Page 20 of When I Should’ve Stayed (Red Bridge #2)

Clay

“I just want you to know that if this isn’t a true emergency, I’m going to kill you,” Bennett says as he walks through The Country Club’s door, immediately voicing his displeasure with the call I made to him before dawn this morning.

The front door falls closed behind him, and he steps inside with Summer in her stroller. The braces on her legs don’t distract from the cute outfit featuring a tutu she’s wearing or the brilliant smile on her adorable toddler face.

Her dad, though, is glaring at me. “You better start talking soon.”

Even now, with the sun barely up, I realize what an inconvenience my early morning wake-up call was for a single father with a two-year-old daughter, but I couldn’t help myself. I needed reinforcements, and I needed them now.

“Josie is moving in with me at the end of the month.” I get straight to the point. “And I want to propose to her before she does. I need you to go ring shopping with me today.”

“I’d say congratulations,” Bennett says, pushing the stroller toward me at the counter. “But it’s going to be hard to propose, walk down the aisle, and move in with Josie Ellis if you’re dead, and I’m still going to have to kill you, sooo…”

I chuckle. “Oh, come on, Ben. Love is an emergency. I can’t wait another day or another week or another month. I have to make her mine.”

“La-la-ka-la,” Summer sings from her seat, and Bennett finally breaks into a smile. It’s small, but it’s there, and I choose to believe it’s because his beautiful daughter just reminded him of the power of all-encompassing love. Celine Dion is probably singing in his head at this very moment.

“At least tell me why you got us all trussed up so early. None of the stores are even open right now.”

“Ah, yeah. That’s ’cause I don’t like any of the local stores’ inventories,” I explain with two hands bracing the bar.

“And since I don’t want anybody with a big mouth seeing me and spilling the beans before I actually get to propose to the woman of my dreams, I want to drive over to Burlington.

Plus, I want to take you to breakfast first, as a friendly gesture of compensation for spending the day helping me find the perfect ring. ”

Bennett frowns, back to his natural state. “Pretty sure I need to agree to go first.”

I look down at Summer, who is currently smiling at me with her big blue eyes. “Sum, would you like to eat? Are you hungry, sweet girl?”

Bennett groans, but my sweet little partner in crime grins up at me with a big, toothy smile.

“Sum-mer eat! Hungee!”

I look at her dad, my eyebrows doing all the talking for me as I raise them knowingly at him.

“Bacon, eggs, hash browns, toast, and pancakes,” he answers, his voice the definition of annoyed.

I smile. “Whatever you want.”

Summer clamors in her stroller seat, and Bennett walks around in front of her to get down on her level. “You sure you want to go to breakfast with Uncle Clay, Summblebee?”

“Clayyy!” she says excitedly, clapping her little hands, and my smile grows by a mile.

I point right at her. “That’s my girl.”

“Why don’t you stick to one woman at a time?” Ben teases with a smirk over his shoulder.

“There’s always room for a Summer in a relationship,” I hedge back. Summer laughs and smiles at me, and I make a funny face and wave.

“Come on,” I say, grabbing my keys off the counter and rounding the bar to go over to them. “I’ll drive.”

Bennett rolls his eyes. “You’d better since this is your mission anyway.”

We head outside and get Summer secured in the middle of the bench seat—compared to two years ago, it’s amazing how much better we are at taking care of her now—and then climb in our respective sides.

The town is still sleepy as we drive out of it, and I rest an arm around the back of the bench seat, the corners of my lips curving up.

It’s not long before we’re out of Red Bridge city limits, and Summer is sleeping softly between us.

Ben reaches out to fiddle with the radio, not stopping until he settles on a station that’s playing classical music.

It’s his go-to when it comes to painting in his studio and helping his little girl fall asleep.

“So, you’re really gone for this one, huh?” Bennett asks, stretching out in his seat too, but focusing the bulk of his body toward the window.

“Might as well be in space, bro. She’s the real deal. Everything is better when I’m with her. Hell, I don’t even feel a hint of the stink of our old life on me anymore.”

“Damn,” he comments, glancing over at me for a long moment. “Never thought I’d see the day that Clay Harris would actually want to get married. Or, fuck, find himself loving the idea of committing himself to one woman at all.”

“When you find the right woman, shit changes.” I shrug. “And who knows, maybe one day, I’ll be sitting in the passenger seat while you’re driving us to go ring shopping.”

“Good one.” He snorts. “I don’t think I’ll ever fuck with a woman again.”

“Oh, Ben. That’s not… You gotta fuck women,” I tease. “The alternative just doesn’t work for us.”

He rolls his eyes, but he chuckles too. “I didn’t say I’m not going to fuck them. I’m just not going to fuck with them.”

