Chapter 27
“Oh, my god.”
When I hear Parker’s voice, I look up from my sketchpad as she plops down into the chair across from me at a table outside the local coffee shop, a knowing gleam in her blue eyes.
“You’ve had sex.”
I choke on my iced coffee, liquid spewing out of my nose.
“What makes you say that?” I ask once I get my coughing under control.
“You’ve got that thoroughly fucked glow. I’m right, aren’t I?” She takes a sip from her coffee and leans closer to whisper, “You and Beckham finally consummated your marriage, didn’t you?”
I bite on my lower lip, trying to fight my smile from just how good Beckham was at consummating our marriage. But it’s impossible. The mere mention of it causes my skin to flush, my veins pulsing with heat.
One thing was certain. Beckham Lawrence could give any book boyfriend a run for his money. He was an animal, unable to get enough of me.
And I was more than willing to be his prey.
“It’s not like that,” I say, not wanting her to think this changes things between Beckham and me.
As far as I’m concerned, our agreement remains in place. We’ve just added sex as a benefit of our fake marriage.
“So you didn’t have sex?” Squinting, she focuses on my neck. “Because that sure as hell looks like some beard burn. And are those bite marks?”
I smooth my hair in front of my shoulder, having forgotten about the marks Beckham left behind last night.
“We did,” I finally admit.
“I knew it!” She reaches for her phone and feverishly types at the screen.
“What are you doing?”
“Texting Jude to tell him he owes me a case of beer for winning our bet.” After she shoves her cell back into her purse, she places her forearms on the table, her attention fully on me. “So tell me. How was it?”
“It was some top-notch sex, Parker,” I gush. “He’d put some of those two-schlonged aliens in Grandma Estelle’s monster romances to shame. And Beckham’s only working with the one dick. But the way he works that dick…” My face heats, the reminder causing hunger to build inside me.
Then again, it could be because we were interrupted this morning mere seconds before I was about to come.
At least I have something to look forward to tonight.
Before, I often dreaded night time. It was always the most awkward part of the day.
Not anymore.
“How did this all happen? Was the sexual tension too much for either of you to handle any longer?”
“No. I mean, it has been building. But that’s not what happened.” I lean toward her, dropping my voice. “I saw Oliver yesterday.”
Her eyes widen. “What? When? Where?”
“At the brewery. We took Maggie to celebrate Grady agreeing to sell Beckham the vineyard.”
“He did?” She perks up at the news. “That’s incredible.”
“At one point, I excused myself to go to the ladies’ room. When I turned the corner into the back hallway, I ran into someone.” I give her a knowing look. “It was Oliver.”
“What’s he doing in Sycamore Falls?” She inhales a sharp breath. “Do you think he tracked you down?”
Pinching my lips, I shake my head. “I doubt it. He made it clear he didn’t want anything to do with me or the baby. Still, I wanted to get Maggie out of there. I’m not ready for her to learn the truth. I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready.”
Parker reaches across the table and gives my hand a reassuring squeeze. “She’s better off without that prick.” She holds my gaze for a beat, then pulls back. “What happened next?”
I tell her how Beckham didn’t hesitate in getting both of us out of there. How he forced me to take some time for myself. Then how he cooked dinner and even read to Maggie.
“I don’t know what came over me, Parker. But when I was watching him with Maggie, especially as he read to her, it was too much.”
“Pretty sure every woman’s ovaries would explode at the sight of Beckham Lawrence snuggling with a little girl.”
“And boy, did they explode.”
She twirls a strand of blonde hair around her finger. “What does this mean for the two of you going forward?”
I bring my iced coffee up to my mouth and take a long sip from the straw. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?” she repeats, arching a brow.
“We agreed that, all things considered, it’s best that we don’t put unreasonable expectations on ourselves or each other. There’s just a lot of…baggage to sort through when it comes to us.”
“Like what?”
“For starters, how I’m the reason he spent a year behind bars and has a felony record.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because it’s the truth.”
She eyes me suspiciously, then sets her coffee cup on the table and squares her shoulders, devoting her full attention to me.
