Page 15 of Best Kept Secret

The server returned with my card, and I signed the check, sliding my card back into my wallet.

"So, when do we do this?" Fallon asked as we got ready to leave.

I considered it. "The family descends for dinner tonight. I can't hold them off. Let's say next Friday? Come over after lunch, Pari will be up from her nap, and then you can stay for dinner."

When we got up to leave, Fallon slid a hand around my waist and leaned into me. "It's cute to hear you talk about a little girl's nap time. What's next, you gonna learn how to braid her hair?"

I wrapped my arm around her as we walked out of the restaurant. "She wears pigtails and looks freakin' adorable. So, yeah, I'll learn how to braid her hair."

"Maybe also hire a nanny?" Fallon suggested.

If Mira lives with us, maybe I won't need a nanny. We could raise Pari together and….

Fuck me! Was I thinking about becoming a family with Mira?Me? The confirmed bachelor? Perhaps Fallon was right; Iwasthinking with my dick and not my head.

Chapter 6

Mira

Everything was moving too fast. In fact, it had been for the past three years, ever since Asha was diagnosed with her heart condition—but now it was completely out of control.

A doctor had come by to take a DNA sample from Pari in the afternoon. Beau was talking about nannies and daycare for Pari. He'd also mentioned that he wanted Pari to speak to a child psychologist, which got my back up, but I kept my mouth shut. Pari was, after all, Beau's daughter, and it was his right and responsibility to make sure she was emotionallyandphysically healthy. But it felt like a slap to the face.

"How about the flower dress?" I suggested to Pari as I showed her the bright dress with red and yellow flowers.

The fabric pattern was Indian, which was why I'd bought it at Marshall's on sale for five dollars. My clothes were old and falling apart, but I made sure Pari was always sharply dressed. It wasn't her fault that I was inept and couldn't find a way to take care of her and keep a job or keep Asha's money to raise her. I wanted Pari to look like she belonged to someone capable, someone who could give her the life she deserved. Not like me.Never like me.

I knelt in front of her, gently brushing her hair back from her face. She was so beautiful, so perfect, and I couldn't grasp how I'd been trusted with her for this long. Every time I looked at her, the fear crept in, gripping me from the inside. How could Ieverbe enough for her?

My parents had drilled that into me early on—reminded me, over and over again, how I'd never live up to their expectations, how I was always a disappointment. Asha had tried to protect me, but she'd had her own problems, her own struggles. We both bore the burden of our childhood years.

It wasn't just my parents' voices that I heard in my head; it was my own as well, telling me I was useless, broken, and unworthy.

Now, living in Beau's house with its grand rooms and expensive everything, I felt it all over again. The same suffocating feeling of inadequacy, like I was right back in my parents' home, being reminded that I belonged there for as long as I was useful, and after that, I'd be thrown out like the trash I was.

Pari looked up at me, her eyes wide and shining with innocence, and I wanted to cry. She trusted me. She loved me. And I was going to lose her—I could feel it in my bones. Beau was her father. No matter what I'd done, no matter how hard I'd tried, I couldn't compete with him. I couldn't fight for her—notwhen I knew, deep down, I'd never be able to give her what he could. Not when all I had to offer were desperation and things pulled from bargain bins.

I swallowed hard and forced a smile. "You are so beautiful, myShona."

Pari smiled up at me as I fumbled with the zipper on her dress, my hands trembling. I tried to steady them, but the truth gnawed at me—relentless, unforgiving. Beau had already mapped out her future: nannies, daycare, psychologists, the whole perfect picture. And me? What did I have to offer her, beyond love? But we both knew love couldn't fill an empty stomach or keep you warm through the night.

How could I fight for her when I couldn't even fight for myself?

I stood up, watching as Pari twirled in the blue dress, completely unaware of the storm inside me. She laughed, and for a moment, the sound lifted me. I let it. I would live in the moment, and right now, everything was good. Soon, Beau's family would come—his mother, his brother, his sister-in-law, and his sister—they'd probably also feel as Beau did; Pari washis,theirs, notmine. I knew this could happen. That didn't make it any easier, so I repeated what I had been mentally chanting ever since I'd decided to reach out to Beau: "If the choice is between Beau and Mr. and Mrs. Sen—there really isn't a choice, Mira."

The superfluousness of my presence became even more apparent during dinner, which I found overwhelming. The kind that makes you wish you could disappear into the wallpaper, which, in this case, was an elegant pale blue, and probably cost more than everything I owned.

Roxy had made some kind of fancy roast with sides that looked incredible, but I barely touched my plate. I could feel their eyes on me—Beau's family. Watching. Waiting. Hoping, maybe, for me to misstep.

I knew the feeling. How often had I sat at the dinner table with my parents and their friends and our relatives, afraid to do anything to make my mother angry? Or worse, embarrass my father.

Beau was too caught up with Pari to notice how his family watched me, their eyes sharp and unrelenting, like hawks circling prey. He was focused on making sure she had enough mashed potatoes, carefully cutting up her food into bite-sized pieces. Pari was beaming, thrilled with all the attention. And Beau... he was sweet with her—more thoughtful than I'd ever expected. It stung, a deep, aching kind of pain because I knew this was what she needed. Not me. Him.

Again, I wondered why Asha hadn't told him about Pari. All of this would have been so much easier—and my heart wouldn't be as broken as it was right now. I was losing my only family, and I'd brought this upon myself by driving to Savannah from Atlanta with just enough money to feed Pari and pay for gas.

"Beau said you worked in a diner," Katya said, her voice dripping with casual curiosity, but her eyes flicked to Donna, who raised an eyebrow as she took a sip of her wine.

I was not embarrassed by the work I did. I was a damned good cook. In fact, if Asha had not fallen ill, I'd probably be a sous chef at a fancy restaurant, having completed my education at the prestigious Culinary Institute of America. But then Katya was a doctor and her husband a teacher. These people had mile-long degrees, while I had only finished high school. "Yeah, I worked as a cook."

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