by Erika Kelly
“I’ve got a kid.” Jesus, that sounded so cold. “I mean a child. I’m a father.”
“I’m at a loss here. You’re going to have to give me some more details. We’re not talking about Willow right now, are we?”
“No, Dad.” And then it hit him. “Wait, you think I’d dump Willow if she was pregnant?”
“Well, it’s no secret you don’t want kids.”
“I would never…” This isn’t the point. “This has nothing to do with Willow. I met a woman in Vegas six years ago…we spent a night together. I haven’t seen her since, until last week, when I came to Calamity to meet the wedding planner. She makes chocolate, Dad. And…she’s got a daughter.” Everything in him softened when he said the word. “My daughter.”
“I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around this.”
“Well, it’s real. We did a paternity test. Not that I doubted it.” She looks so much like Ari. But he didn’t want to say that. Didn’t want to hurt his dad. “Coco’s been raising her alone for five years.”
“That’s a lot to deal with. How’re you handling it?” his dad asked.
“She’s incredible. She thinks she’s a fairy, so she’s always wearing sparkly shoes and dresses and hairbands. She’s stubborn and funny, and you can’t believe how sweet she is. She tells me she’s hungry, and then she eats one bite before racing off to do something else.”
His dad went quiet.
“Dad? You there?”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m here. I’m just…surprised. You’ve really gotten to know her.”
“I’m staying in Calamity this summer.”
“What about your business?”
“I’ve hired someone to handle the trips I’ve got scheduled for the next several weeks.”
His dad exhaled into the receiver. “Who-ee.”
“Yep.” He’d been listening carefully to make sure this conversation didn’t bring up ghosts for his dad. Did his quietness mean something? Or was he just taking it all in?
Beckett collapsed onto the bed, bunching the pillows behind him. Seeing him settled, Ollie got up from his sprawl and curled up beside him, his rump pressing against Beckett’s thighs. He ran his fingers through the dog’s soft fur, the sharp bones reminding him how damn glad he was he’d gone back to Boulder.
“You got a picture?”
“Yeah, sure. Hang on.” Beckett brought up the photo app and scrolled through the shots he’d taken, before choosing two of the best. Wait, maybe that one, too. “Okay, sent you three.”
His dad sucked in a breath. “She looks so much like Ari.”
Relief flooded him. His dad sounded okay. Not devastated. “Yeah, she does.” They never talked about her. He understood why, of course, but he was so damn glad his dad had opened that door. “She’s so much like Ari, you wouldn’t believe it. She’s got the same hair, same blue eyes…and that big personality.”
“Is it hard for you?”
“Not at all. Posie’s so much her own person, I don’t really see Ari when I’m with her.”
“So, I’m a granddad.” He sounded a little in awe. “Wasn’t expecting that.”
In the background, he heard Marcia shout, “We’re grandparents? What? I’m a grandma? When can we meet her?”
“Marcia wants to know if we can come visit. Let me know if it’s too soon.”
“Is that going to be tough for you?”
“Ah, you know. It’s always going to hurt. It’s still a sock in the gut every time I think of her, even after all these years. The loss doesn’t ever go away. But Marcia makes me talk about her, and it does me some good. Used to be, I’d feel the punch and then shut it down. But Marcia makes me tell her stories, and it helps a lot. Now, when I think about my little girl, I smile. She was beautiful, happy. It helps to remember.” His dad went quiet, as his wife spoke to him. “Marcia wants to know her name.”
“Posie. Posie Cavanaugh.”
His dad repeated it, and Marcia said, “Posie? What a cute name.”
A muffled sound came, and Beckett knew his dad and Marcia were talking. And then he came back on the line. “We’d like to meet her. When you’re ready.”
“Yeah, sure. I’d like that.” A soft knock on the door had him getting up. Ollie grumbled but readjusted himself. “Hey, Dad, I’ve got to go. There’s someone at the door.”
“Oh, sure. Drop that kind of news and then take off.”
