Ryan giggled. “I’m big and tall. Dad says so.”
“You sure are, and you need to stop growing. If you get any bigger, I won’t be able to pick you up.”
“You need to lift weights,” said Ryan. “That’s how Dad stays strong.”
Stella laughed, allowing the squirmy boy to slide to the floor. “There’s sugar on the counter if you want to feed the birds.”
“Yay, birds!” He needed no further convincing and ran off.
Stella peeked up at Devon from under the rim of her cap. He couldn’t resist. Two steps and she was in his arms, holding him tight. If only he was there under better circumstances.
Taking a breath, Devon drew back and rested his hands on her shoulders, waiting. He needed Stella to tell him everything would be okay—that Ryan wasn’t going anywhere.
“You’re here,” she said.
“I’m here.”
Her lips stretched into a sad smile. “I wish you didn’t have to be.”
“Me too. But it’s really good to see you.”
“You too.”
Devon’s hands fell away, and he shoved them into his pockets. “Any new developments?”
“I talked to Gerald this morning, and it’s looking good so far. We have Justin’s overdrawn bank records, maxed-out credit card statements, and three witnesses willing to testify that Justin is lazy and emotionally abusive. Basically, we’ve done everything we can and now we’re just waiting on the psychologist. Then it’s off to court. By that point, we should have a better idea how the magistrate will rule since he’ll rely heavily on the psychologist’s recommendations.”
Devon nodded. He didn’t need to be reminded how important the next few weeks would be.
“I need to finish getting ready. Have you had breakfast yet?” Stella asked.
“Yeah.”
“Well, if you’re still hungry, there’s some Vegemite in the cupboard.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Just promise me you won’t try to clean up.”
⇐ ⇑ ⇒
Janelle Renning closed the file on her desk. “Justin, I have to be honest with you. Things aren’t looking good.” She had lost that sympathetic smile weeks ago. “Your financial situation is much worse than you led me to believe, and Gerald Larsen now has three witnesses willing to testify against you and your character. Do the names Bethany Marsh, Michael Woods, and Marti Lands sound familiar?”
Yeah, they sounded familiar. One good-for-nothing ex-girlfriend and two cocky bosses who thought they were better than everyone else. “I told you my past isn’t pretty. Bethany is a deranged ex-girlfriend and the other two are old employers who think I’m unreliable. When I worked for them, I struggled with depression and couldn’t handle going to work some days. They fired me because of that.”
“Justin, I want to believe you, I do. You seem like a good guy, but since you never saw a doctor for your depression, there’s no documentation, and I can’t find a single decent character witness for you.”
“But what about Jackson and Michael? They’re willing to testify on my behalf.”
“They’re drunks, Justin. Putting them on the stand would only hurt your case.”
Janelle was starting to sound snooty. Like she knew better than him. “Listen. I found a good job, just like you asked me to. I even moved to a two-bedroom flat.”
“Yes, but a new flat and a few weeks of waiting tables won’t convince any magistrate you’re going to remain permanently employed. Not with your history. You need to show the court you really have changed—that you’re ready to take on the responsibility of a child.”
This woman knew nothing about him or his life. Janelle had probably never waited tables, stocked shelves, or cashiered for a paltry minimum wage. No, instead she sat on her swanky leather chair and looked down on everyone else from her office window. Everything came easy to people like her.
Unlike him. Justin could work his entire life and never get ahead, so why try? Why waste away his life trapped in a demoralizing, low-level job? He was better than that. He deserved better. Which was why he needed his son.
Justin looked down at his hands. “What more can I do? I can’t live the rest of my life not knowing my son.”
“Well, your case isn’t completely hopeless. You do have a few things going for you. You’re Ryan’s biological father, which is huge. You’re also Australian. In fact, this case would be easy if it wasn’t for your unemployment history and an ex-girlfriend ready to testify that you’re emotionally abusive.”
Janelle twisted back and forth in her high-backed chair. “If only you were married or at least engaged to a nice girl. Then at least we could show that Ryan would have two parents.”
Justin leaned forward, suddenly interested. “That would work? How long would I need to be engaged for?”
“I was only joking, Justin.”
“I know a girl who . . . well, owes me a favor. If she agreed to become my fiancée, at least during the psychological interview and court proceedings, would that help my case?”
“Well, yes . . . but that’s unethical. You can’t do that.” Janelle’s voice was hesitant.
“Of course not,” Justin amended. “The truth is, I really want to marry Nicole, and this might give me the courage to actually propose. If she accepts, would that be enough time to convince the psychologist?”
Janelle nodded slowly. “It could, but—”
“No buts, Janelle.” Justin flashed one of his winning smiles. “Just leave it to me.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
The psychological interview was far more brutal than Devon had imagined. Over the course of two weeks, his life was peeled apart, bit by bit, exposing everything—including the glaring black marks against him: An American. Not the father. Single. Currently unemployed—although with that last one, his financial statements should show that wasn’t an issue.
Worst of all had been the expression on the psychologist’s face when he’d learned why Lindsay had chosen Devon. Words couldn’t describe the disbelief, the “Lindsay must have been insane” look. Hopefully Justin was going through a similar, if not worse, experience.
