Chapter 48
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
LOLA
Wyatt seems pretty cool with me being the one to pick him up from school on my own.
I was a wreck on the drive here. White-knuckling the steering wheel, rehearsing what to say, fully expecting him to climb in and ask where his daddy is with that look kids get when the wrong adult shows up.
Instead, he spotted me through the truck window, broke into a grin so wide it crinkled his nose, and jumped right in like it was the most normal thing in the world.
And that is a relief I can feel in my bones.
I crawl through the school traffic, tapping my nails on the steering wheel.
This truck is nothing like anything I’ve ever driven.
I feel like I’m captaining a ship. A very expensive, very large ship with blind spots the size of small buildings.
And I’m trying my absolute hardest not to curb the damn thing, because Hunter will know.
“Wyatt, your daddy is doing some work. I was wondering… if maybe you wanted to grab some food with me?”
He turns to face me, taps his finger on his lips like a tiny businessman about to start negotiating with me. “Yeah.” He nods. “I could eat. The food at school is crappy.”
My eyes go wide. “Wyatt Sterling. Language.” I hold up a finger. “Say it was…”
I pause. The first word that pops into my head is shit. So no. Not that one.
“Say what instead?” he asks, watching me struggle with genuine curiosity.
“Hmm. Bad. The food at school is bad.”
He laughs. A full, hiccupping belly laugh that fills the entire cab. “Daddy lets me say crappy.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Oh, does he now?”
He nods. “Yep.”
Maybe I don’t have a clue what I’m doing. Should six-year-olds say crappy? I genuinely don’t know. My mother would have had a fit if I’d said it at any age. Probably would still now. But then, my mother has an image to maintain and a stick so far up her—
Not the point.
“Okay.” Wyatt’s voice gets quieter. He looks down at his lap. “I lied. He doesn’t.”
I laugh and reach over to ruffle his hair. “Yeah. I didn’t think so, buddy.”
He chews on his lip. Those blue eyes flick up at me with the exact same expression his father uses when he wants something and knows he’s about to get it.
“Can we still go for food?”
“Yes. Of course, we can. I’m not mad at you.”
His face lights up so fast. “And ice cream? We can get that too?”
“Yep. If you eat all of your dinner.”
Maybe I can do this parenting thing.
He pumps his fist. “Deal.”
I pull into the diner, the same one his father proposed to me in earlier today, which is a sentence my brain still can’t fully process, and park up in the biggest space I can find. I still clip the curb. Just barely.
“Oh!” Wyatt presses his face against the window. “This is the place Daddy always takes me. He says it’s where his daddy used to take him.”
My heart melts.
To most people, The Beam is just an old diner. But to Hunter, it holds something deeper. A place where a boy and his father sat in a vinyl booth and drank milkshakes, and the world outside didn’t matter.
The place where he asked me to marry him.
“You’re staying with my daddy, right?” Wyatt’s voice pulls me back.
I turn to him. “I am. I really like being with your dad.”
He grins. That grin. The one that’s just like Hunter’s but softer around the edges.
“You love him?”
I bite back my smile. “Maybe.”
He crosses his arms over his chest, studying me with a seriousness that belongs on a man four times his age. “I think my daddy loves you a lot.”
My chest squeezes. “I think he does too,” I say quietly.
“So does this mean you’ll pick me up from school all the time?”
I nod.
“And watch movies?”
“Absolutely.”
“And go horse riding? And make sure Daddy doesn’t work all the time?” He’s bouncing in his seat now, rattling them off like a wishlist to Santa. “And I can be like my friends at school who have brothers and sisters?”
That one stops me.
Brothers and sisters.
This kid, this beautiful, brave, goat-obsessed kid who’s been through more in his six years than most people face in a lifetime, is sitting in the passenger seat of his daddy’s truck asking me if I’m going to give him a family.
I want Hunter to be here for the big conversation. When we tell Wyatt we got married today. When we explain the fun party we’re going to have, where he gets to wear a little suit and walk me down the aisle.
But right now, in this truck, outside this diner, I can give him this.
“So you want me to stick around?” I ask.
“Yes!” He says it so fast. It takes everything in me not to cry.
I reach across and take his little hand in mine. “Then I’m not going anywhere, Wyatt.”
He squeezes my fingers. “Promise? Daddy says you have to stick to a promise forever.”
“I promise.”
It’s the easiest one I’ve ever given.
He holds my hand for a second longer, then unbuckles his car seat. “Come on, Lola! I’m so hungry!”
He’s out of the truck before I’ve turned off the engine. I watch him sprint to the diner door, pull it open with both hands because it’s twice his size, and hold it there, looking back at me.
Waiting for me.
I grab the keys, wipe my eyes with the back of my hand, and follow my boy inside. I want to give him everything. For now, I’ll start with food and ice cream.
And then when we go home to Hunter, we can explain that I really am not going anywhere because I married his daddy today.