He smiled. “I’ll call you later.” Tossing the phone on the bed, he hurried to the door. That dark, tousled hair, the jean shorts and cherry-covered tank top turned him the fuck on. He opened it, trying to get a hold of himself. “Hey. Everything all right?”
“Yeah, sure.” She glanced to the house, where she’d left the back door wide open. “We’re going to my parent’s house for dinner tonight.”
“Okay.” Oh, she meant she wasn’t cooking. “No problem. I can walk into town and grab something.”
“No, it’s…actually, my parents invited you. I know it might be awkward, so you don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”
“Why wouldn’t I want to?”
“Because…what could be more family than the three of us piling into a car and going to my parent’s house for dinner? I don’t want you to feel pressure, but they want to get to know you better.”
“I’m living in your backyard and spending time with their granddaughter. I get it, and I don’t mind.”
Relief relaxed her features. “Oh, good. Okay, well, I have to get back, but if you can be ready in twenty minutes, that would be great.”
“Sure…I just have to tell you something.”
At his tone, concern tightened her features.
“I told the Bowies. I know you don’t want me to tell anyone yet, but it just came out. And…I don’t know if you know this, but Will’s raising his half-sister. Finding out about her blindsided him, too, so—”
“Beckett. I didn’t want you to do that. What if, at the end of summer, you decide it’s just not for you? You’ll go back to your life like nothing happened, but guess what? This is a small town, and one day she’s going to find out that her biological dad is friends with the Bowies, that he lived here one summer and then left. That is not all right.”
“It is for me. I’m not Keith, I’m not Ethan, and I’m not going to leave town and forget about her.”
“It’s too soon. I’m not ready for this. Not yet. God, I told my parents, you told the Bowies…it’s already spreading. Once it’s out, it can’t be controlled.”
“Coco…stop. Listen to me.” He reached for her, cupping her elbows and looking into her eyes. “I’m her father, and I’m in her life to stay. I want her to know who I am. I’m ready for that.” Her eyes reflected his own surprise. He hadn’t known it until he said it, but he was ready.
And he understood the consequence. Once Posie knew, it was done.
He was committed. There was no turning back.
And while he waited for the flare of fear…it didn’t come.
But he saw her doubt, and while he understood it, it stung. She doesn’t trust me. “We don’t have to tell her tonight or tomorrow. We’ll do it when you feel comfortable, but you need to know that I’m ready. I’m her father—”
“But do you want to be her dad? Do you know what I’m saying? A dad reads to her at night, helps her with her homework, goes to her recitals.”
The picture she painted made him tighten up, like a neckline that pulled around his windpipe, cutting off his ability to breathe. “You have great parents, I get that, but not every family’s as conventional as yours. I’m never going to be like your dad. He retired and got to stay home with you guys. My job is never going to be nine-to-five.” And just like that he shed the image of himself in a suit, heading off to his job at the bank every day. Thank Christ. “That’s just not who I am.” And it gave him breathing room. “But it doesn’t mean I won’t be here for Posie. And you.”
“You’re right. You’re absolutely right. I’ve g
ot some idea in my head, and you don’t have to fit it. I’m sorry. I’m just so scared of hurting her.”
“And that’s what makes you such a great mom. But I have to find my own way to be her dad. Can you let me do that? Because I very much want to.” He’d thought he had to do it on her terms, but now the anxiety dropped away when he understood he could do it on his.
“Let me think about it, okay? I have to get back inside, but be ready to leave in fifteen minutes.”
“Mommy?” Posie stood in the doorway with a guilty expression.
Coco’s eyes narrowed. “What happened?”
Chapter Thirteen
“It spilled.” Posie’s lower lip wobbled.
“What spilled?” Coco was already on the move.
“The paint.” The little girl looked so fragile and frightened.
He wanted to scoop her up and tell her he’d fix whatever was wrong, but this was none of his business.
“On what?”
“On everything.” Posie collapsed to the floor of the mudroom in a ruckus of tears.
