Page 95 of Married to the Frenemy

“I was wondering the same thing. All afternoon, I kept replaying our conversation over in my mind. Do you know what stood out?”

“What’s that?” I ask shakily.

“He kept insisting that I sell to a development firm by the name of Benson and Associates.”

I dart my eyes toward his, inhaling a sharp breath.

“I gather it rings a bell.”

“Yeah. It…uh?—”

“Maggie’s birth father is a junior partner there,” he says in a low voice. “Isn’t that right?”

“Yes.”

“The same birth father who filed a petition for custody last week.”

I don’t even bother asking how he knows. “Yes.”

“And the same birth father who, the same day as Beckham rescinded his offer to buy my vineyard, withdrew his petition for custody.”

My heart squeezes and it feels like the ground is about to give out from under me. “What are you saying?” I ask, resting my hand on the island to steady myself.

“I’m saying it’s curious. We both know Beckham wouldn’t give up this vineyard unless he had a damn good reason. And it’s certainly not because he lied to me, or whatever he believes. Hell, the reason I put the condition on the sale is because Estelle and I were hoping to play matchmaker.”

“What a minute. Grandma Estelle was behind this, too?” My eyes widen, although I shouldn’t be surprised.

For a woman who never married herself, she does like to play matchmaker quite a bit. She certainly played a hand in getting Parker and Callum together.

“We knew if Beckham would ask anyone to marry him, even for a short period of time, it would probably be you. He’s always had a soft spot for you, Haley. I think he always will.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” I scoff.

“Don’t count him out yet. Beckham can be…stubborn.”

I cross my arms in front of my chest. “Don’t I know it.”

“I think he’s holding onto his guilt about what happened to you because without it, he’ll have to face the truth.”

“What’s that?”

Grady gives me a knowing look. “I think we both know. And I think he’s just too scared to face that right now. Just be patient with him. Forgiveness is a process.”

“I’ve already forgiven him.”

“I’m not talking about you. I’m talking about him finally forgiving himself.” He gives my bicep a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll see myself out.”

I watch as he retreats, replaying the entire conversation in my mind. I still can’t believe Beckham would give up the vineyard just so I wouldn’t have to endure a custody battle.

The weight of his sacrifice hits me like a ton of bricks, a knot forming in my throat. If I’d known, I never would have allowed him to do that. I would have fought Oliver. I was ready to fight him. Was ready to prove to the world that, just because someone made a mistake in their past, it doesn’t define who they are.

My past mistakes don’t define me.

And Beckham’s past mistakes don’t define him.

Except he seems to be clinging onto those past mistakes as a reason for everything.

Or maybe an excuse.

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