How to Rescue a Family

by Teri Wilson

  Amanda deflated a little. She wasn’t sure until just then she’d been hoping Paul would somehow convince her that she was wrong about her mom and dad—that they’d get behind her dream. “That’s what I thought. Great. I suppose this entire experiment has been a colossal waste of time.”

  He shook his head. “Why would you say that? You’d be an amazing caterer. The dishes you’ve come up with are unique and familiar at the same time. That seems like a perfect hit for the wedding and gala crowd to me.”

  “But Mom and Dad will never agree. You said so yourself.”

  He shrugged. “They won’t want it to be part of the Grille, but why does it have to be? Do it on your own. It’s your baby.”

  Right. Like she could start a new business on the side while she ran the Grille six days a week.

  She cast a wistful glance at her Instagram profile page. She was up to almost nine thousand followers. Not exactly food goddess Chrissy Teigen-level numbers, but not bad either. Paul resumed his spot at the fry station and Amanda polished off a few more of the crostinis until Belle swished through the door with an uncharacteristically serious look on her face.

  “What is it?” Amanda’s hand paused midway to her mouth. A lone green bean fell onto the counter.

  Note to self: don’t pile the appetizers quite so high...when and if I ever get to serve them to anyone.

  “You need to come up front.” Belle sighed. “Ryan is here.”

  “Oh.” She set down the crostini and stared at it so she wouldn’t have to meet Belle’s gaze.

  Amanda had been doing her best to give Ryan space since the Brewsters had shown up unannounced. She figured it was the right thing to do. But the barbecue fundraiser had been four days ago, and she had no idea whether the older couple was still in town or if they’d gone back to Washington. And if she was really being honest with herself, she was hurt that she hadn’t heard from Ryan at all. She knew he’d probably been overwhelmed, but after all, he’d been the one to ask her for moral support when his in-laws came to visit. That had been his idea, not hers.

  Was it so crazy that she’d expected an invitation of some sort? To lunch, dinner...anything?

  Her phone had been conspicuously silent, so she’d spent the past few days trying to stay as busy as possible so she wouldn’t have time to dwell on whatever mixed-up feelings she had for Ryan and his adorable household.

  She’d missed him, though. Dillon and Tucker too.

  “Did he ask for me?” she said, hating the telltale tremor in her voice.

  “No, not exactly.” Belle let out a long breath. “But he looks like a wreck. Something is wrong. I think you should go out there.”

  Paul glanced up, but said nothing. Having another guy around the Grille was nice, since Paul never commented on her nonexistent love life. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder if he was reporting everything back to her sister, who would in turn fill their parents in on everything. Oh well, having a family spy in her midst was a small price to pay for finally having some help. Even if the help was only temporary.

  “Fine. I’ll do it.” Amanda removed her apron and smoothed down her Grille T-shirt.

  On the way out the door, she grabbed the plate of leftover crostini. Maybe she and Ryan needed a shield of food between them since every time they were around one another, they couldn’t seem to keep their hands to themselves. And thus far, those incidents had only led to trouble.

  “Hi,” she said with false cheer, sliding across from Ryan in the booth where she found him sitting in the far corner of the restaurant. She’d been aiming for carefree, but the sudden knot in her stomach made that pretty much impossible.

  “Hi.” His mouth twitched into a weak attempt of a grin.

  Belle was right. He looked horrible. His jaw was covered in several days’ worth of stubble and his eyes were red-rimmed, as if he hadn’t slept in a week.

  “Are you okay?” She swallowed. “Has something happened to Dillon?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “Not yet, anyway.”

  Amanda stared at the plate of appetizers on the table between them, doing her best to calm her frantic pulse. “You’re scaring me.”

  “Sorry.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I didn’t want to say anything. I don’t want you to worry. I’m meeting Dan Sutton to go over some things, and he asked if we could meet here. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  “Oh,” she said quietly.