Ollie tried to bolt out the door, but Beckett blocked him. “Hang on, buddy. Let me see what’s going on over there.”
Where Coco dashed across the lawn and picked up her daughter, Beckett went straight for the mess. He found red paint splattered and smeared across the kitchen.
Jesus, where did he start?
Anything in the kitchen could be mopped up, but the living room—the upholstery and rugs—could stain. Following the trail, he found the coffee table draped in a plastic tablecloth and covered in small plastic jars of paint in primary colors.
Each tub couldn’t have held more than an ounce, so he had no idea where all the paint came from. Gathering the corners of the cloth, he bagged the whole mess and dropped it into the kitchen sink.
Then, he followed the other trail to the laundry room. Thick red paint dripped off the step stool. A big jug lay on its side on the dryer, paint glugging out. As he righted it, he looked above to a shelf lined with art supplies, including a row of gallon size paint containers.
Okay, now, it made sense. Digging into the hamper, he pulled out towels, using one to mop up the paint on the dryer and stool. Tossing it aside, he grabbed another and wiped up the floor. Once he’d gotten the worst of it picked up, he dampened a third towel and started cleaning up the smears and residue.
By the time he’d finished, he had no idea where Coco and Posie had gone…until he heard the water in the pipes and realized they were in the upstairs bathroom.
He figured he should leave them be, so he rinsed the towels in the kitchen sink before getting a load of laundry going. Finished, he swiped the perspiration off his forehead and listened to their voices.
They were so comfortable with each other, in a way he’d never been with his parents, and it was just so damn sweet. Something stirred inside him, an emotion he didn’t recognize. Maybe it was just the bittersweet recollection of those times he’d sit on the floor while Ari took a bath…
No, that wasn’t it.
“Stop it, Mommy,” Posie said. “I’m playing.”
“Honey, you’ve got it on the tip of your nose.” Coco had a smile in her voice. “Here, let me just…”
It was such a simple moment. It shouldn’t mean anything, but this emotion rising in him, bearing down on him—
Only after it crashed over him could he finally name it.
Gratitude.
He was so damn grateful for this family. He knew he wasn’t part of it. Not yet. Coco had done this all on her own.
But he wanted to be. Fiercely.
Then, what’re you doing down here?
Without another thought, he was crossing the living room, bounding up the stairs, and hurrying down the hallway. Their voices grew louder, water splashing, Posie making her funny flying noises, until he reached the doorway of the bathroom. They quieted when they saw him, Coco stilling as she washed her little girl’s hair. Other than the distinctively pink bubbles, you’d never know the mess she’d made.
“Oh, good.” Tilting Posie’s chin, Coco poured a plastic cup of water onto her head, one hand at her forehead to keep it from spilling into her eyes. Then, she got up and reached for a hand towel. “Can you watch her for a sec? I have to call my parents and let them know we’re running late.”
“Uh, sure?”
She smiled. “Just put the conditioner on, rinse it out, and let her play with her dolls. I won’t be gone long.” She started for the door, pausing. “Okay?”
“Yep. Got it.”
She touched his arm—it was innocent, just a quick, gentle squeeze—but that woman had the power to make him sizzle. And then she was gone.
He knelt at the side of the tub, his daughter barely aware of his existence, as she seated her dolls in a corner. Her long hair was a slick trail down her back, her delicate shoulders hunched as she worked to bend the knees of one of them.
“Ready for the conditioner?”
Those beautiful, cagey blue eyes looked up at him. “I can do it.”
She reached for the big jug, and he quickly swiped it. “Looks like you got your hands full. How about I do it this time?” Pouring a small drop into his palm, he set the bottle back down, rubbed his hands together, and stroked them through her hair. “How does your mom do it?”
She dropped her doll, giving him her full attention. “Mommy does it like this.” Those little fingertips massaged the sides of her head, and he couldn’t help grinning at her earnest expression.
“Like this?” He took over, giving her the kind of massage he’d get at a salon.