“Okay. What really happened all those years ago? I heard the rumors, but I never knew what to believe. I wasn’t around since I was away at college, but I heard about Beckham’s arrest. And how you were injured when you tried to intervene. Is that why you think you’re responsible? Because?—”
“I didn’t intervene. Not like all the reports made it sound.”
“Then what happened?”
I draw in a steadying breath, unsure if I’m ready to tell her the entire story. No one knows the truth about the events leading up to me being hospitalized and Beckham being sent to prison. My parents made sure of that.
“It was just supposed to be a summer fling,” I finally admit, nervously tapping my fingernails against the black metal table. “Growing up, my nanny was good friends with Beckham’s mama. Every so often, she’d take me to their house and we’d play together. Or Beckham’s mother would bring all her kids to the lake and we’d play at the beach. He was probably my best friend back then, even if we annoyed the shit out of each other.” A nostalgic smile tugs at my lips from the memory of those early days.
“When I was older, I didn’t need a nanny anymore, so we didn’t see each other much. My parents lived in Tahoe and didn’t come out this way very often, if at all. Our worlds rarely intersected.”
“But they eventually did?” Parker prodded.
“The summer before college.”
“What happened?”
“I started to feel suffocated by my parents and how they were dictating everything about my life, from where I went to college to who I should date. When one of my close friends mentioned ditching a stuffy graduation party and sneaking out to Kaplan Farm, I was more than willing to defy my parents, even if I’d pay for it later.”
“That had to be culture shock for you,” Parker remarks, more than aware of Kaplan Farm’s reputation for parties, even to this day.
“It certainly was,” I agree with a laugh. “Up until then, the only parties I’d been to had been catered events thrown by my parents or one of their wealthy friends. A party at a cow pasture with kegs and loud music? It was like nothing I’d ever experienced but everything I needed at the same time.”
“And that’s where you saw Beckham again?” Parker prompts after a beat.
“At first, I didn’t even recognize him. He looked so different from the scrawny boy I remembered. And the way he looked at me when he realized who I was…” An unexpected shiver trickles down my spine. “No one had ever looked at me like that. And then…”
“Yes?”
“He asked me a question no one ever had.”
“What’s that?”
“He asked if I was happy.” My voice catches with emotion. “Before that night, I didn’t think it mattered. Thought it was my duty to do whatever my parents asked of me. Just like I rode horses for show, and excelled in fencing, and practiced piano for hours every day. I didn’t do any of those things because they made me happy. I did them because it’s what my parents expected of me. And I resented Beckham for seeing right through me. How could this man who barely knew me see me so clearly, yet the people who purported to love me couldn’t see how miserable I was? I’d never admit that to him, though, so I stormed off. But Beckham wouldn’t let it go.”
Enraptured by my story, Parker leans closer, resting her chin on her hands. “What did he do?”
“He came over to my house in the middle of the night. Threw pebbles at my window. I don’t know how he remembered which one was mine, but he did. When I opened the window, he managed to climb a nearby tree and sneak into my room. He apologized for upsetting me. Then we stayed up all night long talking. It was the first of many nights he’d climb through my bedroom window that summer.”
“I’m guessing your parents didn’t approve.”
I snort a laugh. “They didn’t even know about him. Or us. They couldn’t. Not only was his family poor, at least according to their standards, but Beckham was notorious for getting into fights. I understood it, though. He was going through a rough time with his dad being diagnosed with ALS. At first, he said he was okay sneaking around. We kept things casual since we were both going off to college in the fall. At least, we were supposed to. But as time went on, he got more and more frustrated that he couldn’t be seen with me in public. That I refused to stand up for myself.”
“You were only eighteen.” Parker gives my hand a squeeze.
“If I had, so much could have been avoided.”
She tilts her head. “How so?”
“Since I didn’t want my parents to find out about Beckham, I compensated by doing whatever they asked of me. That includes going on dates with the guy they kept shoving at me.”
“Let me guess. Chase Longmire.”
