Page 127 of Perfect Pitch

My tears scare Beckett, who pleads, “No, please. Stop. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He fumbles out, “I had no idea until I heard you play that night at Redemption.”

“You’re full of it,” I say.

“It was like hearing your mother speak French all over again. Did she tell you she used to try to help tutor me?”

“She did?”

“When you sang, I felt chills down my spine. Your mother’s voice surrounded me, and it was like a dream. Then I thought I was hallucinating when I saw her racing down the stairs at the club.”

“The dance,” I whisper. I wrap my arms around myself.

“I was going to talk with her. And then I saw you, Austyn.” The naked pain on his face tells me more than words ever could.

I release some of the resentment over the emotional turmoil my mother’s suffered and ask, “Do you know my name from these?” I lay my hand on top of Carys’s files.

I give him points for honesty because he doesn’t pretend. “Yes. And because your mother told me your name downstairs.”

“She did? What else did she say?”

“To be kind to you, that you’ve had too many shocks today.”

I smile, and his face goes slack. And that’s before I announce, “Well, obviously, Beckett is on Team Mama and not Team Douche.”

“He’d better be because she didn’t deserve a damn thing that happened to her. Or to you,” Carys declares. “Don’t worry about your mama, sweetie. We’re all going to protect her. Right, Dad?” She skewers Beckett with a look that easily says, Don’t mess this up.

Even though it takes him a moment, he vows, “Right. I swear, Austyn, I’ll do everything I can to protect your mother.”

I let out a huge sigh of relief, body sagging into Carys’s arms.

He blurts out the first of a million questions I’m sure he has for a fully grown daughter. “So, you were born in Austin?”

Carys emits a light chuckle. “Finally, I’ll get Austyn’s version of the story.”

I shake my head, a small, sad smile lifting my lips. “Actually, no. I was born in Kensington. Mama used to tell me she had a big fight with Gramps about it. She said there was no way in hell she was naming her child Kensington Kensington. Mama said she informed Gramps she would either name me Austyn Kensington or after my father—his choice.”

Beckett looks destroyed. It prompts me to leave the safety of Carys’s embrace, to take a tentative step toward my father. Then another, until I’m standing right next to him.

Is there a protocol for this? I think wildly. I don’t remember this in cotillion class. Going on instinct, I hold out my hand. “Austyn Melissa Kensington. It’s a pleasure to meet you finally.”

He grips my hand before tugging slightly. With a small cry, I land against his chest. “The pleasure is definitely mine, Austyn.”

My arms tighten around him hesitantly before I let go. As for Beckett? He’s not ashamed of the tears that fall from his eyes that I can see.

Seconds later, there’s a pounding against the door. Then I hear Mitch shout frantically, “Beckett, we heard a scream!”

God, oh god. Why didn’t I put it together that if my father is here, likely my lover would be as well.

The door flings open, and Mitch’s eyes latch onto mine before they flick over to Beckett—who is growling in his direction.

Words Mitch shared about his boss ring through my head.

The way his boss teased him when we were just fumbling our way to an us.

How Beckett taunted him about having a girlfriend.

My father’s face is a mask of fury as his eyes reconnect with mine. “No, just no.”

I cross my arms before reminding him softly, “You don’t get a say in who’s in my life, let alone who is in my bed.”

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