Page 29 of One and Only

“You’re on a jobsite?” he asked.

“Yeah, we’ve got a home on Detroit Lake that we’ve been working on for months. I’ve been out here most of the week.” I walked farther out from the house, exhaling slowly as the noise and chaos receded the closer I got to the water.

Beckett went quiet. “You’ll be there all day? Or do you have to go back to Sisters?”

“I planned to be here all day, why?”

“Detroit is only about forty-five minutes from my house,” he said. “I’m east of Salem.”

I swallowed hard. The logistics of how we planned to pull this off was very high on my list of things we needed to discuss. “I noticed, when you sent me your address.”

Beckett pulled in an audible breath. “Josie plans to come out here tonight after Olive is in bed. I think she wants to discuss some options, considering she’s having second thoughts.”

With the toe of my work boots, I kicked at a loose stone on the ground in front of me. What would be a good wifely thing to say?

“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked.

“No,” he said immediately. “I was wondering if you could … come.”

My head snapped up. “What?”

“I know it’s last minute. But I was thinking about what you said. That we won’t know unless we try. And maybe if Josie sees us, sees that I’m not alone.” His voice halted. “And more importantly, if she sees how you are with Olive, I think she’ll stick with her plan to go with Micah.”

I glanced back at the house, blowing out some air through puffed cheeks. I chewed on my thumbnail for a second while my thoughts raced at breakneck speed.

“When will she be there?” I asked.

“Around eight. I know it’s late, and it’s asking a lot, but …” Beckett paused. “I think this is the best place to start. If she doesn’t buy it, or tonight fails, then we have no reason to involve your family at all.”

“Oh, she’ll believe us,” I said. “I refuse to consider any other option.”

We’d convince the baby mama. We’d convince my family. We’d convince everyone.

“Okay. But … if we don’t, then the fallout is minimal at this point.”

My almost husband was not going to get away with this half-ass belief in us.

Everyone would believe us because dammit, I said so.

“If that’s the kind of pep talk you give your team, I’d hate to be in that locker room at halftime,” I told him.

He muttered something, but I couldn’t understand it. But the grumbly, annoyed tone had me grinning nonetheless.

“I’ll be there before eight,” I said. “And Beckett, you better get your game face on because I’m not failing anything.”

I glanced down because ripped-knee work site jeans, my steel-toed boots, and a black-and-red-plaid shirt over a plain white tank wasn’t exactly what I would’ve chosen to wear when meeting my fake husband’s friendly ex of a baby mama, but I was nothing if not flexible.

* * *

If my arms hadn’t been loaded down with samples in a big cardboard box, I would’ve taken a few more minutes to admire Beckett’s place upon arrival. His porch was big—incredible space for chairs and a swing, some big planters. And the land was beautiful—mature trees tucked next to the house, lush green grass and big flowering bushes.

But the weight of the box was clumsy, and it sort of felt like my shoulders were about to fall out of the socket, so my only option to announce my arrival at Beckett’s door was a good swift kick to the solid wood surface with my steel-toed boots.

He swung the door open, appraising me with wide eyes. “You look…”

“A mess, I know.” I let him take the box from my grip, and I blew out a quick breath as I studied the room in front of me. “But give me ten minutes and a brush, and I promise I won’t scare Josie away.”

He cleared his throat. “I was going to say different. Every time I see you, it’s like a new version of Greer Wilder.”

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