Page 58 of No Kind of Hero
“Oh,” she said, and sighed. “If they were French doors, with the panes and the handles, those curving kind. And if the bricks were weathered, or even better—flagstones. The ones that are all different shapes, like you don’t need to be perfect, like you can take it easy. And if you had a thing over the patio. Those are lilacs along the side of the yard, aren’t they?”
“Yep. And the ‘thing’ is a pergola, if you mean a structure.”
“And flowers for shade,” she said as if she’d seen straight into his mind and gone right to the snapshot there. “Roses. Climbing ones. White, or maybe pink. If the pergola was white? Or is that too girly?”
“Not for a house with a girl in it.” He needed to stop this. Beth wasn’t going to be playing house with him, however much in sync they were on their backyard plans. This was pretending, and it had to stop. “Gracie,” he added, reminding himself as much as her.
“Oh,” she said. “Right. I wanted to talk to you more about that anyway.”
“About what? Gracie?” He reached for her, because her nose was running again, and she was starting to make some protesting sounds like she hadn’t been held nearly enough this morning. “She likes the pergola idea. Also, she wants a dog. A dog, roses, and a white picket fence. She’s kind of traditional.”
Beth smiled, then was serious. “Have you talked to an attorney at all about custody?”
His arm tightened around Gracie. What the hell? “No.”
“Evan.” Beth swung her legs down from his lap and stood up. “More coffee?”
“Yeah. But we need to leave in fifteen minutes.”
“I can tell you this in two.” She refilled their cups from the pot, brought them back, and sat down again. “I haven’t researched it fully yet, but the first thing’s obvious. You need to petition for custody. You’ll never have a stronger position. Gracie’s a baby, her mom left when she was a newborn, and she hasn’t been back. You could get people to swear to that, right?”
“Yeah.” He didn’t want to talk about this. It made him want to pace. “Dakota and Russell, obviously. José, maybe. My mom.”
“Mm. Family’s probably not as good. Especially your mom. But I’ll bet you could get Blake, too. Blake Orbison—that’s some credibility. And I wouldn’t wait. If April comes back and takes Gracie for any time at all? The second she does that, your case just got weaker.”
“That’s not happening. I’m not letting April take her.” He must have tightened his hold on Gracie too much, because she squawked, and he let her stand up on his thighs while he held her under the arms and tried to get a grip on himself.
“You don’t get a choice,” Beth said.
“The hell I don’t.”
“Evan.” She was leaning across the table now, her face intent, all the lawyer back. “I don’t do family law, but I know the basics. And the basics are—both parents have equal rights to that child unless the courts say otherwise.”
“Not if one of themleft.”
“Yes if one of them left. How does the court know that? You need proof. You need custody.” She studied him for a minute, her eyes as always looking too deep. “But you’re afraid to rock the boat.”
“Well, yeah. Of course I am.”
“You need to rock it anyway.” She wasn’t tentative now. This was that other Beth, the one she must be in the rest of her life, the one he hadn’t seen. “Possession is nine-tenths of the law. Right now, you have possession, and you have nine-tenths. Sort of. Not really. April has one-tenth, and that number bumps up the second she comes back. She’s the mother.”
That had pretty much ended their cozy kitchen time. He’d dropped Beth off at Dakota’s, had kissed her goodbye and said, “If you wanted to come by tonight, we could barbecue or something.” Knowing he was in over his head, and saying it anyway.
Six days. She was here six more days. And if he wanted to make those six days count? Well, it wasn’t like he was giving anything up for it. It wasn’t like there was anybody else in his bed.
Sucker for women,he heard as he watched her walk barefoot up the driveway in that gauzy yellow dress and that mess of blonde hair, swinging her sandals by their straps and looking like an ad for summer. She turned at the door and waved, and he told his heart to settle down and headed to his mom’s.
Work. Real life. Now.
Was it that easy? Of course not.
“So,” his mom said when she’d taken Gracie out of his arms. “Beth Schaefer. Honey, are you sure?”
“Nope,” he said. “I’m not. But seems I can’t help myself.”
“I’m not saying she’s a bad person,” his mom said. “I’m saying she’s not a strong one.”
“Like April. And I’m a rescuer,” he finished for her. “Beth said the same thing.”