  So Ryan definitely hadn’t come to the Grille to see her. He was only there because Dan had suggested it.

  She didn’t want to be upset. Clearly Ryan was dealing with something major, but at the same she couldn’t help feeling a tiny bit wounded that he’d chosen to confide in Dan instead of her. He barely knew Dan Sutton.

  “Sorry, I thought...” Her face burned with humiliation. “Never mind. I’ve got plenty to keep me busy in the kitchen. Have a nice lunch.”

  She moved to scoot out of the booth, but Ryan caught her hand. “Wait.”

  “It’s okay. Really.” The door to the diner chimed as a new customer entered the building. “Dan’s here. I’ll let you two chat.”

  Ryan’s gaze shifted toward Dan and then back to her. “He’s not here as my friend. He’s here as my lawyer.”

  Amanda froze and blinked up at him, afraid to ask him to elaborate. Somehow she knew he hadn’t reached out to Dan for help with estate planning or handling a traffic ticket.

  “Maggie’s parents are suing me for custody of Dillon.”

  * * *

  Ryan hadn’t meant to blurt out the news like that. He really hadn’t.

  He’d decided not to tell Amanda about the lawsuit at all—not because he wanted to keep it a secret from her, but because he feared she might blame herself, at least partially, for setting the Brewsters off. The trouble was that he couldn’t look her in the eye and lie to her, so he’d kept his distance.

  And he’d never been so miserable in his life.

  He missed seeing her every day. He missed her smile. He missed tasting her...touching her. His life felt empty without her in it. God help him if he ended up losing Dillon too. He’d never survive it.

  “No.” She shook her head. Every drop of color drained from her beautiful face. “How could they do this? Why? On what grounds?”

  “It’s all about me. They say I’m a bad influence. A neglectful parent.”

  She looked at him with such sympathy in her amber eyes that he had to turn away lest he break down.

  Her hand came to rest on his forearm. “Ryan, you know that’s not true, right?”

  He didn’t, and that was the worst part about the entire ordeal.

  Maggie’s death had been a wake-up call. In the dark days following her accident, Ryan had watched his son retreat into a shell of silence, knowing all the while that it was his fault. If he’d taken the time to develop any kind of relationship with Dillon before Maggie died, he’d have been able to comfort him. But he hadn’t. He’d been too caught up with his job to give his boy the love and attention he needed. That he deserved.

  Had he been a bad influence? Hell yes, he had.

  But he wasn’t anymore. Dillon was his entire world now, but that didn’t matter. It was too little too late—at least according to Finch and Annabelle.

  “Ryan, good to see you.” Dan stood beside the booth, wearing a conservative suit and holding a briefcase. It was a sharp contrast to the casual attire he’d been wearing on Saturday at the barbecue.

  The lawyerly clothes were a comfort to Ryan, though, for the way they made the other man look professional and capable. Maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to help. “Dan.”

  “Sorry. I’ll give you two some privacy.” Amanda slipped out of the booth, tugging her hand free.

  Ryan hadn’t even realized he’d still been holding on to it.

  He wished he
could ask her to stay. God, how he wished. But he had no right to ask her for such a thing. She wasn’t his wife. She wasn’t even his girlfriend.

  “How are you holding up?” Dan asked, taking Amanda’s place across from him.

  “Not well.”

  “I can see that. You look like hell.” Dan gave him a reassuring smile. “Try not to panic, okay? I’m here to help.”

  “I can’t make any promises. Panic is my default state at the moment.”

  “I get it.” Dan paused, nodding politely at Amanda as she slid two glasses of water in front of them. After she’d gone, he continued. “But I want you to remember one very important thing—grandparents have no legal right to see their grandchildren, much less a legal right to custody.”

  Ryan remembered hearing something to this effect when he’d been working on a legal story for the Post in his early days as a reporter. “Then how is this happening?”