“In my experience, the two of them kind of go together.”

Bennett shrugs, unfazed. He’s been burned by so much and fallen down so many slippery slopes in his life, I imagine the thought of chancing any of that now that Summer is around is crippling.

She needs stability and someone who’s reliable.

Bennett is that man now, and I like to think I am too. But we didn’t used to be.

When you think of breaking generational cycles, wealthy families don’t necessarily come to mind. But bad people are everywhere, in every station of life. Our families—and Josie’s family, for that matter—are proof of that.

“You have any idea what kind of ring you’re looking for?” Ben asks, and my answer is instant.

“Something that reminds me of a water tower.”

“Excuse me?” He nearly chokes on his tongue, and I laugh.

“If anyone should understand that sometimes ideas are more metaphorical and abstract than black-and-white concrete, it’s you, Mr. Artiste .”

“I don’t paint anymore,” Ben admits, and it doesn’t take a genius to understand why. Being a single father to a special needs child is no easy feat, but I also think some of it stems from giving his family and the rich people within the art world a giant fuck-you.

Doesn’t matter, though. Ben’s an artist—a painter, to be exact—to his core.

I don’t know a lot about art, but I know he has more talent in the tips of his fingers than everyone I’ve ever met combined.

And a lot of his most famous paintings come in the form of abstract.

Hell, when he was, like, eighteen or nineteen, I’m pretty sure one of his abstract pieces sold for millions.

One day, I’m sure, he’ll be back to painting. It’s in his blood. It’s a part of his fucking soul. He can’t avoid that forever. But the day that I got him out of bed at the butt-crack of dawn isn’t the day I push that conversation on him.

“Just trust me,” I add, changing the topic back to the task at hand. “I’ll know the perfect ring when I see it.”

“Don’t get off at the first exit,” Ben suggests. “Go to the second. It’s easier.”

I know he and Summer come up here for her treatments and meetings with her team of doctors fairly often, so I do as he advises, taking the second exit into Burlington and rounding the bypass back to the Starsky Diner for breakfast. It’s a pretty neat place with a sparkling ceiling meant to mimic the stars, and I figure Summer will get a kick out of it, at least for a little while.

And every little bit helps while you’re trying to entertain a toddler with mobility limitations during a meal.

We make quick work of unloading her after I park, and Bennett straps her into her specialized stroller again to take her inside. We take a table in the corner, and the waitress gives Summer a kids menu and some crayons to color. She starts scribbling wildly, and I settle in to figure out my order.

Bennett surprises me by asking, “Do you think she’ll say yes?”

I laugh, shoving back in my seat and tossing my menu on the table. “I mean…I’m hoping. Though, I’m just chump enough to ask anyway, even if it might go bad.”

His eyes widen and his brows lift. “Why?”

“Because…” I pause and shrug. “I can’t imagine my life without her in it.

I can’t imagine going through anything—good or bad—and not going through it with her.

Because when I look at her, I know I don’t need to see anyone else.

I see the future. I see the best version of myself reflected in every smile she gives.

And I think I give those things to her, too. ”

He nods and goes back to looking at his menu, but his jaw works in a way that I know he’s not being dismissive. He’s overcome by the possibility of what I’m describing. He’s like a kid with Santa—he hasn’t seen it for himself, but he truly wants to believe.

“She’s been through some shit, Ben. A whole lotta shit, to be honest. But she’s still the most genuine, loving person I’ve ever known. I try to live by her example because, fuck knows, neither of our parents were good.”

He jerks his chin up, just once.

“If you ever find it, don’t let it go, you know?”

Bennett scoffs. “Doubtful.”

“Well, whatever. Just don’t count it out, is all I’m saying. And if you get it, keep it. I’m going to try like hell to.”

“All right, all right. Enough with this shit already,” Bennett says through a groan, dropping his menu to the table. “I forgive you for waking us up so fucking early, so you can stop laying it on so thick.”

“That’s the thing, Ben,” I admit with a laugh. “This isn’t thick at all. It isn’t even sticky like syrup. I’m so in fucking love, I could go on and on and on, and it would never be enough.”

He shuts his eyes and sighs. “Can you let me eat first? I can’t handle all this sappy shit on an empty stomach.”

I grin at him. “What can I say? I’m a man deranged.”

“All right, deranged man. Let’s eat, and then we’ll go get your ring that looks like a water tower.” He blows out a breath. “You truly are ridiculous. I hope you know that.”

“Oh, I know, dude. But I promise, if you knew the story…you’d be looking for a water tower ring too.”

There are not a lot of certainties in life, but right now, I’m certain. And Josie Ellis should get ready because I’m hell-bent on making her mine. Forever.