“Don’t make any promises you have no intention of keeping.” I pin him with a heated stare. “Your track record in that department isn’t all that great.”
He swallows hard, but doesn’t offer an excuse or an explanation. After this long, I doubt I’ll ever get one.
“Every decision I make is with her in mind,” I continue, ignoring the giant elephant in the room. “What’s best for her.”
“I can respect that. Which is why I’m willing to take care of her preschool and daycare expenses, along with groceries, your car payment. You’d even be able to go on my health insurance. You won’t have to worry about a single thing.”
I straighten, opening and closing my mouth several times before asking, “Why would you do that?”
“If you’re willing to go along with this, there should be some sort of incentive besides a roof over your head. Plus, it would allow you to save money and maybe finally open the bakery you always dreamed of. If that’s still your dream.” He averts his gaze, laughing nervously.
I have to hand it to him. He knows exactly what to say to make me give serious consideration to this crazy idea. We may not have spoken much over the past several years, but he still remembers the dreams I shared with him during that one fateful summer.
Owning a bakery has been my dream for as long as I can remember. And not just any bakery, either. Sure, I’d sell the typical cakes, muffins, and cookies, but I hoped to specialize in hyper realistic cakes. I’ve always loved art and baking. This combines my two passions.
Even with my hectic life, I practice making cakes that look like everyday objects every chance I get.
It’s not as easy in my tiny home, but Parker lets me use the kitchen at her inn between meal service. I’ve been lucky enough to make cakes for a few weddings, thanks to Parker recommending me to brides looking for a more non-traditional wedding cake.
I’d love to be able to quit my crappy job at the casino and bake all day, every day. Have somewhere Maggie would be welcome. Do something that would make her proud, instead of wearing a skimpy dress as I serve drunken men with wandering hands.
“How long would this marriage have to last?”
“I’d like to stay married for at least six months after the sale goes through. That way, Grady doesn’t get suspicious. At that point, there won’t be anything he could do even if he were to find out the truth…”
“But you still don’t want him to know.”
Beckham shrugs. “He’s done so much for me. Especially after…everything,” he says evasively. But I know what he’s talking about.
Grady Belanger was one of the few people in town willing to give Beckham a chance after he’d gotten out of prison. He refused to let one mistake define him.
Even if Beckham still allows it to define him.
“I’d rather he not learn I lied just so he’d sell to me.”
I nod, processing everything he just offered. It’s definitely an appealing proposal and would solve quite a few of my problems.
But I’m not the only one who this will affect.
“Can I have some time to think about it? There’s a lot I need to consider.” I gesture toward the bedroom door.
“Of course.” He stands, shrugging on his coat and returning his beanie to his head as he walks toward the door. But before slipping outside, he pauses, glancing back at me.
“Even if you say no, you’re still welcome to move in with me, and at an affordable rent. I’m barely there anyway. I’m not going to let you live out of your car, Haley.”
“I’ll think about it,” I tell him once more.
“Thanks.” He holds my gaze for a few more beats, then closes the door behind him, the sound of his boots crunching on the gravel growing duller as he retreats.
Once I can no longer hear them, I sink into my chair, my brain reeling.
There was a time I would have done anything for him.
But that was a lifetime ago. Before he shut me out. Before he pretended I don’t exist.
Can I really marry him and keep my heart intact, knowing when it ends, I’ll lose him all over again?
CHAPTER SEVEN