Page 61 of Perfect Composition

I sigh. “Young lady, we are not going to a bar with crappy food just so someone can try to pick you up to get you a beer. If you want a drink, have one here. I’m too tired to argue. Besides, your father has enough security personnel here to drive all of us in four separate directions in the event of an emergency. But, for the love of all things, pick out some decent food.” I walk in Beckett’s direction and then past him toward the covered lanai. He follows me out, and I shut the door.

Immediately, I become anxious until his gorgeous face splits into a smile. “You handle her beautifully. She was talking about Ralph’s on the plane.”

“I don’t know how she knew to come back to Texas,” I wonder.

He passes a hand absentmindedly over my hair, much the same way he did when we would sit in a field not so very far from here. “She just did, bird. She marched right into Carys’s office demanding help because you weren’t answering your phone.” His eyes narrow on mine. “Why weren’t you?”

“Between being at the hospital, then napping, then working on something… I meant to. But I hadn’t slept until after yesterday when…”

“When what?”

“When I knew it was safe. When I felt like someone I could trust had my back,” I confess.

“Christ, Paige. It was that bad?” A muscle ticks in his jaw.

I nod before whispering, “He called her an abomination. How could I ever have forgotten that, Beckett?”

And before my eyes, the boy I remember surges inside of the man I’ve only seen on television or in glossy magazines. “To you, for you, part of me will always be Beau.” He brushes a piece of hair away from my face.

“But that’s not who you are. Not really.”

“Paige…”

“Not anymore.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I understand what Austyn’s doing here, Beckett. Why are you?” I ask bluntly.

“Because we were worried.”

“I find that…”

“What?”

“Unusual. Odd. Absolutely surreal if you want to know the truth.”

“You find it odd I would care about what matters to our daughter so quickly?” He appears as if I’ve wounded him.

I shake my head. “No. Austyn is so dynamic, so warm, just so incredible, I have little doubt it took you the same amount of time to fall for her it took me.”

Certainly it’s curiosity that prompts him to ask, “And that was?”

“Her first heartbeat,” I respond instantly.

His lips curve slowly. I ignore the way my own heart trips the way it did all those years ago when that smile was mine alone before I saw it directed at how many women in the media. And had to ignore the ache it left in my gut afterward. “It looks good on you,” he concludes.

“What does?”

“The beauty and fierceness of motherhood.”

I toss my head back and laugh. “Oh, please, Beckett. There’s no need to tell me pretty little lies at this late date.”

“I wasn’t…” he protests. I just hold up my hand to stop what he was about to say. “What I said was nothing less than the truth,” he defends himself.

“Don’t,” I plead shakily.

He squares his shoulders. “What would you say if I told you my feelings never changed?” His fingers dance along the back of his tattooed hand nervously.