Page 11 of Married to the Frenemy

“It’ll have an enormous yard, with lots of grass and trees. But also lots of good hiding places so we can play hide and seek.” My heart warms as the image of the dream home where I can raise my daughter takes shape in my mind. “The inside will be spacious but not impersonal. There will be a few stains on the rug, some chips in the paint. But that’s okay, because it’s a kid’s home. And no one will yell at Maggie for spilling her juice by mistake.”

The more I speak, the more excited I get about the picture in my head. The more real it feels.

I open my eyes and scribble down notes on the pad. “She’ll have her very own bedroom, painted a combination of pink and teal, since those are her current favorite colors. And it will have a loft bed with a slide and a secret clubhouse underneath, like the one I’d love to be able to buy her.” My heart warms with excitement as I imagine the look on her face when she sees it.

“Our home will be filled with love and laughter and everything I wished for when I was her age. That’s what she deserves. What we both?—”

A sudden loud knock interrupts my train of thought, and I dart my eyes to the door, wondering who it could be after ten on a Tuesday.

The only person I can think of is Parker. It’s not completely unusual for her to stop by when she needs to talk, since she knows I can’t leave Maggie.

Standing, I walk the short distance toward the door and pull it open. “Is everything?—”

I snap my mouth shut when I see the person standing outside isn’t a tall blonde, but a muscular grump with a permanent scowl etched on his face.

At least when he looks at me.

I don’t fault him for it. He has every reason to hate me.

Even so, I can’t deny how attractive he is in his winter jacket and beanie, a bit of scruff dotting his jawline.

“You’re not Parker,” I blurt out, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

“Looks like your eyesight is still good.”

“Sorry. I just… She’s the only person who stops by.”

Beckham stares at me for several more seconds, the tension becoming increasingly awkward.

It always does whenever we’re forced to interact with each other.

Maybe because I still don’t know what to do or say around him.

“Is there a reason you’re here?” I ask when I can’t take the tension any longer.

He pinches his lips together, seeming to contemplate my question. His expression is so serious, so pensive.

“Can I come in for a minute?” he sighs. “There’s something I’d like to talk to you about and I’d rather not do it on your stoop.”

My curiosity piqued, I step back, pulling the door wide for him to enter, even though I hate the idea of Beckham Lawrence seeing where I live.

It’s not a bad place. Belinda’s husband built this addition years ago when his mother was older and couldn’t live on her own anymore. There’s a bedroom, as well as a tiny kitchenette and living area, not to mention my own private entrance so we don’t have to bother Belinda. But it’s definitely cramped.

In the beginning, I didn’t need a lot of room. It was just me and a baby. But now that Maggie’s older, she requires more space. Most nights, I sleep on the couch and let her have the bedroom.

“Keep your voice low. Maggie’s sleeping.” I gesture at the slightly ajar door just off the cluttered living area.

“Of course,” he whispers as he takes off his beanie and shrugs out of his jacket, draping it over the back of one of the chairs by the tiny bistro table.

I can’t help but admire his rugged good looks, especially now that he’s more mature than he was all those years ago. And just like all those years ago, my heart rate picks up in his presence, particularly as my eyes focus on his lips.

“Can I get you anything?” I quickly look away. “Whiskey? Beer? I have some wine, too, although I’m not sure it’s any good.” Smirking, I nod at the bottle boasting the familiar label of his vineyard.

“Believe me, Haley. That’s a good one. Would put any of those Napa wines to shame. But no. Nothing for me. I won’t stay long. I...” He trails off, his eyes focused on the notepad I left on the table.

Panic shoots through me and I move quickly toward it, but before I can snatch it away, he picks it up.

Great. This is exactly what I need. Beckham Lawrence learning how much I’m struggling financially. He’ll probably tell me this is what I deserve.

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