“Thank you,” he answered quietly.
“There’s someone I’d like to have dinner with tonight.”
His eyes narrowed.
“With you,” I quickly corrected. “Dinner with you and the someone.”
“You want me to chaperone a date?” His voice dropped to that low, sandpaper-rough tone that woke up my body in parts that had been asleep since Jeff.
“No. I want to meet with my lawyer, and I’m hoping you’ll go with me. About”—I glanced over to where Maisie was napping on the couch—“what you offered yesterday. Kind of.”
Surprise widened his eyes for a second, and I savored the reaction. I didn’t have many opportunities to shock Beckett.
“Kind of?”
Hope flashed in his eyes, catapulting my heart into my throat. “I want to ask some questions first before I say anything. I don’t even know if what I’m thinking about is possible, but I’d be really grateful if you went with me to figure it out.”
“Of course. What time?”
I looked at the clock and then forced a smile. “In about forty-five minutes?”
Instead of scoffing, or snipping that it was too short notice, he simply nodded, saying, “Okay,” and walked out.
I used the time to pack a little for our trip, force Colt into the bathtub, and throw dinner for the kids into the oven. I took Maisie’s temp when she woke up and sighed in relief at the beautiful 98.5 reading as Ada arrived. Then I generally puttered in nervousness before putting on what little makeup I had, which meant a swipe of mascara and a little lip gloss.
Not that this was a date or anything.
Beckett arrived exactly a half hour after he’d departed, his scruff shaved off, smelling like soap and leather, and him. Unh.
“Ready?” he asked after hugging both the kids.
“Yep,” I said, grabbing my purse and a white cardigan.
We walked down the steps, and he opened my door for me. At the moment, in his dress pants, open-collared shirt, and dark blue blazer, he looked more gentleman than special ops soldier, but I knew it was just icing. He might look all fluffy and frosted, but under the clothes he was devil’s food, period.
And I really, really, really liked chocolate.
I climbed up into the truck, and he shut the door, but not before he let his eyes linger on my legs for a moment longer than necessary. Good choice on the heels.
Our drive into Telluride was quiet, accompanied by only a little classic rock streaming through the speakers.
“This was Ryan’s favorite,” he said quietly, catching me off guard. “Used to drive me nuts with it.”
Thunderstruck.
“Yeah, it was,” I agreed. “Did he still play—”
“A wicked air guitar?” Beckett asked with a smile. “Oh yeah. Every chance he got. Between this and Poison, I’ve had my fill of watching him fingerpick at nothing. Did he ever tell you we got to meet Bret Michaels?”
“What? No way!”
“Check the glove box.” He motioned with his head, and I eagerly fumbled with the latch until it opened. “Under the manual.”
I pulled out a white envelope thick and distorted with pictures.
“I think it’s about halfway through.”
I flipped through the pictures, seeing Beckett all over the world, with other soldiers like him, like Ryan. Until I looked closer and saw that it was Ryan in a group photo. My breath caught, and I ran my thumb over his familiar face, an all too familiar ache settling in my chest.
“I miss him,” I said quietly.
“Me, too.” His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. “It’s a good thing, though. Missing him. Grief means you had someone worth grieving.”
I found a picture where the soldiers were three rows deep, all camo’d and bearded. For just that second, I let myself wonder, and before I knew it, my mouth opened. “Which one is Chaos?”
Beckett’s head snapped toward mine as we reached a red light, and I felt a split-second of guilt. Did Beckett know how Chaos had felt about me? Or the way I’d felt about him?
His gaze dropped to the photo. “He’s third from the left.”
I searched the picture, hungry for my first sight of Chaos as we pulled into a parking spot in front of the restaurant. There was Beckett, serious as always… “There are two other soldiers three rows in.” Both had thick, short beards and sunglasses on.
The driver’s side door shut. Beckett had already killed the ignition and gotten out of the truck.
“I guess that subject’s closed,” I muttered, examining the faces one last time before sliding them back in the envelope with a heavy heart. Would I ever get to look again? Ever get the chance to ask questions?
I put the pictures back into the glove box just before Beckett opened my door and helped me down. Heels and running boards weren’t always the easiest combo. Then we walked into the restaurant, a little family-owned Italian place I loved.
When we reached our table, Mark was already waiting, and stood.
“Whoa. Gutierrez?” Beckett asked as Mark came around the table and kissed my cheek.
“Nice to see you, Gentry. Shall we sit?”
Beckett held out my chair, and I took it, scooting in. It was an almost archaic gesture, but it made me feel protected, cared for, and a little off-balance.
“So you don’t just run the rescue crew,” Beckett said as the men took their seats.
“Nope, I’m just a volunteer. Keeps me on my toes, and it’s not like there’s a ton of family law business here in Telluride.” He shrugged. “Kind of like you, just doing it for fun, now.”
Beckett nodded slowly.
“So I guess you two know each other,” I said lightly, even though the moment felt anything but. “Thank you, Mark, for meeting us on a Saturday night. I know you and Tess have date night.”