  Dan shrugged. “They can file all the paperwork they want, but it doesn’t mean they’ll get anywhere once the case is in front of a judge.”

  “I guess I still don’t understand why an attorney would even take their case if they have no legal grounds for custody.”

  “That’s a good question. Their lawyer’s strategy is obviously to put you in a very poor light. If they can show the court you’re unfit to be Dillon’s father, it might pave the way for you to lose custody. If that happens, the judge could choose to grant them temporary custody of Dillon instead of turning him over to foster care.”

  “Foster care?”

  What the hell?

  Any relief that Dan’s encouraging words had prompted in Ryan vanished immediately. The thought of losing Dillon to the Brewsters was bad enough. He couldn’t even conceive of turning his son over to strangers.

  “That can’t happen,” he ground out. “It absolutely cannot.”

  “It won’t. I’m prepared to fight this,” Dan said firmly.

  Ryan nodded and took a gulp from his water glass. Amanda glanced at him from across the room and headed back toward the table, pitcher in hand.

  “Look, all we need to do is show that you’re a competent, caring father.” Dan gave him a meaningful look. “Which you are. This won’t be a problem. We’ll get letters from Dillon’s teacher stating you’re actively involved in his education. A few statements from town leaders or business owners testifying that you’re an upstanding member of the Spring Forest community wouldn’t hurt either. Is there anyone in particular that you’d say is familiar with your parenting style? A friend or family member who can give a detailed account of your good relationship with your son?”

  “There might be someone.” Ryan’s gaze shifted to Amanda, who’d just approached the table to refill his glass.

  Once it was full, she straightened with the pitcher and looked back and forth between them. “Would you like anything else? Coffee? Lunch? I told Belle I’d be your server so you could discuss...business...without worrying about interruptions.”

  “Thank you,” Ryan said.

  Dan’s gaze cut to Amanda and then back at him. “She knows about the lawsuit?”

  Ryan nodded. “Amanda’s a good friend.”

  He ground his teeth together as he remembered he’d used those exact words to describe her to Maggie’s parents. It hadn’t been a lie, but it hadn’t necessarily been the truth either. Not the whole truth.

  Amanda was more than a friend. He just wasn’t precisely sure how much more.

  Dan’s face lit up. “Wait. Are you two dating?”

  Amanda blurted out an answer quicker than Ryan could form a response. “No.”

  Ryan cleared his throat. “I was going to say not yet.”

  Her lips curved into a shy smile.

  Dan’s brow furrowed. “It sounds like you two have some things to work out. In any case, too bad. A steady girlfriend—or better yet, a fiancée—would go a long way in showing the judge that you’re committed to the relationships in your life. Plus judges always prefer it when a child has a maternal figure living in the house, or at least spending a lot of time there.”

  “Really?” Amanda’s knuckles went white as she continued gripping the water pitcher. “It makes that much of a difference?”

  Dan shrugged. “It oftentimes does. You’d be surprised.”

  Amanda fixed Ryan with a pointed stare. She was looking at him the same way she looked at Tucker when she gave the dog a command and expected him to obey.

  Ryan narrowed his gaze. “Whatever you’re thinking, the answer is no. You’ve already done more for Dillon and me than I can possibly repay you for.”

  “That’s what friends are for.” She smiled sweetly at him. Too sweetly. Then she turned her attention back to Dan. “So what you’re saying is that if Ryan and I were engaged, this whole custody suit might get dismissed more quickly than if he was just a regular single dad.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  “Again, we’re not engaged.” He’d never even taken her on a real date. Not once. Though he definitely intended to once Dillon’s custody was settled.

  But he couldn’t think about that now. He was in complete and total survival mode at the moment. Ryan had always been good at compartmentalizing, but even in his current state of desperation, somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew better than to let Amanda get more involved with the lawsuit than she needed to be. What they had was special, and he didn’t want to ruin it before it even began.

