Page 38 of Perfect Composition

“I don’t know how she did it. But Paige Kensington has always been my protector, my sword, and my shield.”

“Austyn.” The tears come up on me swiftly.

“No. Just listen. It took me being alone banging on a piano to realize you gave me my music—not him. You could have been like so many others would have and taken away something that reminded you of the person who walked away, but you didn’t.”

“I couldn’t.” My arms lift helplessly.

“Because you love me.”

“Because when you love someone as much as I love you, it’s impossible not to give them your whole heart. You’d live for them; you’d die for them. There’s nothing you wouldn’t do to make things perfect for them. And for you, that’s music.”

Austyn rushes forward and wraps her arms around me. “I’m so sorry, Mama. So, so sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” I whisper as I stroke her hair.

We stand for long moments communicating with broken sobs, the clenching and release of arms, and the synchronization of our hearts. It’s a beautiful melody only the two of us can fully understand.

After long moments, my daughter lifts her head and wipes her eyes before asking, “Will you answer something for me?”

“I’ll try.”

“Are you still in love with him?”

I give my daughter the truth I’ve shared with no one aloud and rarely myself in the darkest of nights. “Oh, only every part of me that loves you.”

Austyn winces. “Mama, that sucks in the worst way.”

“Tell me about it, baby. I’ve lived with it since before you were born.”

Her lips tremble. “And do you think things would have been different if he came back?”

My hands raise before dropping helplessly at my sides. “Austyn, if I did, our lives might have been very different, or they might have turned out just the same. I have no way of knowing. What I do know is I didn’t want you broadsided every day of your life with the same feelings I’ve had—swept away wondering about what-ifs and shoulda, coulda, wouldas.”

Austyn lets me go to walk around the room restlessly. “I’m sorry, Mama.”

“Stop, Austyn. We can’t change the past.”

Her eyes—his eyes—are damp when they meet mine. “For you, I wish I could.”

“I know.” And for one moment, I let down the walls I’ve held up for so long. Then, I snap them up tighter than before, bringing us back on track. “But Austyn, this doesn’t address the issue of why I told you sooner rather than later.”

Her brow puckers in concentration. “No, it doesn’t. It had to do with that letter from the attorney.”

I step on top of the papers I threw around the room—and God, if it doesn’t feel good to step all over Beckett—to snatch up my cell phone. “Sweetheart, they represent your father.”

“What? I don’t understand.”

“I think we need to do some research into this firm beforewemeet with them when I’m up for the holidays. Because a Kensington would never go into a meeting where they’re signing any sort of binding legal documents—”

“—without Gramps investigating the hell out of them,” Austyn concludes. Her smile might be her father’s, but the intent behind it is pure Kensington.

And so I lean forward and give her a big smooch right on her lips. “Exactly.”

BECKETT

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Jack Daniels or Cristal? Rumors of a party at Beckett Miller’s are surfacing, but the details are unclear. All I know is I wish I was invited regardless of what was served.