“No problem. She’s actually in Durango for the weekend with the kids. Trust me, I’d much rather be here with you than having dinner with my mother-in-law. Now what’s up?”
“Want to fill him in on your proposal?” I asked Beckett, and he took the reins.
It took a glass of wine and all of dinner, but he explained everything as thoroughly as possible, from the treatments, the bills, the insurance, to his idea of marriage.
Ella Gentry.
I mentally smacked that picture out of my mind. I’d gotten married on a whim once, and a second time was definitely not in the cards. I didn’t care how good his name sounded attached to mine.
“Do you want to marry Ella?” he asked Beckett as the waitress cleared our plates.
“Would you want to marry a woman who had no interest in marrying you?” Beckett answered.
My head snapped to look at him. No interest? It wasn’t lack of interest in Beckett, it was an overwhelming interest in my sanity and…logic.
“But I would, if that’s what she wan—needed,” Beckett finished.
Great. Now I was the damsel. All I needed was a giant light-up sign above my head that flashed with the words “in distress,” and my life would be complete.
“Okay, then let’s not push that option,” Mark said, his gaze flickering between the two of us. “No one wants an arranged marriage here. So, Ella. Now that I have a good idea of what’s going on, it’s your turn. On the phone you mentioned an idea?”
“Right.” I pivoted in my chair to look at Beckett. “What you’re offering is to basically make Maisie your daughter? Right? Even if it’s only on paper?”
“Yes. Colt, too…as my son, obviously. Legally.”
Just the words sent a spiraling warmth through my belly, or maybe that was the wine. Either way, it gave me the courage to continue.
“I’m a little damaged.”
He quirked an eyebrow as if to say tell me something I don’t know.
“And
sometimes that damage blinds me. It gets in my way and holds me back. And I’m okay with that. But I’m not okay with it hurting Maisie or Colt. So, if there was a way for you to be their legal father, giving them all the same protections that being my husband would…without me being your wife, would you want that?”
“Not marrying you?” His brows drew inward.
“Removing me, and my damage, from the equation,” I clarified before dropping my volume to a whisper only Beckett could hear. “As someone wise once told me, it’s not about not wanting you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Would you want the kids if I wasn’t part of the deal?”
“Yes.” He answered without hesitation.
“Forever?”
“Always.”
That warmth in my stomach spread, combining with the love that burned so brightly in my chest. I half expected to light up like a Care Bear.
I forced my eyes away from Beckett’s to where Mark sat, his gaze darting between us, his mind already at work.
“Can he adopt them? Without marrying me?”
Beckett drew in a sharp breath.
“Is that something you’d be willing to do?” Mark asked Beckett.
“Yes.” Again, the answer came instantly.
“Have you thought about what that would really mean?” Mark asked me.
“Yes. I know it puts the kids at some risk.”
I felt Beckett tense next to me, like a crackle of energy in the air.
“It could,” Mark agreed. “It would be like having another parent—there would be support to consider, visitation, custody rights, both physical and decision-making. It’s basically sharing your kids with him. But it protects them more, too. The moment he adopts them, they’ll be covered by his insurance no matter the status of your…relationship. The military will always see them as his.”
“Even if he’s out?”
Beckett’s jaw tensed. “Yep. You could even sue me for support if you wanted.”
“I would never sue you for support.”
“I wouldn’t care if you did.”
“Right, but you’re still giving up a portion of your rights, Ella.”
My hackles bristled. The twins had always been mine, and only mine.
“Can we lessen the risk?”
He leaned back, continuing his appraisal of us both. “Sure. You’d just have to draw up a custody agreement to be signed immediately after. You could say that you have sole physical custody, he has zero rights to visitation, but you should share decision-making, or it looks pretty darn fraudulent. You wouldn’t even have to file it unless there’s an issue. Just in case someone comes looking.”
“Is it fraud?” I needed to know. I’d probably still go through with it—Maisie’s life was worth some jail time—but I had to know. “I mean, the marriage would seem way more fraudulent to me. If neither of us want to marry the other, and we’re living in separate houses with separate names, then that’s more fraud than Beckett wanting to be there for the kids, right?”
“Do you want to parent the kids?” Mark looked straight at Beckett.
“Yes,” he answered without a second thought. “I love them. Nothing would make me happier than to protect them like this, to give them whatever I can.”
“You’re going to have to do a little better than that with Judge Iverson. He’s a softy for Ella, always has been, but you’re not a local. He’s not going to trust you just because you showed up for some soccer practices.”
Beckett took a deep breath and toyed with his glass. “I didn’t have a father growing up. A lot of guys who hit first, or just generally ignored me, but no one I considered a dad. When Colt and I were walking back across the field after a soccer game, he asked if that was what having a dad felt like, and I couldn’t tell him yes, because I didn’t know—and he didn’t know, either. I want Colt and Maisie to know what it feels like to have a dad—in whatever capacity Ella would let me be there for them. I just want to be the guy they can depend on.”
