by Kira Blakely
“Yeah?”
“I—I was wondering when you and Nicki will have to leave. I’m sure you’ve got those jobs to get back to.” You know, the ones you won’t talk about. “And I certainly don’t want to keep you from your lives. As you can probably tell by now, Penny and I are doing great together. Life has never been better.”
George sniffed. “That’s debatable.”
“Excuse me?” I turned my head and studied him again.
He didn’t blush or shy away from my gaze. The old, dumpy fellow looked down his nose at me as if I were a kid all over again. A kid he’d hardly ever visited.
“We’ve been here a week,” George said. “We’ve hardly seen enough of you to make a judgement as to whether you’re actually managing here.”
Judgement? Who did he think he was? “I’m sorry, what now?”
“We want what’s best for Penny.”
“For Penny,” I replied, and the frustration that’d sprung up at Beckett leaving without so much as a goodbye text, without a note or a call or anything else, fired up instantly. “You don’t even know Penny. You’ve been here a week. Hell, neither of you even met Shelly, her mother. You weren’t at Michael’s wedding. You weren’t even at his funeral.” My voice picked up a notch, and I forced it back down again.
Come on, Olivia, don’t scream in the park. Don’t draw attention. Don’t make things difficult for Penny.
What had frustrated me the most this morning, what really fucked with my mind, was that we’d had plans! I’d planned on taking the silk dress to a seamstress this morning to have it made into a bear for Penny, and instead, I was here, sitting with two people I barely knew, simply because they were blood relations.
And I was listening to their bullshit judgments on top of that.
I’d passed the point in my life where I’d simply shut up because someone older than me had something to say. It wasn’t a lack of respect for others—it was a growth in respect for myself. Maybe, it was even belief in myself.
“Now, there’s no need to get upset,” George said and patted my knee again. “See, this is exactly what Nicki and I spoke about the other day. You’re too high-strung, and we’re a little concerned about the company you’re keeping.”
I shifted, my eyes so wide I probably looked like a drugged-up weirdo. “Huh?”
George let out a sigh as if it pained him to say what came next. “Nicki told me about that man who was in your apartment when she brought you dinner the other night.”
His wording made me out to be a hopeless case. Brought me dinner. A strange man in my apartment. “He wasn’t a strange man,” I replied, as evenly as I could, though my face still burned—and not from the sun. “He’s Penny’s godfather and Michael’s best friend. He’s a good man, and Penny loves him.”
A good man? Beckett would’ve laughed if he were here, and then, he’d probably have pulled George up by the scruff of his neck, called him a prick, and dragged him away to God knew where.
“Beckett Price,” George said and picked a piece of grass on the edge of the blanket.
Penny giggled again and ran after the ball. Nicki smiled. This was surreal.
“You know his name?”
“Of course,” George said. “I make it my business to know what’s going on with my family. And that’s what we are, Olivia. Family. You understand that, right? Penny is family, too.”
I gaped at him.
He’d never been involved in our family.
“As soon as your aunt told me about this Beckett character, I looked him up. I don’t like what I found. I know you’re in a relationship with him, Olivia. What kind of influence do you think he’ll be on Penny? He’s irresponsible. He sleeps with strippers and is a raging alcoholic.”
“That’s—” I put up my palm, swallowed, and breathed. Stay calm. Stay mature. For Penny. Remember Penny. “That’s a series of terrible assumptions, George. Firstly, I’m not dating Beckett. He’s a friend, and he’s stopped by to help me take care of Penny a few times. That’s it.” Liar, liar, lacy panties on fire. “And secondly, those are just rumors. And even if they were true, you’d have no right to interfere in my decisions for Penny’s wellbeing. I know what’s best for her.” I thumbed my chest. “My brother entrusted me with sole guardianship and custody of his daughter upon his death. What I say goes.”
Man, it felt good to throw my weight around like that, especially after the way Nicki had acted with Penny before. It felt good to believe I was doing the right thing and not doubt it.