Parker knew enough from reading reports on the infamous incident to know who I was purported to have been dating. In reality, the only reason I went out with him was to make my parents happy and keep them from becoming suspicious of my relationship with Beckham.
“His father was a member at the same country club as my dad,” I explain. “My parents didn’t find it the least bit unsettling that a twenty-five-year-old man who just finished grad school was interested in a girl who only turned eighteen a few weeks earlier. All they saw was a man from a wealthy and powerful family looking to settle down and get married, since it would help with his run for state representative.”
Parker rolled her eyes. “Fucking politicians.”
“Exactly.” I smooth a few tendrils of hair behind my ear. “So I went on the occasional date with Chase, making sure to be home before Beckham would sneak into my bedroom.”
“And Beckham was okay with it?” She arches a brow.
“I wouldn’t say he was okay with it. He understood why it had to be this way for the time being. At least until I went away to college. Then I’d have a bit more freedom. But one night…” I close my eyes, sucking in a shuttering breath, the memories so vivid and sharp it could have happened yesterday instead of fourteen years ago.
“It’s okay,” Parker reassures me, covering my hand with hers once more. “Take your time.”
I give her a grateful look before continuing, “One night, instead of going to dinner or a movie, as we usually did, Chase said he heard about a party he wanted to check out. I was a little nervous about this, considering Beckham mentioned hitting up a party that night, but we’d been careful. I convinced myself there was no way Chase would have found out about us.”
“Let me guess. The party Chase wanted to go to was the same party where Beckham was.”
I nod. “It wasn’t enough for Chase to simply show up with me. He made sure to have his hands all over me whenever Beckham was even remotely close. Especially the more he drank. At one point, I’d had enough of it and said I wanted to leave, then went onto the deck to find Beckham and ask if he’d drive me home since Chase was too drunk. But Chase followed me. Started screaming at me. Calling me names. Pushed me up against the wall and told me if I wanted to act like a whore, he’d treat me like one.”
“Jesus.”
“Luckily, I wasn’t the only one who was out there.”
“Beckham?”
“One second, Chase was lifting up my skirt, the next he was on the deck with a broken nose. And the next still, Beckham was on top of him, blood spraying everywhere. I didn’t know what to do. I’m glad he was out there to stop Chase, but I didn’t want him to kill him, which was exactly what it looked like he was about to do. So I ran toward him. Tried to get him to stop.” I swallow hard. “But he was in a trance and didn’t realize it was me. He pushed me away with such force that I broke the railing and fell onto the pavement below. The next thing I knew, I was waking up in a hospital bed with a doctor telling me my hipbone was shattered along with my femur. Said I was lucky I wasn’t paralyzed or dead.”
“And Beckham?”
“He pled guilty to two counts of aggravated assault and battery in exchange for only serving a year in prison instead of the potential ten-year sentence he was facing.”
“But why? He acted in your defense.”
“I’m guessing he didn’t want to take his chances. It wasn’t his first arrest for fighting. His lawyer probably saw the one-year sentence as a gift that he’d be crazy to turn down, especially considering the influence Chase’s parents held in this area.”
“And Chase? Did you ever tell anyone the truth about him?”
“I tried to tell my parents.”
“What did they say?”
“My mom told me I was just confused about what he was trying to do. I wasn’t fucking confused. I knew exactly what he was trying to do. But no one would listen. They were gaslighting me into believing Beckham was the one in the wrong, especially since everyone was of the opinion that Chase and I were dating.”
“That’s fucked.”
“Yes, it is.”
“And you’ve been blaming yourself ever since?”
I run my hands down the skirt of my sundress. “I suppose. If I’d just stood up to my parents, none of this would have happened. Instead, Beckham never got to go to college. Missed out on being there during his father’s last days.”
“Is this why you don’t want to get emotionally involved?” She furrows her brows, obviously confused. “Because you blame yourself?”
“There are also the letters.”
“Letters?”
“I wrote to him every day. Even recruited one of my nurses to mail my letter without my parents finding out.”
“And?”