“That’s pretty much the definition of fatherhood, and I think you’d hold up just fine in court. It’s not fraud if you are adopting so that you can help raise them. The insurance is definitely a perk, though—one that Judge Iverson would see. But he lost his wife to cancer about ten years back, so I honestly think you’ve got a good shot that he’d choose to see it as just that: a perk and not the reason. Would the lack of rights bother you?”
He shook his head. “Maisie dying bothers me. I would never take anything from Ella that she didn’t want to give, and I’d never do anything that would hurt the kids.”
I thought of the pictures the nurses had shown me of the little graduation ceremony that Beckett had given Maisie. She loved him. Colt loved him just as much, and I was right there with him. They already had so much to lose when it came to Beckett.
“Would they have to know? Right away, at least?” I blurted out. He could absolutely hurt the kids the minute he walked away. To give them a dad just to take him away was cruel. Once Maisie was in the clear—hoping Beckett was still content in Telluride that far in the future—we could tell them…once her heart was strong enough to withstand the potential fallout of the opposite being true.
Beckett went stiff, but his gaze stayed steady and unwavering in Mark’s direction.
“Uh…” Mark’s eyes shifted between us. “I guess not? Kids don’t have to be informed or give consent until they’re twelve. We’d just have to talk to Judge Iverson. Seeing how he’s always favored you, and his hatred of the Danburys, well, I think we could sway him to agree.”
“So we could really do it?” I asked, that tiny flame of hope flaring up again. “Even though we’re not married?”
“Marriage might be the easier route,” Mark said with a shrug.
“I just can’t. Not after what happened last time. I’m in no rush to get a ring on it.”
“Which is exactly what you should tell Judge Iverson if he asks. Our definition of family has changed a ton in the last couple of decades, and marriage isn’t the determining factor anymore. And, since you’re the children’s mother, and they’re not wards of the state or anything, the only complication would really be Judge Iverson’s opinion. A single man can absolutely adopt his partner’s children without them being married. You guys just might have to play up the partner part a little.”
My cheeks warmed. I hadn’t had a “partner” since Jeff, and he wasn’t really ever that, anyway.
“So basically I’d be trading my sole decision-making rights, and that’s it?”
“Basically.” He fiddled with his wineglass as he watched us, his eyes seeing way too much.
“But you’d be gaining Maisie’s life,” Beckett answered. “And you know I’d never do anything that would cross you when it came to the kids. I’m not some villain. I’m just trying to help.”
“I know,” I said softly, and I did, but trust wasn’t something I handed out like candy.
“There’s one catch. You’re going to have to get Jeff to sign over his parental rights.”
Pretty sure a nuclear bomb going off would have had less impact on my heart.
“Why? He’s not on the birth certificate, and the kids are MacKenzies, not Danburys.”
“Ella, everyone knows Jeff is the father. Whether or not you admit it on the birth certificate doesn’t eliminate his rights. One paternity test and the adoption would be voided. I’m not saying he’d ever exercise his rights, but the judge is going to require the release. No release. No adoption.”
“Right,” I replied, my voice almost mouselike. I didn’t want to see Jeff. Ever. That was like ripping open a fully healed scar just for fun.
We thanked Mark, Beckett paid for dinner, and we left, riding back to the house in a tense silence.
“What way are you leaning?” Beckett asked as we pu
lled through Solitude’s gate.
“The way that doesn’t require me seeing Jeff.” I slammed my eyes shut. “That’s a lie. I know what you’re offering is a godsend, not just for Maisie, but for Colt. For me. I just can’t bear the idea of having to ask him for anything.”
“I’ll handle Jeff,” Beckett promised. “Besides, he’d probably run screaming if you showed up. At least I can blindside him.”
“You’d do that for me?” I asked as we reached my cabin, the truck coming to a soft stop.
“I would do anything for you.” His eyes locked onto mine in the dashboard lights, intense and a little hurt. “What is it going to take for you to believe me? To trust me? You want my background checked? Do it. You want my credit score? Awesome. My bank accounts? I’ll add you on. You have my word, my body, my time, and I’m standing here offering my last name. What else can I give you?”
“Beckett,” I leaned toward him, but he backed away.
“Not that you’d ever give them my last name, not when they don’t even get to know what we’re doing. Right? I can be their legal father, but I’m not good enough to be their dad.”
“That’s…that’s not what this is about.”
“Oh, I know. It’s that you don’t trust me to stay. You think I’ll walk out just like Jeff did. You think it will hurt the kids even more.”
“I figured we could tell them once Maisie was healthy.”
“If I’m still around by then, right?”
I hated and loved that he knew me so well. I didn’t even have to answer. He saw it in my eyes.
“Yeah. Okay.” He killed the engine and removed the keys. “I don’t even have the right to be upset. I know what I’m offering, and the being dad part isn’t in there, right? Just the legal protection. You need something, I’m giving it to you, just like I promised I would. Simple as that.”
He opened the door and got out of the truck. I followed quickly after, watching his back retreat down my driveway, toward the lake.
“What are you doing?”
“Leaving my truck here. I’ll get it tomorrow before the game. The walk will do me good.”
The Last Letter Page 22