Page 28 of Perfect Composition

I whistle as I pass Security and head into the elevator. When I enter the office, Angie’s not at her desk. Shrugging, because I’m expected and I’ve done this a million times before, I fling open the heavy wood door to the inner sanctum. Muted voices are heard from the direction of the conference room. It isn’t until I get close that I hear Angie say to Ward, “Thank you. That was sweet.”

I laugh as I saunter in. “Ward? Sweet? Jesus, did Houde pump some kind of herbal essence into the air last night?” Then I get a good look at the deep bruising beneath Angie’s eyes, and my voice hardens. I knew this was going to be too much for her with her background. “Screw it. I don’t care if the damn paps make up secrets to sell about me. Someone better tell me why Angie looks like she didn’t sleep a wink.”

Ward jumps in. “We had a bit of an altercation last night.”

“I hope you punched the fucker who got in her face.”

“Kind of hard to do that to myself,” Ward says sheepishly.

I’ve been looking for an excuse to expend some of the frustration over this situation. I back my arm to throw a punch. “Then allow me.”

But just as my arm is about to swing forward, I feel like I’ve pissed on myself. I yelp and jump backward. I glance down, and the front of my white silk shirt and trousers are wet with Angie’s coffee. She yells at me. “Stop it, Beckett! It’sfine! I handled it. Okay?”

Her fingers poke me in the chest, stunning me. We’ve been friends for years, but it isn’t until recently she’s been comfortable with any type of physical affection—hell, any kind of touch for that matter. She jabs a finger directly in my heart. “And just to let you know, you havemuchbigger issues to be worrying about.”

The tension that had been stripped snaps my spine straight. “Why?” What did she find out last night? Is Kensington my daughter? My heart trips in my chest faster than any drumbeat Carly’s ever managed to rip out on a set during her solos.

Angie doesn’t pull her punches when she says, “I could be looking at her right now.”

Somehow through the murky tension that fills the room at her declaration, I manage, “You spoke with Kensington, then?”

“No.” There’s a slight pause where I try to grapple with the ramifications of what she’s saying. “But I met her mother.”

“Paige? You talked to Paige?” This might possibly be worse. The familiar feelings of longing rise up inside of me. I quickly tamp them down to focus on the conversation.

Angie confirms, “She’s lovely.” Her eyes are trying to communicate something more to me, but I’m not getting it. I’m still struggling with the fact it was Paige at Redemption. With her daughter. I don’t know what to think, what to feel.

Carys and Ward are involved in a small squabble to the side. I don’t tune in until Carys asks gently, “Did you get the NDA?”

Angie shakes her head.

“What happened?” I manage a tortured whisper. Then, realizing I sound like a selfish bastard, I cut her off before she can speak. “No, don’t say anything else. Thank you, Angie. I realize it must have been terrifying for you. You have no idea how much I appreciate it.”

Chest heaving, lips trembling, Angie whispers, “It wasn’t. It was incredible. Exhilarating. Everything I thought it would be, until—”

“Until it wasn’t?” I shoot a dirty look at Ward, who doesn’t say anything to me but has a lot to say to Angie.

But as the story starts to unfold, I realize Angie’s words hold true for something else.

My life.

Because I’m now more certain than ever that when I left Texas to escape my abusive family, I left my then seventeen-year-old girlfriend pregnant. And it appears she raised our baby to become a remarkably talented young woman.

“Her name, by the way, is Austyn. That’s not available on her website.”

A brief flicker of a smile crosses my face. “She followed family tradition, then.” At the confusion around the room, I explain, “Paige’s family has a long-standing tradition. It’s complicated, but whenever a firstborn female child is born, they’re named after the city they were born in. Paige told me she was born in Paige, Texas—about forty or so miles from Austin. Her mother was visiting her maternal grandparents. There were…complications. Paige lived; her mother didn’t.”

“Oh, God. That poor family.” Carys reaches for David’s hand.

“I guess Austyn was born in an Austin hospital,” I conclude.

“Well, Dr. Paige Kensington,” Angie begins, but I jump all over that.

“Wait, Paige is a doctor? What kind?”

“An audiologist.”

I jerk back, stunned Angie has the answer. “What the hell? Did you two bond in the restroom or something?”