force. It doesn’t matter that mere seconds ago, he was involved in an animated conversation with his brothers about the upcoming baseball season. Right now, all his attention is focused solely on me.
“I guess what I’m trying to say is I’m grateful you found it in your heart to give him a second chance.”
“He’s a good man,” I manage to say through the heaviness weighing me down. “He deserves to be happy.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” She gives my hand a squeeze, then clears her throat, her voice turning bright. “Well, enough of this mushy stuff. I’m relieved Beckham found someone he can grow old with. And who will hopefully give me a few more grand-babies.” She gives me a playful waggle of her brow.
I laugh with her, but this entire conversation has left me feeling unsettled. Not simply because of the role I’m forced to play in lying and deceiving everyone.
But because there’s still a small part of me that hasn’t let go of my teenage dream of a happily ever after with Beckham Lawrence.
“Will you excuse me for a minute?” I ask, doing my best to mask the uneasiness in my tone. “I need to run to the ladies’ room. Do you mind keeping an eye on Maggie?”
“Of course.”
As I push back from the table and hurry inside the industrial-style building. I’m so lost in my thoughts, replaying Danielle’s words about growing old with Beckham, that I barely pay attention to my surroundings…
Until I turn the corner toward the restrooms and collide with a suit-clad body.
“I’m so sorry,” I begin, darting my eyes up.
When I do, I hitch a breath, a weight settling in my stomach as I’m met with a pair of familiar gray eyes.
Gray eyes that are nearly identical to those belonging to the little girl I’ve rocked to sleep every night for the past four years.
“Haley?” His voice is hesitant, almost disbelieving, as he repeatedly scans my figure.
This is the last place I ever thought I’d run into Oliver St. John. It’s not like I’ve been actively avoiding him. There’s no reason to. He ended things by throwing a wad of cash at me when I revealed I was pregnant. After all, he had a brand new wife at home, much to my surprise.
As the memories of our relationship return to the surface after nearly five years, the reality of Oliver being in the same place as Maggie sets in.
Protecting her from learning the truth is all I can focus on, and I whirl around, not giving him another moment of my time, even when he calls my name.
With quick steps, I rush toward the patio, barely acknowledging any of the locals I pass on the way. Their voices fade into the background as I emerge outside, met with the sound of children happily playing and boisterous conversation.
My eyes immediately find Beckham as he laughs with his brothers. But when he sees me, his expression drops. In a heartbeat, he’s on his feet, closing the distance between us.
“What’s wrong? What happened?” There’s a protective edge to his voice as his concerned gaze sweeps over me, looking for what could have caused my distress.
“I need to go,” I say urgently. “You can stay, but I need to take Maggie home. Can I have your keys?” I nervously shift from foot to foot.
“Hey. Slow down. What’s?—”
“I just ran into Maggie’s father,” I hiss under my breath. “He doesn’t know about her, and I’d like to keep it that way. So please just give me your keys.”
Without another word, he turns from me and bends to whisper something into Jude’s ear. His eyes briefly widen, then he gives Beckham a small nod before offering me an encouraging smile.
“I’ll get her,” Beckham tells me.
“What do you mean? I just need your keys. You don’t?—”
“I’m driving you home.” The finality in his voice makes it clear this isn’t up for discussion.
I’m not sure I have it in me to argue with him right now anyway. Instead, I grab my purse as he scoops Maggie up from the playground and hoists her onto his shoulders.
Just as we’re about to turn the corner away from the brewery, I glance over my shoulder to see Oliver watching us with interest, his eyes trained on the little girl who bears an uncanny resemblance to him.