George’s mouth opened, but I cut across him before he could get there. “I seriously appreciate the fact that you guys came all the way up here to help out, but it’s totally out of the blue for me. I don’t even know you, George. Penny doesn’t know you. We’re just starting to get settled into our routine, and we don’t need these distractions right now. If you can’t accept that, I’m afraid you’re going to have to leave.”
George’s eyebrows had crawled so far up his brow they raised his hairline. “I’m afraid we won’t be leaving,” he said, at last.
Birds chirped in the background. Someone kicked a ball. A child laughed. A dog barked.
“Then you’ll stop telling us how to live our lives.”
“Nicki and I discussed this at length last night. We’ve seen enough in this past week to verify our initial concerns about you raising Penny on your own.” George rose from the blanket, and I did, too.
“What’s that mean?” I asked.
“It means, Olivia, that we’re certain you don’t have Penny’s best interests at heart. It means that we’re going to see a lawyer tomorrow, and we’ll be seeking full custody of Penny. She belongs with two parental figures who can adequately care for her emotional needs. Not a spoiled girl who lucked out.”
My jaw dropped. Lucked out? Huh?! “Are you insane?” Penny—custody—Penny. The words drifted through my mind. I couldn’t grasp one of them for longer than a millisecond. Too much. Too fast. “Are you insane?” I repeated.
George stepped in close and fast. “We know you got all the money, Olivia.”
Money? What the fuck? Mikey’s money? I hadn’t touched it. I had my own inheritance from my parents, which I’d invested or saved. The same money I was planning on using to start my own company instead of being the spoiled girl everyone knew.
Mikey’s money was in a trust fund for Penny. It would be made available to her and only her on her eighteenth birthday.
I stammered wordlessly.
“She’s ours. Mark my words. She’s ours.” Sweat rolled down George’s forehead, and I was transfixed by a thick droplet until it reached the bridge of his nose.
Tears welled in the corners of my eyes. I struggled to breathe. To think.
“No,” I managed. Then I marched across the blanket toward Penny. I swept her off the grass and tucked her against my side. “Come on, honey,” I said. “We’re leaving. We’ve still got to make that teddy, remember?”
Penny’s expression switched from frustration at being interrupted in her game of catch to joy. “Teddy! Silk-ee teddy.”
“That’s right,” I said, swallowing hard again and again.
It was an excuse. No way could I find someone to do the teddy today. No, I couldn’t even breathe.
I placed Penny in her stroller and headed out of the park, down the street toward the one place I shouldn’t go, and the one place I had to.
It wasn’t home.
It was him.
Chapter 17
Beckett
This house was my last sanctuary from myself. If I locked myself inside and stayed glued to my computer, working, going over the market, checking our current investments, Skyping with business contacts, I could push aside the bullshit social media crap. The calls I’d received about Olivia.
I could push her aside, too. Deal with her later, not now.
A pack of Camel Crush sat on the edge of my desk, next to an empty ash tray. I hadn’t touched it yet, but it was there, t
empting me. A vice I didn’t need, just like booze.
I gripped my forehead and sat down in front of my laptop, with a view over the city. A priceless view, in fact. No one in Manhattan lived this high up, in a building this exclusive.
The entirety of one wall was glass. There was a skylight, one entire room for a shower, rather than a cubicle, and a kitchen that would’ve made Gordon Ramsey jizz in his pants.
This place was supposed to be a sanctuary, but it felt like a prison and had since I’d move in.
“Fuck,” I said and shut my eyes. “Fuck.”
For the millionth time in the past couple months, I went over that night in my mind.
Walking into my own home and finding people waiting. Mostly Michael’s friends. Fuckers who hadn’t been there after he’d died. They’d staged an intervention for me, except Michael was late.
The anger of that moment resonated through my chest.
