Chapter 36
“Eat up, sweetie,” I tell Maggie with a saccharine smile. “We need to leave in ten minutes.”
“Okay, Mama,” she replies, but her voice lacks any enthusiasm.
It’s her first morning waking up without Beckham around.
Or Monte.
When she questioned me about it, I didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know if I could get the words out without breaking down. Instead, I did what I swore I never would.
I lied to her.
Told her he’s at work.
He probably is.
But that isn’t why he’s not here.
He’s gone because we’re not together anymore.
If we ever were.
Just as I throw the mixing bowl into the sink and soak it in some water, there’s a knock on the door.
A glimmer of hope builds inside me that it’s Beckham. Would he knock, though? After yesterday, he might.
But as I check the peephole, my expression falls when I see Grady standing outside.
“Grady, hey,” I greet, opening the door. “Beckham’s not here.”
“I know. He was in his lab before the sun rose this morning.”
“Then why?—”
“I was hoping I could talk to you for a moment. I won’t be long.”
“Of course.” I grit a smile, feeling equal parts guilty and angry.
Guilty about lying to him.
Angry that he’s now refusing to sell the vineyard to Beckham because of it. I didn’t take Grady for the type of person who’d hold something like this against him.
Maybe I was wrong.
“Come on in.” I step back, allowing him to enter, the unsteady rhythm of his cane echoing as he walks.
“Hiya, Mr. Grady,” Maggie says when he enters the kitchen.
“Hey, cutie. Did your mom make you pancakes?”
“She did.” Her brow furrows. “Can you give Beck tomorrow morning off from work so he can be home for breakfast? I don’t like it when he’s not here when I wake up in the morning.”
It takes everything I have to prevent the tears that are about to break free, especially when I see the look of sympathy on Grady’s face.
“I’ll see what I can do,” he says sweetly.
“Thanks.”
“Maggie, why don’t you run upstairs and get dressed for school while I talk to Mr. Grady?”
“Okay, Mama.” She slides off the barstool at the kitchen island and runs up the stairs.
Once I hear her door close, I turn to Grady. “It was my idea,” I tell him without giving him a chance to say anything.
“What are you talking about?”
“The fake marriage. If you want to take it out on anyone, take it out on me. Not Beckham. This vineyard is his life. It’s why he went so far as to get married. I know you care about him and don’t want him to miss out on anything, but please reconsider, Grady. This vineyard has always been the one good thing in his life. Don’t take that away.”
He gives me a quizzical look, tilting his head slightly as he leans on his cane. “What makes you think I would?”
His response catches me off guard. “He came home yesterday for lunch and told me you would no longer be selling to him.”
Grady chuckles, shaking his head ruefully. “I always said that boy would make a good lawyer,” he remarks with a hint of fondness. “He has a knack for phrasing things a certain way so it’s not a complete lie, but not exactly the truth, either.”
I furrow my brow in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“The reason I’m no longer selling to him is because he rescinded his offer.”
“He…did?” I blink repeatedly. “Why would he do that?”
A million different scenarios run through my brain, but all I can hear are the words he couldn’t say last night. Was he really so desperate to get rid of me that he retracted his offer in order to do so?
“I was wondering the same thing. All afternoon, I kept replaying our conversation over in my mind. Do you know what stood out?”
“What’s that?” I ask shakily.
“He kept insisting that I sell to a development firm by the name of Benson and Associates.”
I dart my eyes toward his, inhaling a sharp breath.
“I gather it rings a bell.”
“Yeah. It…uh?—”
“Maggie’s birth father is a junior partner there,” he says in a low voice. “Isn’t that right?”
“Yes.”
“The same birth father who filed a petition for custody last week.”
I don’t even bother asking how he knows. “Yes.”
“And the same birth father who, the same day as Beckham rescinded his offer to buy my vineyard, withdrew his petition for custody.”
My heart squeezes and it feels like the ground is about to give out from under me. “What are you saying?” I ask, resting my hand on the island to steady myself.
“I’m saying it’s curious. We both know Beckham wouldn’t give up this vineyard unless he had a damn good reason. And it’s certainly not because he lied to me, or whatever he believes. Hell, the reason I put the condition on the sale is because Estelle and I were hoping to play matchmaker.”
“What a minute. Grandma Estelle was behind this, too?” My eyes widen, although I shouldn’t be surprised.
For a woman who never married herself, she does like to play matchmaker quite a bit. She certainly played a hand in getting Parker and Callum together.
“We knew if Beckham would ask anyone to marry him, even for a short period of time, it would probably be you. He’s always had a soft spot for you, Haley. I think he always will.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” I scoff.
“Don’t count him out yet. Beckham can be…stubborn.”
I cross my arms in front of my chest. “Don’t I know it.”
“I think he’s holding onto his guilt about what happened to you because without it, he’ll have to face the truth.”
“What’s that?”
Grady gives me a knowing look. “I think we both know. And I think he’s just too scared to face that right now. Just be patient with him. Forgiveness is a process.”
“I’ve already forgiven him.”
“I’m not talking about you. I’m talking about him finally forgiving himself.” He gives my bicep a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll see myself out.”
I watch as he retreats, replaying the entire conversation in my mind. I still can’t believe Beckham would give up the vineyard just so I wouldn’t have to endure a custody battle.
The weight of his sacrifice hits me like a ton of bricks, a knot forming in my throat. If I’d known, I never would have allowed him to do that. I would have fought Oliver. I was ready to fight him. Was ready to prove to the world that, just because someone made a mistake in their past, it doesn’t define who they are.
My past mistakes don’t define me.
And Beckham’s past mistakes don’t define him.
Except he seems to be clinging onto those past mistakes as a reason for everything.
Or maybe an excuse.
“Was Mr. Grady talking about Beck?”
I whirl around, finding Maggie lingering at the top of the staircase. Her bottom lip trembles and tears glisten in her big gray eyes.
I want to lie to her. Assure her everything’s okay.
But as much as I wish I could protect her from all the pain and hurt in the world, that’s not possible.
No one has that kind of power.
“Yes.”
“Is that why he’s not here?” she squeaks out. “Because he’s scared?”
My heart aches at the sadness in her voice. “Yes, baby. He’s scared. But it’ll be okay. Remember what I always say? You and me against the world.”
She gives me a lackluster nod.
“Now come on. Let’s get to school.”
“Okay, Mama.” She shuffles down the stairs, and I help her put her socks and shoes on before leaving the house.
As I buckle her into her car seat, something that was usually Beckham’s job, she suggests, “Maybe he needs a stuffy.”
“A…stuffy?
“He doesn’t have any stuffed animals. When I’m scared, my stuffies make me feel better, especially Fred. Maybe a stuffy will make him feel better, too.”
I press a soft kiss to her forehead. “Maybe so.”