  “But we could be engaged.” She jammed a hand on her hip, and Ryan knew he was in trouble. “Not for real, I mean. Just temporarily...for the lawsuit.”

  Dan blew out a breath. “I’m going to stop you right there. You can’t lie under oath. You’re either engaged or you’re not.”

  “Okay, then.” Amanda plunked the pitcher down on the table with a determined thud. “Ryan, will you marry me?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Ryan lifted the final corner of his sofa cushion, pulled a fitted sheet over it and then eyed Amanda as he smoothed down the covers. “Are you absolutely sure about this?”

  “Believe it or not, I’ve slept on a sofa before. I know how it’s done.” She glanced at him before quickly averting her gaze, a new habit she’d seemed to develop after she’d spontaneously proposed to him at the Grille. Ryan didn’t think she’d looked him properly in the eyes a single time since she’d arrived earlier this evening with an overnight bag slung over her shoulder.

  “You know that’s not what I meant.” He kept his tone gentle, as if he were speaking to a spooked animal. “And besides, you’re not crashing on the sofa. I am.”

  She blinked in the general direction of his forehead. “I’m not going to toss you out of your bed. I’ll be fine out here.”

  “Please.” Ryan rolled his eyes. “What kind of gentleman would I be if I let my future wife sleep on the couch?”

  “Fake future wife,” she corrected. “It’s all for show, remember? We’re not actually going through with it. We just need to keep that little secret to ourselves so Dan’s conscience is clear. He doesn’t want either of us perjuring ourselves.”

  “But you’re fine with it?” Ryan took a step closer—so close that she didn’t have any choice but to look at him. Really look. “You’re not going to have any problem lying to the judge?”

  She lifted her chin. “None whatsoever. Not if it means Dillon gets to stay with you.”

  He sighed.

  He didn’t believe her for a minute. She was a terrible liar—and she wouldn’t spontaneously get better at it just because she was lying for a noble cause.

  Amanda was only trying to help. Of course he knew that. But he didn’t feel right pretending they were planning on getting married. Given the delicate state of their budding relationship, it seemed like a really, really bad idea.

  Did they even have a
relationship anymore? Or was this fake engagement the nail in the coffin of romantic involvement? What would happen if he kissed her, right here, right now?

  He let out a slow, labored breath. Kissing was definitely off the table. It was going to be torturous enough knowing she was sleeping in his bed with her head on his pillow and her long, graceful legs tangled in his bedsheets while he was parked out here on the sofa—alone. If he let himself kiss her, he’d never survive it.

  “Besides...” She brushed past him, toward her overnight bag, propped next to Dillon’s school backpack on a nearby chair, as if it belonged there. As if she belonged in his house, in his life, in his bed. “Dan said we might not even have to appear in court. He’s hoping the suit will never get that far, remember?”

  Ryan scrubbed a hand over his face. He remembered, all right. He’d been hyperfocused on every word his lawyer had uttered after Amanda asked him to marry her. It had been the only way he could sit there without obsessing on whatever was going on in her head. He’d just had to push the fact that she’d be going home with him right out of his mind and concentrate on Dan’s plan of action.

  “I need to ask you something.” He looked at her long and hard. A cavernous ache formed deep in his chest when her eyes glittered in response to his stare. “Why are you doing this for me? Tell me the truth.”

  She could have said any number of things, all of them honorable. All of them kind. But there was only one answer that would render him incapable of turning her down—a few simple words that might bring him to his knees.

  “Because you’re a good father.”

  And there it was.

  He nodded, throat too clogged with emotion to speak.

  “Good night, Ryan.” She took a few bashful steps toward him, then rested her fingertips gently on his shoulder, rose up on tiptoe and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek.

  He stood as still as possible. He didn’t trust himself to move a muscle. All it would take was a slight move of his head to the right and he could capture her mouth with his. But if his lips touched hers tonight, it wouldn’t end there. Not when he felt as raw and vulnerable as he did just then.