ARROGANT PLAYBOY (21 page)

BECKHAM

I’m not sure what we are.

All I know is my cock and
Odessa’s pussy are addicted to each other and have been for the last month,
ever since she marched into my office and refused to leave the day I met up
with Sophie.

She doesn’t ask for labels. We
don’t hold hands or talk about the future. I don’t make promises and she
doesn’t expect them.

I’ve never been so content with
an arrangement before, but I’d be lying if the thought of her meeting another
asshole and running off with him didn’t cause my heart to drop into my stomach.

Odessa reminds me not to think
about the things I can’t control.

She’s right.

Shit. She’s right about almost
everything.

It’s the sexiest, most
infuriating feature about that woman.

My attempt to take her advice
to heart is the reason I’m hunched over my sink on this Saturday morning in
May, staring at an envelope from the Accusure DNA Corporation.

The truth is in there.

Separated by a thick white
envelope is the answer to my future, to Sadie’s future.

I want her to be mine more than
I ever thought I would.

I never wanted to be a father,
but I want to be Sadie’s father.

The thing came weeks ago. I’ve
done nothing but stare at it, hoping one of these days I can summon the
strength to see what’s inside.

Odessa barges in the bathroom,
rifling through my drawers for her strawberry red toothbrush. The one she
constantly accuses me of hiding and the one I constantly accuse her of
misplacing.

“What’s that?” She stops
yanking on drawers when she spots the white envelope. “You didn’t tell me that
came in the mail. Oh, my God. Are you going to open it?”

She sweeps her dark, fiery hair
from her face and ties it on top of her head, leaning against the vanity.

“Don’t know.” I swipe the
envelope and trace my finger along the seam.

“What do you mean, you don’t
know?” Her green eyes flash wild. “I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t you want to
know?”

“Got a call from Dr. Brentwood
yesterday.” I stare ahead at my tired expression. I swear to God I’ve aged ten
years in the last two months.

She folds her arms, studying
me, waiting in patient silence.

“Apparently Eva has been out of
the hospital for a couple weeks now. She made some indication during treatment
that she wishes to relinquish her parental rights to Sadie.”

Odessa pops up, her hands
covering her smiling lips. “That’s a good thing, right?”

My mouth hardens. “She told Dr.
Brentwood that she was fired from the fertility clinic for tampering with
medical records.”

“So what does that mean then?
Sadie has to be yours.”

“The timeline doesn’t add up.”
I fight the choking sensation in my throat as heat creeps up to my ears. “The
pregnancy, the due date. Sadie had to have been conceived after she was fired.”

She closes the space between
us, her hand resting on my tensed forearm. Odessa hesitates for a moment before
pressing her cheek against my arm. She’s a fool for thinking she can comfort
me.

“If Eva doesn’t want Sadie.” Constriction
in my chest makes it hard to breathe. “And she’s not mine biologically…”

“Don’t say it.” Odessa pulls
away, dragging her fingers over my lips.

I have to say it. This is
reality. This is real life. Running from the hard truth isn’t an option.

“I don’t know if the court will
let me adopt her. I’m just some random asshole Sadie’s mother once fucked.”

“You’re so much more than that,
Beck. You’re Sadie’s father. Biologically or not. You’re the only father she’s
known. The only person who came to her rescue when she needed someone the
most.”

“You make it sound poetic,” I
huff.

“It’s a beautiful thing, the
bond you two have.”

I shake my head. “How the hell
am I going to prove to a family court judge that a two month old is bonded to
me? It’s not like she can walk in there and ramble on about our late night
feedings.”

Her lips twist into a
bittersweet smile. I hope to God she doesn’t cry. Her strength is what keeps me
upright most days.

“What if they say she’d be
better off with a mom and a dad?” Every worst possible outcome floods my mind
all at once.

Odessa’s gaze falls to the
floor and then back at me. “I know I’m not her mother, but I’d be honored to be
that mother figure in her life. You know, if you’re so convinced the judge is
going to go that route. You have me.
She
has me.”

“That’s a big commitment.”

“I know.”

“You’d do that for her?”

She exhales, her hand lifting
to her chest. “Of course, Beck.”

ODESSA

I’m in love.

It came softly and
unexpectedly, but I couldn’t escape it if I tried. This is the kind of love
that lasts a lifetime; the kind that defines you and brings out the deepest
parts of your heart you never knew were there.

I’m not her mother, but I love
her the same.

Leaning over Sadie’s stroller,
I melt when I catch a hint of a baby smile. She turned two months last week.
Beckham acted like he didn’t want to make a fuss about it, but I made him take
a couple dozen pictures with her anyway. He doesn’t say it, but he’s still
afraid to get too attached.

We both know it’s far too late
for that.

I rake a pink pacifier across
her rose-hued lips until she latches on, and I lift a muslin blanket up to her
belly before pushing on. The Saturday morning June air is just beginning to
warm. Dane and Bellamy are in the city visiting Beckham, so I offered to take
Sadie for a stroll around Central Park so the three of them could have a nice
brunch at a restaurant that doesn’t have high chairs and complimentary wet
naps.

