“You are in so much trouble,” she spluttered. Cupping her hands, she hurled a small wave of water in his face.
He splashed back before his arms caught her and pulled her close.
“I’ll save you, Stella!” Ryan yelled as he ran toward them.
“Some knight in shining armor you are,” Stella called back. “You’re a little late.”
Devon scooped up Ryan, and they played and splashed until salt stung Ryan’s eyes and he wanted to go play in the sand again.
“Do you want to help make the tunnel?” Ryan tugged on Stella’s and Devon’s hands.
“Sure,” said Devon. “But only if Stella helps.”
“I’ll help.” They spent the remainder of the afternoon connecting tunnels and soaking up the warmth of the sun.
Later that night, Stella rummaged through the fridge and grocery bags, pulling out ingredients to make spaghetti Bolognese. While the pasta boiled, she browned the beef and sausage, humming quietly to herself. Hands snaked around her waist, and Stella smiled as she leaned back against Devon.
“Smells good,” he breathed into her ear.
“It’ll taste good too if you don’t distract me.”
“I wasn’t talking about the food, although that smells good too.”
Stella twisted around, and her hands traveled up his arms. “Ta. You clean up pretty good yourself.”
Devon grinned and kissed her until she giggled and pulled free.
“Stop. You’re going to make me burn dinner.”
“Okay, fine.” He released her. “What can I do to help?”
Stella nodded toward a pan with boiling water. “The noodles should be done. Would you mind testing them?”
“Sure.” He picked up a fork, fished a noodle out, and immediately flung it above her head. It ricocheted off the ceiling and landed on her forehead.
Devon’s lips twitched. “Nope. Not done yet.”
Stella glared as she picked the noodle off her face and threw it into the sink. “Once again, I’m questioning your age.”
“Everyone knows that if a noodle sticks to the ceiling, it’s done. If it doesn’t, it’s not.”
“Of all the ridiculous things,” Stella said. “Next time taste one or, at the very least, test it above your own head, will you?”
“But it looks so much better on you.”
“Dad!” Ryan’s voice carried down the hall. “It’s cold!”
“Saved by the child,” Stella muttered.
Devon brushed past her. “Yeah, I was really worried. What were you going to do? Tickle me?”
Stella scooped out a noodle and threw it at his retreating back. It stuck to his shirt. “Oh look, they must be done now.”
Devon brushed it free as his laughter echoed through the house, warming every nook and cranny.
The meat forgotten, Stella admired his broad shoulders as he walked down the hall. Giggles and squeals floated through the house as Stella’s eyes drifted shut. She felt the words as much as she heard them: Please, God. Please let this be a taste of my future.
The aroma of burned meat wafted into her nose, and her eyes flew open. She lunged for the skillet and quickly removed it from the heat.
Hopefully God wouldn’t take “taste” literally.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The night before the scheduled hearing, the hotel room was too small and stifling for Devon. Not even Stella, when she showed up at the hotel with Chinese take-out, could make it go away. Even Ryan seemed to sense something was wrong.
“I don’t want to go to bed,” he whined.
“You don’t have to yet. Just get your pajamas on. Grandma and Grandpa will be here soon to read you a book.” His parents’ plane had landed an hour earlier.
“I don’t want a story.”
“You love stories. Especially You Are Special.”
“No, I don’t.”
Stella only shrugged, looking as helpless and worried as he was.
“Let’s go talk in your room for a minute.” Devon lifted Ryan and carried him to the room, where he sat on the bed with Ryan on his lap. “What’s wrong, buddy?”
Ryan frowned at the ground and folded his arms. “I don’t want to live with Justin.”
“Who said you’re going to live with him?”
“He did.”
“Justin told you that?”
Ryan nodded.
Devon wanted to rage out of the hotel, find Justin’s house, and beat him senseless. What kind of person would say that to a child? Certainly not someone who cared about Ryan or his feelings.
Devon let out a breath and pulled Ryan against him. He wanted to tell Ryan not to worry—that he’d never have to live with Justin. But what if that wasn’t true? What if Justin won? Please, no. “Listen to me. Justin shouldn’t have said that to you. Stella and I will do everything we can to keep you with me, okay? Aussie and I would miss you too much otherwise.”
“I wish Aussie was here.”
“I know.” Devon brushed his fingers through Ryan’s curls. “But Grandma and Grandpa are coming, and I know they’ll want to read you a bedtime story. Will you let them when they get here?”
“Okay.”
A knock on the door reverberated through their hotel room.
“They’re here!” Ryan said, running to greet them.
Lydia scooped up Ryan, and Devon hugged his father. Their presence elevated his spirits in a way nothing else could.
“Thanks for coming,” Devon said.
“You couldn’t have kept us away.” His mother patted Devon’s arm and breezed by him, carrying her grandson to the couch.
Lydia hugged Stella with her free arm and smiled. “It’s wonderful to see you again, my dear.”
“It’s great to see you both,” said Stella.
Burying Ryan in her arms, Lydia sat on the couch. “You’ve been gone for a long time, so you owe me lots of snuggles.”
Ryan giggled and tried to wriggle free.