Out of those two weeks, Ryan had spent four afternoons with Justin. It had nearly killed Devon to let the psychologist take him away, even though he knew Ryan would return. But if the day ever came that Ryan was forced to leave permanently . . . well, Devon didn’t know how he’d react to that. He couldn’t stand to even think about it.
Stella was the only reason Devon hadn’t gone completely crazy. At the end of each grueling day, she was there with her planned outings, picnics on the beach, ferry rides, and movie nights. Anything to bring some normalcy back to their lives.
And it worked, for the most part. The only problem was that Devon’s feelings for Stella grew stronger every day, and he couldn’t do anything about that either. It was as though he was suspended, unable to move on with his life until the trial was over. And even then . . . who knew what would happen?
On the last day of interviews, Stella knocked on their hotel room door shortly after the psychologist had left. “Pack your bags,” she announced. “We’re getting out of town for a few days.”
“Where?” Devon asked.
“Byron Bay. A beautiful slice of heaven—and my home.”
Devon could have kissed her. A getaway would be perfect—exactly what they all needed. Click. TV off.
“Hey,” Ryan protested.
“Didn’t you hear Stella? We’re going on a road trip.”
Ryan leaped off the couch. “Yay! A trip!”
An hour later, they left Sydney behind and headed north. For the most part, the Pacific Highway followed the coastline, with views of the ocean as they drove through walls of tropical bushes and trees.
Devon loved the rural feel of it all. It wasn’t anything like the Pacific coast in America. They didn’t have to navigate through multiple dense, populated cities. Instead, the long, scenic highways led them through occasional
rural towns. Every now and then they’d come across a larger city—but nothing like Sydney. The landscape was untouched and unsullied. Beautiful.
The sun set, taking the views with it. Ryan had fallen asleep in the backseat, so Devon readjusted the pillow and tucked a blanket around him.
“Are you doing okay?” Devon asked Stella. “I can drive if you’re getting tired.”
“I’m fine, but thanks.”
He gently massaged the nape of her neck. Her skin felt soft and warm beneath his fingers. Even after hours in the car, she was still gorgeous.
“Tell me about Byron Bay,” he said.
Stella smiled. “You’re going to love it there. The city is on the easternmost peninsula, so it’s literally surrounded by beaches. The weather is perfect, the water warm, and the views incomparable. It’s the perfect seaside town.”
“Why do you live in Sydney then?”
“After my parents died, I needed a change. Byron Bay has a lot of memories that were hard for me to deal with, so I didn’t come back for a while. I graduated from law school and then took a job in Sydney before I started visiting again. Now Byron Bay is a lovely place I go to escape when I can. It may sound strange, but I feel closer to my parents when I’m there. I’m looking forward to showing it to you.”
“And I’m looking forward to seeing it tomorrow when the sun comes up.”
She tapped the clock on the radio. Twelve forty-five. “You mean later today.”
“Wow. Time sure flies when I’m with you, doesn’t it? What time do you think we’ll get there?”
“Probably around two. I hope Ryan likes to sleep in.”
“He doesn’t.”
A little over an hour later, Stella pulled into a driveway. The headlights highlighted a small rambler with a one-car garage. “Where are we? I figured we’d be staying in a hotel.”
“This is the house where I grew up. My parents left it to me when they died.”
“You kept it?”
“Of course. I could never sell this place.”
Stella was full of surprises. “You never told me you were a home owner.”
“You never asked.”
“Fair enough,” he said. “Who keeps it up?”
“My neighbor’s son takes care of the yard, but the inside is another matter. Be prepared to find some dust.”
“Good. Then I can tell you that your house is as dodgy as mine,” he said.
“Hardly. My walls are painted, the floor isn’t warped, and the cupboards all have doors.”
“Ah, but mine isn’t dusty.” Wait. How long had they been in Australia? “Scratch that. It isn’t as dusty.”
Stella laughed.
Devon gently picked up Ryan and followed Stella into the musty house and down a short, narrow hallway. He tucked Ryan in bed and brushed the hair off his forehead. “Sweet dreams, kiddo.”
Pulling the door closed, Devon sighed and leaned against it. “What am I going to do if they take him away?” he whispered.
“Shhh.” Stella touched her finger to his lips. “They’re not going to, so no more of that kind of talk. We came here to forget about the hearing, so we’re going to have a fun few days and not worry about anything else, okay?”
“Sounds good to me.”
Devon couldn’t stop his fingers from touching the soft skin of her cheek. During the past few weeks it had been difficult to keep his distance, but he had. Now, though, he wasn’t sure he could anymore. Whether it was the feel of her skin or the lateness of the hour, Devon caved to the temptation and brushed his mouth against hers. He meant to keep it light and brief, but a shockwave swept through him, and before he could think about the consequences, his arms were around her, pulling her close. He was like a starved person placed in front of a buffet of food. He couldn’t get enough. She was too soft, too beautiful.
