Page 81 of Married to the Frenemy

I lift my eyes toward him. “This isn’t your fight, Beckham. We’re not?—”

“If you’re about to tell me yet again that you’re not my responsibility, I’m going to stop you right now. There’s no fucking way I’m going to stand aside and let you fight this on your own. Not when I got you into this mess.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I didn’t?” he retorts incredulously, waving the papers in front of me. “He’s using my past in his argument for why Maggie’s better off with him.”

“It’s just one argument.” I take the papers from him. “He also mentioned my unstable job history and the fact that I used to work as a cocktail waitress at the casino. Trust me. Oliver was going to use anything and everything he could against me once he found out I kept Maggie. He doesn’t actually care about her. All he does care about is asserting his power back over me. He’s just using your past to strengthen his case.”

“Possibly, but you can’t turn down my help about this. I won’t let you. It’s one thing to refuse my offer to get Maggie a new bike or put in a trampoline. You can’t refuse my help about this. Not when you’re my wife.”

“Fake wife,” I remind him, unsure if it’s more for me or him.

“You’re also someone I care about.” He brings his hands to my face. “So is Maggie. This may be a strange notion to you, considering your parents, but people who care about each other help each other. So that’s what I’m going to do. You can yell at me all you want. Hell, you can hate me if that’s what you need to do. But you are not going through this alone.”

His grip on my face is firm, almost desperate as he pleads with me. Begs me to let him in. To let him do this for me. For us.

And therein lies the problem. I’ve never let anyone in before. Not even Beckham all those years ago. I always kept him just out of reach, always protecting myself because I knew I’d never have the strength to fight for him.

“You’re making this really hard for me,” I admit through the emotion in my throat.

“What? To say no?” He smirks, breaking through the tension. “I have that effect on people.”

Normally, I’d laugh or roll my eyes at his joke.

Not right now, though.

“No, Beckham. You’re making it really hard to keep you out.”

His expression softens as he tips my head back, inching his mouth toward mine. “Then let me in.”

“I’m not sure if I know how.”

A serene look crosses his face. “I’ll help you with that, too.”

He covers my mouth, his kiss achingly soft.

This isn’t how it’s supposed to be between us. It’s supposed to be filled with lust and raw need. It’s not supposed to be filled with emotion and warmth.

But I can’t manage to push him away. Instead, I do what I didn’t think I could.

I let him in.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

BECKHAM

“Watch me, Beck!” Maggie squeals as she flies down the slide on the playscape outside Jude’s brewery. The sun warms my skin as I sit on the back patio and sip on a coffee.

Since Haley had to meet with her lawyer this afternoon, she asked me to pick up Maggie from preschool, who then begged to come here and play. I could have told her she could play on her swing set at home, but I know how much she loves being around other little kids, something she can’t do at home.

“Good job, kiddo,” I call out to her.

Ever since Haley received the custody petition last week, I’ve looked at Maggie differently. And every time I see how happy she is, no thanks to her pathetic excuse of a sperm donor, I get even more angry over the idea that he’s trying to get custody of Maggie.

Then feel even more guilty about the role I’ve played in all of it.

“I never thought I’d see this,” Jude states as he plops down in the chair across from me, throwing a dishtowel onto the table between us.

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