Page 88 of Perfect Composition
For just a moment, I’m about to apologize until I realize I’m right to feel the small amount of resentment I still hold. I need him to address this before we can move on. Yes, by his accepting our child, by doing whatever he’s needed to do to stop his life and be here for us while we’re dealing with the fallout of my father, he’s mostly atoned for whatever misplaced hurt I’ve endured because he carried the burden of my own father’s betrayal so I didn’t have to. Except one.
He still left me behind. And despite whatever part of my heart that will always belong to this man, I’m afraid to completely give the rest over to him until I know the reason why I was forsaken.
So, it’s with bated breath I wait for his reply.
His fingers fidget with mine. “When I left… I don’t remember much clearly, Paige. All I remember feeling was pain, agonizing pain. I was so bruised, I could barely lift the bag I packed.” His strong face contorts in pain.
“What was in it? What did you pack?” I ask in an effort to distract him from remembering.
Instead, it does just the opposite. He buries his face in the crook of my neck. “I had some jeans, tees, briefs, and the like.” I feel him swallow hard. “And…”
“And what?”
“And I’d bought you flowers just like the ones in your mama’s picture. It was so stupid, but they were in the bag. I smelled those fucking things on my clothes for days after I left. And all I could think about was you and what you must be feeling.”
My body jerks at his confession. “You bought me flowers?”
“They were dust before I finally threw them out.”
I lick my lips, wetting them, before I ask something I need to know. “Have you ever bought anyone else flowers?”
He pulls his head back. His face is serious. “Just once. And it wasn’t that long ago.”
My heart starts free-falling in my chest until he finishes, “They were for Angie.”
I blink in shock. “Carys’s Angie?”
He nods. “I put together who she really is. And if someone was ever deserving of flowers, bird, it’s that woman.”
I frown, recalling the night I met her at Redemption. “Something happened to her.”
“It’s her story to share fully, but yes.”
“And how does that man factor in?” Before Beckett can think I’m gossiping, I explain, “He scared her that night. I mean terrified her.”
He cups the side of my cheek. “It wasn’t Ward who scared her; it was the past. And it’s fine.”
My brows come together as I frown. “You’re certain?”
“Well, considering I almost decked him and she stood in front of him to avoid him taking my fist, I’d say so.”
I begin shaking with silent laughter. “Because that would have looked so good in the media. I can just see it now—“Rock God Beckett Miller decks ‘Winsome’ Ward Burke over a woman.”
If anything, his face becomes more serious. “You do realize that about seventy to eighty percent of what’s written about me is utter crap?”
I sit up and draw my knees to my chest. He does the same. “Honesty?”
His fingers reach for mine again. “I expect nothing less.”
“I didn’t want to. I wanted to believe you were some man-whoring ass who had everyone pandering to him. It made it easier to hate you.”
His fingers rub back and forth over my knuckles. “And now?”
“Now, I’m feeling as much guilt and am probably more sorry than you are. I’m an adult, an educated woman, and a mother. I could have hired the investigators myself years ago, just like I did to protect Austyn from your law firm. And I’m kicking myself because what would have happened then?”
His fingers tighten on mine. “Neither of us can know, Paige. I made the best choices I could; you trusted people you believed in. And look where it brought us.”
And my lips curve as my foot encounters his hair-roughened leg beneath the sheets. “Back where we started.”
