Page 129 of Perfect Composition
“She got waylaid by Linnie and her husband. She and Gramps are making their way over.” Austyn starts to teeter a bit as she tries to nab a glass from a passing waiter.
Simon snatches two fresh glasses while I boost my daughter higher against my back. Then he hands each of us new glasses. I try to sip my celebratory drink while Austyn keeps on the lookout and chokes me at the same time, spilling champagne on my shirt.
Like I give a damn.
“I have to say, I’m finding your bodyguards awfully useful, Beckett,” Simon’s wife, Bristol Brogan-Houde, comments.
I glare down at my longtime financial advisor. “Good, take them off my hands. You’re rich enough to afford them.”
She grins. “I just meant that for once I can enjoy my husband at one of these after-parties without being closed off in a dressing room that smells like cilantro and moldy cheese.”
I bark out a laugh when the flush rides the Tony-Award-winning actor’s face. “Your sister started it.”
“Actually, darling…” Bristol starts to contradict, but Austyn yells.
“Here they all come!”
Kane and Mitch separate away from the entrance to the VIP area to allow Paige, Tyson, Evangeline, and her husband to enter. Austyn slides off my back to run to her mother while introductions and greetings are exchanged by everyone else. Then finally, finally, I have Paige where I need her.
With me. Next to me.
But before she can say how she felt about the show, Tyson is holding out his hand. “Congratulations, Beckett. You—both of you”—he gazes down at his granddaughter, who is standing next to him—“created magic out there tonight. Being able to sit in that audience will be among one of the greatest moments of my life.”
“What were some of the others, Gramps?” Austyn asks. Before he can answer, she teases, “Does bailing me out the clink for sneaking into Rodeo Ralph’s with a fake ID count?”
He bops her on the end of her nose and informs her, “No. That wasn’t even in the top ten.”
I murmur to Paige, “You didn’t mention that.”
“Fortunately, Ralph just called the sheriff to scare her. He didn’t press charges.”
“Uh-huh.” I think about the way Sheriff Lewis openly admired Paige, and I growl.
She turns and pats my stomach before promising, “We’ll take care of that later.”
A stupid feeling of euphoria lances through me.Yes, we will. Then I tune back in to what Tyson is saying.
“No, the things I’m most proud of are your Grams, your uncles, and your mother. They’ve been the greatest joys—and sorrows—of my life. But like you and your dad showed me tonight, you can’t earn the strength of such love without equal measures of pain sometimes. Both have always been mine; I just didn’t handle one well.” His eyes find mine, before he dips his chin in acknowledgment and a silent apology.
For just a moment, I hold on to the bitterness, but then I see Austyn next to him. Paige shifts restlessly next to me, and I realize I can support them giving him a second chance. Not only because I have the rainbow and the pot of gold at the end, but because if something happens, I’ll be there if they fall.
I’ll always be here. That will never change. Not ever again.
“That’s in the past. Let’s move on,” I hear myself say. “What was your favorite part of the show?”
Paige’s body bucks against mine in response. I just hope she’s not crying. She’ll be pissed if we face the media out the stage door and her makeup is ruined.
“The music. Best part of the whole show.” Tyson wraps his arm around Austyn and kisses the top of her head.
Evangeline leans into her husband before surprising the hell out of me. “I agree. Never before have I ever sung a score so brilliant. Becks, Austyn, I think you both have a whole new career path ahead of you—if you want it.”
Huh. Something to think about for another day. “We can talk later. Right now, I need to get my fiancée something to wipe up these black tears.”
Paige groans. “Great. Another photo where I look like ’90s goth.”
“A great time in music history,” I comment absentmindedly as I dab at her eyes with the tissues Simon passes me.
Everyone in our group laughs except Paige, who swats at me.