The stroll is leisurely, the
fresh air cleansing. We needed this. May was much too rainy, and Sadie was
cooped up far too long.

Joggers pass us, and families,
and little old ladies walking dogs. Sadie stirs, her arms fidgeting as she
spits out her paci. She needs a break from the stroll. Ahead I spot an empty
park bench, pushing her toward it and stepping on the lock before lifting her
into my arms.

She glances around, her dark
eyes wide. I’m not sure how much she can see, but Sadie appears to be taking in
as much as she can.

“Much different than your
nursery, huh?” I kiss her cheek, breathing in her powdery lavender scent.

“Your daughter is beautiful.”
An older woman in head to toe neon green Nike powerwalks past me with a wide
grin, her eyes moving from Sadie to me and back.

“Thank you.” I nod.

She feels like mine, even if
she’s not.

Cradling her in my arms, I
study her face. I can’t decide if she looks like Beck or not. Sometimes I see
it in her expressions. He still won’t open the envelope, and it’s not my place
to push him.

Another temporary custody
hearing is tomorrow, sparked by the fact that Eva signed away her parental
rights. Beckham’s been a moody mess since last week, each day worse than the
one before.

Losing Sadie would destroy him.
I refuse to believe it’s going to happen.

Sadie smiles up at me, wrapping
her fingers around my pinky. I make faces and tickle her beneath her chin until
her legs get to kicking. She’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.

After playing for a bit, her
tongue begins to click against her lips. She’s hungry. Pulling her diaper bag
from beneath her stroller, I mix up a bottle, lean back on the bench, and feed
her.

Sadie watches me intently, her
belly filling by the second, and I squeeze in a bit of people watching. A
twenty-something couple amble past, fingers intertwined, and my heart squeezes.

I lift the baby over my
shoulder to burp, and circle my palms over her back, inhaling her once again.
The judge is going to let her stay with Beckham no matter what. I know it in my
heart of hearts. There’s no one else better suited to be her father. My eyes
burn for a moment, but I push those doubts and fears away. I’ve been so
preoccupied with keeping Beckham calm lately that I haven’t thought much about
how it would make me feel to lose her.

Squeezing her a little tighter,
I lower her into my arm again and place the bottle against her mouth.

A little boy blazes by on a
bike, his mom chasing after him, calling for him to slow down. Watching to see
if she ever catches up with him, I spot two familiar faces up ahead.

My heart lurches into my
throat, and for a moment the wind is knocked out of me.

The couple grows closer, and I
call them a couple because they’re unmistakably holding hands.

Each second passes in slow
motion, bringing them closer. They don’t see me. Not yet. But they will.

Sucking in a deep breath, I
stand up, Sadie in my arms, and in my best cordial tone say, “Hey, you two.”

Jeremiah and Carly’s younger
sister, Carissa, freeze, spotting me at exactly the same moment. Their hands
drop and their faces turn pale.

I strut across the wide asphalt
path toward them, my heart breaking yet satisfied by the way Jeremiah squirms
under my stare.

“What’s this?” My eyes dance
between theirs.

Carissa turns to Jeremiah but
he looks my way.

“How long?” My jaw sets harder
than the knot in my stomach.

This explains Carly’s strange
behavior last time we hung out. I thought it was odd how distant she’d been
lately, but I chalked it up to the fact that I was busy dealing with Beckham
and my new job. I thought maybe we were falling out of touch.

I suppose she felt caught
between her loyalty to Jeremiah and her loyalty to me.

This was the last thing I ever
expected.

“It wasn’t planned,” Jeremiah
drawls. His tone is smooth and unwavering but the shift in his eyes tells me
he’s nervous as hell. “Carissa’s been interning at the studio. We spent some late
nights together. It just sort of evolved, Sam.”

I fight a bittersweet smile,
staring at the young woman who likely ignited the doubt in the mind of my
former fiancé. Carissa offered an excitement I could never give him.

She was the catalyst.

“We never wanted to hurt you.” Carissa
bites her lip. I’ve been best friends with Carly since college, but I’d only
been around Carissa a handful of times since she attended culinary school in
California. “If it makes you feel any better, Carly won’t speak to me.”

I swallow the lump in my
throat, stuck between wanting to smack him and thank my lucky stars. I now know
that marrying him would’ve been the biggest mistake of my life.

“When did things…
evolve
…exactly?” I ask, not that it
matters at this point, but I doubt I’ll get another chance to ask.

 
“O-oh, um,” Jeremiah stammers. His
reaction confirms my assumptions. “I mean, we hung out a lot, but we didn’t
really do anything until after you said you absolutely didn’t want to marry
me.”

Carissa smacks him across the
chest. “You make it sound like I’m some kind of consolation prize.”

His blue gaze darts between us.
There’s nothing he can say that’s going to please us both.

“You’re not a consolation
prize, Carissa. Damn it. We’ve had this talk.” His lips purse, his nostrils
flaring as his hands fly to his hips. Jeremiah glances at me one more time, his
eyes softening. “Are you happy now, Sam?”

His question is gentle, his
expression genuine.

“I just need to know if you’re
happy,” he says again.