These people I barely knew, standing in my living room, daring to challenge me. To tell me I had to quit drinking, to quit partying.
And then the call had come through. Shelly and Michael had been in an accident.
I was responsible.
If I’d cleaned up sooner…
The buzzer on my wall sounded, and I rose from the desk and stormed over to the intercom. I lifted the receiver off the cradle, bracing my palm against the wall. “What?”
“Sir, there’s a woman and a child here to see you. The woman’s name is—”
“Send them up,” I said and slammed the receiver home.
Olivia. Here. With Penny.
It had to be something serious. Olivia had always been prideful. There wasn’t a chance in hell she’d come over here without a good reason. Christ, she hadn’t even attempted calling me. Not even a text.
She understood that when I chose to disappear, I didn’t come back unless I wanted to.
Olivia didn’t chase. Maybe that was the reason I loved chasing her.
Loved? Fuck off.
I waited, staring at the pack of cigarettes, tapping my fingers lazily on the back of my leather couch.
Noise rattled in the hall. The chatter from Penny, but nothing from Olivia.
She knocked.
I pushed off and walked to the door, instilling that natural-born swagger into every step. Finally, I drew back the chain and opened for her.
Penny drew my attention. The little girl wore a pink, floppy sun hat and a massive smile. “Beck poo!” She threw out her arms.
I grinned back at her, then shifted my gaze up to Olivia. If I hadn’t looked at Penny first, I wouldn’t have had the strength to look away from this woman.
Rage screamed through me. “What happened?” I growled.
Tears streamed down Olivia’s cheeks. She pressed a finger to her lips, then gestured to Penny, who sat in her stroller and couldn’t see her aunt’s distress.
“Come inside,” I said and stepped back.
Olivia pushed the stroller into my apartment and stopped just short of the sofa. She let go of the bar and pressed her palms to her eyes, her shoulders shaking, gently.
“Beck poo!” Penny cried, still lost in her toddler joy.
I strode around the stroller and bent in front of it. “Hey, Penny.” I wriggled my nose at her. “Are you ready for naptime? It’s got to be your naptime, now.” I looked up at O for confirmation, and she gave it with a nod. “Did you eat?”
“No food! I had sammiches!”
“Good, good,” I said and unhooked her from the stroller. I carried Penny through to the guestroom where I’d kept the one thing Michael had found hilarious the first time he’d visited.
A guestroom made for their family specifically. A king-sized for Mommy and Daddy, and a crib for little Penny.
I’d let them in. They’d been my extended family. They’d actually visited me here, and I’d played with Penny and babysat her once or twice when they went out. I’d been the proverbial uncle, albeit one who’d scare the fuck out of most people.
I placed Penny in the crib then walked to the closet, brought out some of the blankets I’d bought for her six months or so ago when I’d first installed her crib. I gave her the blanket, then shut the curtains with the click of a button on the wall.
“Sleep, Penny. When you wake up, we’ll party.”
“Party!” she yelled.
Fuck, that probably wasn’t the best joke to make. “Settle down, sweetheart,” I said.
The little girl grinned at me from the gloom. She waved and I waved back, and finally, she lay down.
I nodded and shut the door then walked back through to the living room, burning inside. Searing hot lava had replaced the blood in my veins.
Olivia leaned against the back of the sofa, bracing herself with both palms, her head hanging, tears dried now, but she was still trembling on the spot.
“What the hell is going on?” I asked, keeping my voice low. “Who did this to you?”
She swallowed, but didn’t speak.
“Olivia. Who did this to you?”
“George.”
I crossed the room in three strides and took hold of her forearms, jerking her upright. “Who the fuck is George?” I asked and tightened my grip. She wore another of those silky blouses, the front hanging open a little now, providing a glimpse of a lacy bra underneath. “Who?”
“My uncle,” she snapped, and glared at me in the eyes. “Not another man, if you even give a fuck.”