Stella finally broke free and took a step back, gulping in air as her wide eyes stared up at him. Devon fought the urge to pull her back; he wasn’t ready to let her go. He didn’t think he’d ever be ready to let her go again. But Stella was right. Not only was it late, they were both tired, and who knew where things would’ve led if she hadn’t broken away.
What Devon needed was distance. The sooner the better.
“Which room is mine?”
Stella blinked, then pointed a limp finger at the door next to Ryan’s.
It took all of Devon’s willpower to step into the room and firmly close the door behind him.
Chapter Twenty-Five
With Devon’s kiss fresh on her lips, Stella somehow managed to find her room and crawl into bed. She snuggled under the covers and closed her eyes, but sleep never came. The kiss, however, came again and again, thumping around in her head like a ball in a pinball machine.
Why had Devon kissed her? Had something changed? Was he too tired to think straight? Would the morning bring a day of awkwardness where they pretended nothing had happened, or would he kiss her again?
And again.
And again.
Yeah, that would be nice.
When the sun finally peeked through the windows, Stella threw on some clothes and left the house. She needed groceries as well as some fresh air. At some point, she’d have to face Devon again, and she wanted an apron and a skillet to hide behind when he appeared. Especially if he intended to pretend like nothing had happened.
An hour later, Stella returned, laden with grocery sacks. She stumbled into the house and ran into a wet-haired Devon, looking refreshed and handsome as ever. Stella frowned. It wasn’t fair that he looked so good—not when she had bags under her bloodshot eyes. She started past him, only to be halted by his hand on her arm.
“Let me help with those.” Devon bent and kissed her cheek before taking the bags from her.
He’d kissed her again. In broad daylight with his senses intact. Or at least she hoped they were intact.
Devon set the groceries on the table, then reached for her hand and tugged her to him. “Ryan’s in the shower, so we only have a few minutes.”
“A few minutes for what?”
“For this.” He kissed her again, this time on the lips. “I’ve decided to take your advice. For the next two days, I’m going to pretend like nothing is wrong and not worry about our future.”
It was like Stella’s head was stuffed with cotton. This had to be a dream. Either that or she’d gone mad and had fantasized an imaginary world. If so, forget therapy. She liked being delusional.
“Our future?” she repeated.
“Yeah. It’s something we need to talk about, but not until we get back to Sydney. In the meantime, I plan to kiss you as much as I want—unless, of course, you have a problem with it.”
“No.” Stella shook her head. “No problem.” Delusional or not, she’d enjoy it while it lasted.
“Dad!” Ryan’s voice echoed down the hall. “The water is cold!”
Stella smiled. “I guess that means my shower will have to wait.”
“Afraid so. I’ve learned to shower before Ryan. He won’t come out until the water runs cold.”
“You could have told me that last night, you know.”
“Sorry. I guess I had other things on my mind.” He winked.
After breakfast they packed a lunch, grabbed some beach towels, and walked the half mile to the beach. There they played, built sand castles, tossed a football, and picnicked on the sand. On a day like today, it was easy for Stella to forget about the trial and what life would be like after Byron Bay.
“I see Ryan made a new friend,” Stella said when Devon plopped down beside her. Ryan dug in the sand several yards away next to a blond-haired boy. They looked to be about the same age.
“Yeah. He’s here with his mom.” Devon pointed to a woman who was reading on the other side of the boys. “They’ve decided to dig a tunnel, but I’ll be shocked if they actually connect at some point.”
“I’m glad Ryan found a playmate. It looks like they’re having fun.” Stella’s toes pl
ayed with the warm, happy sand. At least it looked happy. As did the ocean, the sky, and the landscape. Everything seemed happy to her that day.
Rolling to his side, Devon said, “I still can’t believe this is where you grew up—a half a mile away from all this. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to leave here.”
“I know what you mean.” A light, happy breeze tickled her face.
“So is the surfboard in the garage yours?”
“Yeah. I’m no professional, but growing up here, how could I not learn to surf? My dad was a wonderful teacher.”
“Why didn’t we bring it with us?”
“Oh, I can surf anytime. Right now, I’d rather hang out with you and Ryan.”
“There’s always tomorrow.”
“I’ll feel the same way then too.”
“Come on,” Devon said. “I want to see you surf.”
“Why?”
“Maybe I don’t think you really can,” he teased.
Stella smiled. “You think a dare is going to get me to surf? What are we, teenagers? You need to start spending more time with adults, and I’m not talking about your siblings—they don’t count.”
“Why not?”
“Because they’re almost as bad as you are.”
“I’m telling them you said that.”
“See? There you go again,” Stella said. “Honestly, how old are you?”
“You’re asking to get dunked, you know.” Devon moved toward her.
“You dunk me and it’s Vegemite sandwiches for dinner.”
“I’m a big boy. I can make my own dinner.” He lunged, grabbed her arm, and swung her over his shoulder.
Her legs kicked and her fists beat against his back. “Let me go!”
“I don’t think so.”
“Ryan, save me!”
But Ryan only giggled.
Moments later, Devon dove into a wave, taking her with him. Salty water forced its way up her nose and into the back of her throat. She coughed and gasped until Devon grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet.
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