Page 84 of Perfect Composition

“That’s exactly my point, darlin’. You’re you. And all signs indicate that man’s crazy about you. Don’t be as careless with his heart as he was with yours. As much as I hate to admit it—”

“You’re taking his side? For the love of God, you punched him, E!” I exclaim, before darting a look around to make sure no one overheard us.

He shrugs as if that’s not important. I grit my teeth against male posturing when he continues. “I’m beginning to think he really left because he believed it was the only option. And as much as I still hate him for never coming back for you, it doesn’t mean he stopped loving you. It just makes him a stubborn idiot. Don’t be like Beckett.”

My hands find my hips. “Is this the right time to talk about this?”

“Didn’t seem like there was a better one with—hey, Beckett. Merry…” But he doesn’t get a chance to say much else as Beckett drags me away.

PAIGE

CHAPTER THIRTY

However you celebrate and whoever you celebrate with, may you find peace tonight.

— Beautiful Today

“Would you mind letting me go?” I rip my arm from Beckett’s hand as we reach the sanctuary of his room.

He slams the door once we cross the threshold and lets me go so abruptly, I almost trip on my heels. I reach out for the dresser for balance when I spy the open package in the center of the bed.

And the tissues around it.

Damn.

Beckett prowls toward me with what I see now are red-rimmed eyes. I try to understand his mood. “I didn’t mean to anger you.”

“I’m not angry. Far from it.” He stalks me.

“Then I didn’t mean to make you upset before the party.” I skirt around the chair and his bag. “You know the drawers are empty if you want to…”

I don’t get to finish my sentence before Beckett snags me around the waist and hauls me to him. He draws both of us toward the bed and flops backward on it until we’re lying right next to the gift I’d left in there earlier in the day.

Beckett doesn’t make me wait long before he tells me exactly what he thinks about it. “I’ve won awards for my music, made more money than I know what to do with. And there are few possessions I would die to protect. This became more important than any statue, any painting, any anything, Paige.” His fingers reach out to brush the album I so painstakingly put together about Austyn. His eyes well up with tears. “You gave me our daughter’s childhood.”

My own fill. Hoarsely, I whisper, “I’ve been working on it every night since I landed. It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t right he stole that from you, Be—”

He lays his fingers across my mouth. “You know what to call me.”

And with the emotion swirling around us, I don’t care what else has changed. Sure, in the last twenty years, his cologne is different. I’m sure my perfume is as well. But don’t I know the man holding me enough to trust him with my heart, my words? After all, we created a life between us. So, I brush his fingers aside and whisper, “Beau, he was wrong.”

His eyes close on an exhale so deep I can feel it waft over my hair. “And hearing my name from your lips means as much to me as the album you put together.”

“Why?”

His magnificent blue eyes pop open. And in the tears I see swimming in them, I hear the words of the song he sang to everyone just a few moments ago. “With you, it’s different. I’m not just—”

“Beckett.” I finish his sentence for him, understanding. My hand comes up to cup his cheek.

“Maybe if you don’t call me that, it won’t feel like you’re punishing me,” he admits.

I push up on an elbow. I frown. “But that’s who you are now. You left to become him. You should be proud of him.”

And then the man I’ve always loved breaks my heart for the second time in our lives. “How can I be proud of that man after what he did to you? He made you promises he didn’t keep. No wonder you barely tolerate him.” Tears run unchecked from his eyes when he whispers, “He’s no better than your father.”

“No. Beau Beckett Miller, you just stop and listen to me.” I scramble to my knees and tug him to a sitting position.

He begins to babble. “There’s no tangible proof I can give you, Paigey, but I swear I’m not as bad as the press says. I didn’t do drugs like they claimed I did. That’s a fucking out-and-out lie. Hell, I don’t even drink that much because of the shit with my parents. But of course, I can’t say dick about that because then they’d be swarming down here hitting up everyone who lived here for a damn story.”