My hold on Sadie tightens, and
I look down to catch the last of her chocolate eyes before she nods off in my
arms.

There’s so much more love in my
life than I ever expected. My love for Sadie fills my heart so full sometimes,
I’m worried it’ll burst. And Beckham. He’s my prickly cactus. The more he
refuses to believe he’s deserving of love, the more I want to love him.

I
want
to love him.

I do.

I see things in him I’ve never
seen in anyone before. He’s strong and gentle, protective and loyal.
Unapologetic and stubborn.

I could easily love that man,
and it could easily be the hardest, most rewarding risk I’ve ever taken.
Sometimes I wonder if I’m already starting to fall for him. We’re together
almost every day. He’s my label-free version of comfort and excitement.

Thinking about it is dangerous
though. The thought of admitting to myself that I’m falling in love with a man
who doesn’t want to be loved makes me sick to my stomach.

“Yeah,” I say. “I’m happy.”

“Good.” Jeremiah takes me in
like it’s the last time and gives a tight nod. “Glad to hear that, Sam.”

“See you around,” I say.

Reaching for Carissa’s hand,
they walk away. There’s a lightness in my chest. I can breathe now.

“What do you say we head back?”
I whisper to the sleeping babe in my arms.
 

***

“Hello, hello?” I push the
stroller off the elevator and into Beckham’s foyer. He’s sitting in his
favorite wingback chair in the living room. “Surveying your kingdom again?”

He turns, his face lighting
when he sees us. Rising, he comes our way and scoops Sadie in his arms.

“Dane and Bellamy go back?” I
ask.

“Yeah. They headed to the hotel
to pack. Their flight leaves in a few hours.”

“Bellamy’s a sweet girl. I like
her.”

Beckham’s head cocks. “Not sure
what she’s doing with a guy like my brother, but who am I to judge?”

I bump his shoulder with my
fist. “Dane is a good guy. He deserves a good girl.”

“You give him too much credit.”
His brows jump. “You give everyone too much credit.”

Watching Beckham cradle the
baby and swing her side to side has quickly become one of my favorite things to
do. Dizziness rains over me as my heart hammers at the thought of Sadie not
being here a day from now.

I’m torn between wanting to
spend this final, lazy Sunday with Beckham and Sadie and wanting to give them
their own final day together…

Just in case…

“I should get going.” I tighten
my purse strap over my shoulder.

He whips his attention my way,
face scrunching. “Why?”

“Laundry,” I blurt. “It’s
laundry day.”

I cringe, hoping he won’t see
through me.

“You should stick around,” he
says.

“Yeah?”

“Why are you being so weird?”
His full lips curl up, his head angled. “Hang on.”

He sweeps Sadie off, taking her
back to her crib and returning a minute later.

“You staying or what?” He
points at my feet, which are still strapped into a pair of hot pink running
shoes from our walk at the park.

Kicking them off and dropping
my bag on the foyer buffet, I say, “Yeah. Sure. I’ll stick around for a bit.”

I follow him to the living
room, draping myself across his sofa like I own the thing. Funny how
comfortable I’ve become lately, but I almost feel like I live here. At least
part-time.

“The court hearing is
tomorrow.” His solemn voice breaks my heart.

“I know.”

“I was wondering,” he swallows.
“If you’d come along. You know. As a friend.”

Popping up, I turn to him. “Of
course. I wouldn’t miss it.”

His face rests in his cupped
hand, his stare glazed, gray and despondent.

I go to him, falling to my
knees and taking his hand in mine. “It’s okay to be vulnerable sometimes. It’s
okay to be scared.”

Beckham smirks, refusing to
look at me.

“I’m serious,” I say. “I’m
asking you to let your guard down a little. You can be yourself with me. As
your friend, I’m asking you to stop being so damn strong all the time.”

Our eyes meet. I’m still on my
knees.

“I think we passed the
friend
stage a while back, don’t you?”
His words are hungry and scared and wanton all swirled into one low growl that
makes my heart stop cold.

“Did we?” My voice breaks,
residing meekly in the back of my throat.

He pulls me into his lap,
fingers laced around my waist as I lower my body against his. Our lips graze,
my fingers lacing around the back of his neck.

“What is this?” I whisper,
trying to curb my enthusiasm in case it’s another case of Beckham needing a
quick release.

His lips crush mine. “What do
you want it to be, Dess?”

Way to put me on the spot.

I taste his mouth again and
again, buying time and satiating my cravings.

“We’re something,” he says, his
voice reverberating from his chest into mine. “No fucking denying that.”

I nod, fingers lacing in his
thick, dark mane. “We really need to label it?”

His teeth rake across the flesh
of my neck, his lips burning and his hands traveling up my shirt.

“Yes,” he breathes. “I want to
fucking label it. I want to know that tomorrow, when I wake up, no matter what
happens, I’m going to have you. I can’t lose you both. I…can’t…”

Yanking my shirt over my head,
his hands slip under the lace demi cups of my bra, and he leans in to take a
pert nipple between his soft, wanting lips.

“Say you belong to me,” he
growls, pinching a nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “I need to hear it,
Dess…”

My head dips back, his hands
searching my body, skirting along my sensitive flesh.