Page 133 of Reputation (Tempt)

“Yes,” I said. “Please, Dad?” I hooked my arm in his and leaned my head on his shoulder. “This is important to me. You’rebothimportant to me.”

“I—”

Papa J whispered something in his ear that sounded a lot like “grandkids,” and Dad smiled.

Dad nodded, his expression solemn. “I’ll try.”

That was all I could ask for. It was a start. I might not know what the future held for Nate and me, but I loved him. He and Brooklyn were my family. And if Nate and I never got married, never had more children, this was enough.Wewere enough.

CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX

“Dad, what’s going to happen at the hearing?” Brooklyn asked, climbing into her bed.

I’d tried to shield her from the custody hearing as much as I could, but it was damn near impossible when it was plastered all over the internet. Even if my daughter hadn’t had a phone of her own, people talked. Other kids at her school were likely gossiping about it. I felt powerless in so many ways.

“What do you hope will happen?” I asked. I didn’t want to assume I knew Brooklyn’s answer, even if I was fairly confident what she’d say.

She burst into tears, and I hated seeing her so upset. “Please don’t make me live withher. I only want to live with you.”

“I know.” I wrapped my arms around her. “I know. And while I don’t know what the outcome will be, I promise I will do everything in my power to keep you with me.”

“I just…” She sniffled. “I just want you to promise that we’re going to be a family forever. You and Emerson and me.”

Even if Emerson and I were actually engaged, there was nothing I could do to assure Brooklyn we’d always be a family. Hell, my parents’ sudden and tragic deaths were proof of that. And it would be an even bigger lie to promise something so beyond my control.

“We willalwayslove you,” I said, knowing that no matter what happened between Emerson and me, she would always love my daughter. She would always put Brooklyn first.

Brooklyn started crying harder, burying her face in my chest as sobs racked her body.Damn Trinity.I rubbed Brooklyn’s back, my heart aching at the sight of her distress.

“Sweetheart,” I said gently. “It will all work out.” And I vowed that it would, even if I had to give Trinity my mom’s necklace.

All along, I’d hoped it wouldn’t come to that. But at this point, I wasn’t sure I had another option—at least not if I wanted to prevent the hearing from happening. And I did—desperately.

If it had been about money, I would’ve just paid Trinity off. But she wanted something that didn’t belong to her. Something she had no right to demand.

Brooklyn said something, but her words were muffled by my chest.

“What was that?” I asked.

She sat back a little but wouldn’t meet my gaze. She focused on the tassels of her blanket. She kept twirling them around her fingers. “How can I know that Emerson won’t leave like Mom did?”

“You can’t,” I said, hating the words as they left my mouth. Yet knowing they were true all the same. “But we have to trust that Emerson loves us and isn’t going anywhere.”

“I do trust her,” Brooklyn said, frowning. “But…I’m scared.”

If her biological mother had ditched her, how could Brooklyn trust anyone? It had always been a concern of mine, and I knew she’d talked to her therapist about it on multiple occasions. But clearly this custody hearing was stirring up more feelings regarding that issue—understandably.

Perhaps her therapist was right, and the only way to reassure Brooklyn was to show up for her—to be there for her again and again. And to model the behavior myself. I couldn’t guarantee that my trust wouldn’t be broken again—by Emerson or anyone else—but I could try. I could continue to give her the benefit of the doubt. And I would continue to hope she’d never betray me when so many others had.

I only hoped I was right. Because even though our engagement might be fake, I loved Emerson. And I couldn’t imagine our lives without her.

“You know what?” I asked, squeezing Brooklyn tight. “Sometimes, I’m scared too. Trusting someone is a leap of faith. There are no guarantees. But Emerson has shown us time and time again that she wants to be here. That she loves us.” I wished I could promise more, but that was the best I could offer.

“Think of all the times Emerson has been there for you,” I said. “Whether it was showing up at your play?—”

“Or helping me learn the lines or prepare my song for Christmas,” Brooklyn finished for me.

“Exactly,” I said, and we continued to list other instances, my heart swelling with love for Emerson with every example Brooklyn shared.

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