“He never wrote back. Once I was able to walk without assistance, I tried to visit him. He refused to see me every time.”
“It must have been hard on him,” Parker says in his defense.
This is one of the reasons I adore her so much. While she will always have my back, she also has no problem looking at all sides of an issue and calling a spade a spade when necessary.
“That’s what I kept telling myself. That maybe he just needed to get through his sentence and then everything would be okay. The letters were never returned to me. If he didn’t want them, he could have refused delivery. Throughout the next year, that’s what gave me hope, as well as the courage to finally stand up to my parents. I started applying for jobs that would give me the freedom I never thought possible. Luckily, I got hired by the airline.”
“It wasn’t luck. It was the universe giving you what you needed most.”
I playfully roll my eyes, but I can’t deny she might have a point.
“When I told my parents, they were pissed, threatened to cut me off financially if I followed through. I didn’t want their money anymore. Not when I knew the true price of their supposed love. The day before I was scheduled to leave for training was the day Beckham was released from prison.”
“Did you go see him?”
I nod slowly.
“And?”
“He didn’t even look at me, Parker,” I squeak out through the tightness in my throat, tears welling in my eyes. “Up until that moment, I managed to hold on to my hope. But that day, when he walked outside those prison gates and continued past me as if I didn’t even exist…it hurt. And then when I moved back here after having Maggie and he could barely look at me…” I shake my head. “I think a part of me will always worry he’ll remember everything he lost because of me and start to hate me all over again.”
“Have you ever asked him about it?”
I shrug. “Not yet. I mean, he did apologize last night. Not for this specifically, but for everything. For the way he treated me.”
“If you ask me, that’s a step in the right direction. You’ve both been through a lot. I actually think you’re being smart about whatever this is.” She waves her hand around.
“You do?”
“You’re both coming into this with a fuck ton of baggage. And guilt. If you jumped into something and went full steam ahead, you’d probably crash and burn. Taking it one day at a time is probably the best thing for you. Just promise me something.”
“What’s that?”
“That you don’t let this guilt you’ve been carrying for too long ruin what could be the best thing to ever happen to you. To both of you. I’ve seen the way you look at him. The way he looks at you. Despite what you may want to believe, this is the real deal. Don’t let it slip away because you don’t think you deserve to be happy. If there are any two people who do deserve to be happy, it’s the two of you. So just…trust the process.”
“I’ll do my best,” I assure her.
“That’s all any of us can do,” she retorts as a chiming cuts through.
Parker snaps her attention to her phone, her expression dropping. “Shit. I need to get back to the inn.”
“Go do what you need to do,” I reply, grateful for the interruption.
“Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel like I’m abandoning you after you drop this huge bombshell. If you want me to stay and flesh this out more, I can. Or if you simply want to gush about your sexy times.”
“I’m fine.” I assure her, gesturing to my blank sketchpad. “I need to work on a concept for my latest cake request anyway.”
“Okay,” she draws out. “If you’re sure.”
“I am. Thanks for listening. And not judging.”
“My mama always said that when you judge others, what you’re really doing is judging yourself.” She pauses, allowing her words to sink in before brightening her expression. “Drinks soon?”
“Definitely.”
“Good. Love ya, Haley. And I’m happy for you.”
“Thanks.”
She stands and slings her purse over her shoulder, then spins from me, making her way down the sidewalk.
I relax into my chair, staring into the distance.
I understand why people go to therapy, even if they don’t think they need to. Just talking to Parker about everything and clearing the air has done wonders for my soul.
Has allowed me to lift the weight that’s been burdening me for too long.
Or maybe it was the sex.
This thing with Beckham may not go anywhere, but like we agreed earlier. We’ll just take it one day at a time.
Or one orgasm at a time.
And my god, do I love the orgasms Beckham is capable of giving me.
“Is this seat taken?” a deep voice interjects, snapping me out of my thoughts.
I dart my head up, my expression falling as I peer into a pair of familiar gray eyes.
In an instant, all my happiness and relief turns into dread at the sight of Oliver’s imposing frame looming over me.