She nodded, causing a glop to slide down her forehead, dangerously near her eyes. He flicked it away.
“That feels good.” She closed her eyes, that perfect bud of a mouth opening, exposing her white chiclet teeth. When her eyelids popped open, she said, “Do you have a daughter?”
The question struck his chest like buckshot, the report tearing through tissue and muscle.
Yes.
You.
His heart swelled painfully. You’re my daughter.
He had no idea what to say. He couldn’t lie to her right now and then tell her the truth tomorrow or the next day. Thinking on his feet, he said, “You think I need to be a dad to wash your hair?”
“Yes.”
“But I have Ollie, and I wash his hair all the time.”
“You do? Can you wash it now? Go get him, and he can take a bath with me.”
Crisis averted. “He wouldn’t fit. But you can help me wash him next time, okay?”
“Okay.”
Coco rushed into the bathroom. “We are so late. Grandpa’s already put the salmon on the grill. Come on, bunny, let’s get you dressed.” She pulled the plug and reached for a towel.
The little girl stood up, arms raised, and her mom wrapped her up like a mummy and carried her over to the sink.
“Beckett says I can take a bath with Ollie next time. I want to wash his hair.”
Coco cast him a glance over her shoulder. You said what? “I’m not sure the two of you can fit in the bathtub together. He’s a big dog.”
“Actually, I said she could help me wash Ollie.”
“In the bathtub. That’s what you said.” Posie’s exasperated look made him feel traitorous and immature all at once.
He wouldn’t last a minute in a verbal cage fight with a five-year-old. “Okay, well, I meant we’d do it outside. With a hose.”
Coco set her daughter down and started combing her hair. “We’re late for dinner, so we’re lucky Beckett was kind enough to clean up the mess you made. If he hadn’t been here, we wouldn’t have been able to go, because we’d be mopping up red paint.”
Uh oh. He thought he’d been helping.
“So, we get to go to grandma and grandpa’s tonight, but you’re not going to be able to paint again until you can show me that you’ll respect the rules.”
“I’m sorry, Mommy.” With a remorseful expression like that, Bec
kett had no idea how Coco didn’t cave right then and offer her a bucket of paint and a brush.
“I know you are, sweetheart, and I’m not angry about the mess. Art can be messy. I’m frustrated, because we have a rule. If you need more supplies, you ask me, and I’ll get them. You knew I went outside to talk to Beckett. You could’ve waited for me to come back, but you did what you wanted right when you wanted it.” She set the comb down and unwound the towel. Pumping lotion onto the palm of her hand, she slathered it all over Posie’s body. “Now, since Beckett cleaned up your mess, tomorrow you’re going to clean up his.”
Her eyes went wide. “What mess?”
“You’re going to clean his house.”
Say what? He thought of the pile of dirty clothes on the floor, the half-finished glass of water on his nightstand…his toilet.
Tears welled in her eyes. “I don’t know how to clean a house, Mommy.”
“After tomorrow, you’ll know.”
“But I don’t want to clean his house.”
Trust me, I don’t want you to.
“I can promise you he didn’t want to clean up all that red paint you got everywhere. Now, instead of telling me what you don’t want to do, you need to thank him for what he did to help you.”
Those soulful eyes found him in the mirror. “Thank you, Beckett.”
“You’re welcome.” But he couldn’t help feeling like an asshole.
“Now, let’s get dressed.” Coco brushed past him.
He reached for her. “Hey. I’m sorry about that.”
She smiled. “Don’t be. I’m ridiculously happy you did it. You know those pesky natural consequences I’m into? Well, I would’ve given her one small thing to do, and the rest I’d have done myself.”
He nodded, feeling very much out of his element, like he was straddling a divide.
On one side, he had his freedom, the world he knew and understood and could navigate with ease. On the other, he saw two females who’d already formed a tight knit bond.
He didn’t know if there’d ever be room for him.
But he knew he wanted in.
He’d just have to keep doing the work to get there.