I exhaled through my nose, clenching my jaw. “Olivia, I can’t allow anyone to make you cry.”
“Except for you, you mean,” she replied.
“Just tell me what happened.”
“I shouldn’t have come here. I don’t know what I was thinking. You won’t help me. You’re just interested in you. All you care about is owning things. That’s all. You don’t care—you don’t—”
I pressed a finger to her lips, and she stalled. “Calm down. Start from the beginning.”
“George and Nicki,” she said.
Another wave of anger. “The freeloaders.”
“Apparently,” she replied. “My uncle just told me he’s going to take Penny away from me. They want custody of her. They’re going to serve me papers sometime soon, and they’re saying it’s because I’m on my own. Because Penny doesn’t have two parental figures.”
“Fuck ‘em,” I said. “They can’t do that. Michael left you in charge of Penny’s care. No judge in the state will give her to them.”
“Really? How can you know that for sure? They’re also blood relatives of hers, even though they’re a little further down the line.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I can’t take this. I have to figure this out.”
I let go of her and backed up a couple steps, resting my back against the opposite wall, and loosened the top button of my shirt. “If they do want custody of Penny, they’ll have to prove you can’t adequately provide for her. But you can. You’ve got money. You’ve got the means.”
“They’re still going to drag all of us through this,” she said. “I can’t believe they’d do this to Penny. I—George mentioned something about money. He said that I’m using Michael’s money, but it’s not true. All of Michael’s money is in a trust for Penny.”
“Freeloaders,” I repeated and clenched my fists. That’d been their game all along. They wanted to hop on the money train. Well, they had no clue who or what they were dealing with.
I pushed off the wall. “I have a proposition,” I said.
“What?” She blinked at me, and those long lashes captivated me for a second. Did she have to be so distracting? I itched to kiss the sorrow from her lips and suck it from her soul, like poison out of a wound.
“People already think we’re an item,” I said. “I’m sure someone told you the news.”
“Yes.” The reply wasn’t strong, rather defeated. Just who had told her the news? And why was she so disappointed? Other women would throw themselves at my feet for the opportunity to be mine.
“So,” I said, “let’s take it further. Penny needs a functioning parental unit? Let’s give it to her. Let’s get fake engaged.”
“Jesus, what?”
“It’s Beck, actually,” I replied. “And I said we’re going to be fake engaged. It works for both of us. It will fool your dumbfuck uncle and aunt, make them realize that they’ve got no hope in hell of winning custody of Penny. After all, if their entire premise for doing this is based on some idea that you can’t handle it along, they’ll have no case to present to a judge.” I sniffed. “And I’ll add that they’d have no hope in hell, regardless.”
“They raised three kids.” O ran her fingers through her hair and tugged it loose out of its high ponytail. It dropped to her shoulders, past them, and I lost all focus for a full three seconds.
I regained it fast. “They don’t know what you’re capable of. And they sure as hell don’t know me.” I smirked, a half-smile. “This will scare them off.”
She considered it in silence, twirling a lock of hair around her finger, looking out the window as she did. I walked to the kitchen and grabbed us a bottle of water each. I unscrewed the lid of hers and handed it over.
“We’re doing this,” I said.
She flinched and spilled water down her shirt, then lifted it and flopped it back and forward. “What’s in it for you?” Olivia asked.
“It will make me look good,” I replied. Honest as fuck. I always had been in action and words. If I didn’t like you, you got the point. If I wanted you, you bent for me. Those were the rules.
I didn’t mince words. I didn’t take prisoners.
I drank some water then capped the bottle and placed it on the glass end table in my entrance hall. “My publicist says I need to improve my image. That I party too much. When she found out I’d visited you, she suggested I do this.”
“But Penny—”
“Penny will never know. We’ll call the proposal off after the fuckheads leave town. She won’t be old enough to remember, and the news will die down by the time she’s old enough to register what it meant. I’ll still be her uncle. It will be a blip in history.”