“Don’t forget about my snuggles.” Jack said, pulling a piece of candy from his pocket. “Look, I even brought a bribe.”
“Yay!” Ryan jumped off Lydia’s lap and ran to his grandpa.
“That was a low trick, Jack, even for you.”
Jack heaved Ryan off the ground and hugged him tight. “If I have to play hardball to get some lovin’ from my grandson, then I will.”
Stella picked up her purse. “Well, it’s getting late, so I should be going.”
“I’ll take you home,” said Devon.
“No, your parents just arrived. I’ll be fine.”
“And we’ll still be here when Devon gets back,” Lydia said. “We’ll see you in the morning, Stella.”
Sighing, Stella nodded. “All right. Good night.”
When the train dropped them off near Stella’s flat, Devon threaded his fingers through hers. Their steps slowed, and he pulled her to a stop along the side of a dark and empty street. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”
“What?”
“Us.”
“Us?” she asked. “Right now?”
Picking up her other hand, Devon pulled her closer. “I wasn’t going to tell you this yet, but now’s as good a time as any, I guess. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and I’m considering moving to Sydney. Actually, I’m more than considering. I’ve already made up my mind.”
“But—”
“If I’m granted custody of Ryan, which I hope and pray that I am, I’ll bring him with me. And if I’m not,” Devon said, not wanting to even think about it, “I’ll come back on my own and hope the court will let me be a part of Ryan’s life. Either way, I want to be where I can see you and Ryan every day. It’s no longer an option for me to stay away from you.”
When Stella didn’t say anything right away, Devon added, “But if you feel differently—”
On her tiptoes, Stella pressed her mouth against his. Devon’s arms encircled her, and he drew her close, loving everything about her.
Her eyes, her hair, her charm, her kindness, her strength—everything.
Somehow, Stella had become a part of him, as though he was only a shell of himself without her. He needed her like he needed happiness and could no longer contemplate a life without her in it.
Not anymore.
⇐ ⇑ ⇒
Stella rested her head against the closed door inside her flat. Devon had said exactly what she’d wanted to hear and yet there were still too many what-ifs to really believe she could be that happy. What if Justin was granted custody? What if the judge didn’t give Devon visitation rights? Could Devon still live in Australia, knowing Ryan was so close and yet still out of his reach?
On the other hand, if Devon was awarded custody, could Stella stand by and watch him take Ryan away from the Pierce family? Knowing Lindsay, Stella was sure she’d be fine with it. In fact, she was probably cheering them on from heaven’s sidelines, yelling at her to stop being so stupid.
Sighing, Stella pushed away from the door. It was no use sifting through all the what-ifs—not when the list contained so many. One more day and she’d be able to narrow it down.
One more day.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
No windows. Even with the rows of florescent lighting, the room was still dark and dreary. Or maybe it was just Devon.
“Why are they wearing those things on their heads?” Ryan pointed at the barristers.
Sure enough, the two barristers wore long, gray, tightly curled wigs. Like the powdered ones worn by men in the eighteenth century.
“They’re wigs,” Stella answered Ryan. “Barristers and magistrates always wear them in the courtroom.”
“They look funny.”
Devon ruffled Ryan’s hair. “Just be grateful you don’t have to wear one. I know I am.” To Stella, he whispered, “Hey, is that why you became a solicitor rather than a barrister?”
“Are you saying I wouldn’t look good in one of those?”
“You’d look better than those two.”
Justin walked in wearing a tailored suit, holding the hand of a petite, blue-eyed brunette. His arm snaked around the girl as he stopped next to Gerald. “Stella, Devon, Ryan, I’d like you to meet Nicole Standing, my fiancée.”
Fiancée? What fiancée?
“I didn’t know you were dating anyone,” Stella said, appearing unaffected by the news.
“For a while now. We made it official last week.”
“How convenient.”
While Stella remained outwardly calm, Devon seethed, wanting to throttle Justin and send the girl back to wherever she came from. Who was she anyway?
As Justin walked away, Stella laid a hand on Devon’s arm. “Don’t let him get to you.”
“Too late.”
“All rise for His Honour,” a voice echoed through the courtroom.
“And it begins,” Stella said.
If Devon thought the psychological analysis was bad, the hearing was even worse. It lasted three long, vicious days. One by one they were all called to the stand, with the exception of Ryan. Devon’s turn came, and he calmly answered Gerald’s questions, feeling more and more confident—at least until Janelle stood to cross-examine him.
“How well did you know Lindsay?” she asked.
“She lived with my family for nine months,” Devon said.
“How long ago was that?”
“A little over ten years.”
“Have you had any contact with her since then?”
“No.”
“Why do you think Lindsay left you her son?”
“I don’t know. I never got the chance to ask her.”
“So you’re telling me that you had no idea Lindsay had listed you as the guardian in her will?”
“That’s right.”
“I have to admit that I find it interesting Lindsay would leave her son to someone she hadn’t spoken to in over ten years, don’t you?”
“No,” said Devon. “She did what—”
“It just doesn’t seem like something a person in their right mind would do,” Janelle said.
“Objection,” Gerald called.
“Withdrawn,” Janelle said. “Now are you currently employed, Devon?”
“No. But—”
“I only need a yes or no.” Janelle’s voice oozed sweetness. “You’ve had Ryan in your custody for over a year now. Has he had any trouble acclimating to American culture?”
Devon frowned. “Well, change is difficult for everyone, but—”
“Thank you.”
Janelle continued in this vein for what seemed like hours. Sure, Gerald had allowed Devon to defend many of the same questions, but Janelle had a nasty way of turning everything around. By the end of his testimony, Devon wanted to strangle the woman. Did she have any idea what she was doing?
On the final day, the psychologist at last took the stand. Finally. Some answers. But would they be the answers Devon wanted to hear?
Magistrate Dover didn’t waste any time. “Dr. Stephens, after conducting your interviews and evaluations, will you please share with us your recommendations?”
Silence coated the room and Devon leaned forward in his seat, clasping and unclasping his shaking hands.
Dr. Stephens scanned the courtroom, his gaze stopping briefly on Justin and then Devon. “It is my opinion that Ryan should be placed with his biological father, Justin Wells.”
Nothing could have prepared Devon for the way those words impacted him—like he’d been struck in the gut with the world’s fastest baseball. His hands flew to the armrests of the chair, and his fingernails dug into the wood. It was the only way he could keep himself from flying out of his seat and challenging the psychologist. How could Dr. Stephens possibly side with Justin? How?
Dr. Stephens went on, “This has been a difficult recommendation because I believe both men to be capable and able to make Ryan a good parent. Devon Pierce has proven to be a more than adequate guardian for Ryan. He’s financially secure, and Ryan genuinely cares for him.”
Then why are you recommending Justin? Why? Why? Why?
“However,” the doctor continued, “Justin Wells is Ryan’s biological father. He’s also Australian, which will allow Ryan to be raised in his own country. In addition, Justin has relocated to a flat with two bedrooms, has held down a steady job for the past two months, and has recently become engaged to be married. All of which show me that Justin is more than willing to make the necessary changes in his life to accommodate Ryan.
“As for the accusations against him, I have spent considerable time with Justin and saw no indication that he is emotionally abusive. Yes, he’s awkward around Ryan, but they’ve had so little contact that it’s understandable. I’m confident they’ll become more comfortable together over time—especially if the court recommends counseling sessions. As for living arrangements, Justin’s apartment is old and could use some renovations, but it will do for now. Justin is also deeply in debt, but he’s working to free himself from those obligations. Regardless, I don’t believe debt’s a valid reason to keep a father from raising his biological son.”
Dr. Stephens paused. “Ryan is now five years of age and has lived with Devon Pierce for over a year, so the change is going to be difficult for the child. That’s why I’m also recommending a gradual move from Devon to Justin over the course of three or four months, assuming Devon will be able to stay in Australia for that long.”
That’s gradual? Devon wanted to shout. Ten years was gradual. Not three short months. That was nothing. Devon wanted to jump up and tell Dr. Stephens he was wrong—that he’d misjudged Justin. The doctor needed to understand the kind of life Ryan would be subjected to if he were placed with his father.
But an outburst like that would only make things worse, so Devon clamped his mouth shut. Not even Stella’s gentle touch on his arm could ease the penetrating feeling of horror and helplessness that consumed him.
As soon as the official judgment date had been set, Devon leaped from
his chair and practically ran for the nearest exit. He needed to get out of the courtroom and away from his parents, Stella, and Ryan. He needed to be alone—to battle his demons in private. Devon staggered out into the crisp June morning and circled around to the back of the building. A large tree trunk beckoned him, and he collapsed against it, slamming his fist into the flaky bark as he fought back tears.
How could he give Ryan up? And how could God have let this happen? Devon wanted to fight—to run back to the courtroom and tell the magistrate exactly why Ryan should belong to him. He wanted the judge to see the anguish on his face, to know exactly what would happen if Ryan were taken away from him.
A hand rested on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” said Stella, a pained look on her face.
Devon was afraid to ask, but he had to know. “How often do magistrates rule against the psychologist’s recommendations?”
“It happens, but it’s rare.”
An unseen weight pressed on Devon’s chest as if trying to suffocate him. He couldn’t do this anymore, couldn’t handle the throbbing of his head or the sick feeling in his gut. Devon needed it to ease up. He needed relief.
Things happened for a reason, right? More than ever, Devon needed to believe that there was a wise, loving, and all-knowing God who was in charge—who knew what He was doing. Maybe the psychologist was right. Maybe Ryan should be placed with his father. His real father. Maybe Ryan would impact Justin the same way he’d impacted Devon. He didn’t want to believe it, but it was the only way he could keep the pain from tearing him apart.
“Maybe Justin has changed. Maybe Ryan will be good for him and everything will work out for the best,” Devon said.
Stella’s eyes widened, and she shook her head. “He hasn’t changed. I don’t believe that for a second and neither do you.”
“I have to believe that or I’m going to go crazy.” Devon’s fist pounded against the tree again. How could she remain so calm while he was dying inside? “Why didn’t you just let me pay Justin to stay away in the beginning? This could have all been over months ago.”
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