“I’ll take a DNA test,” he offers. “I’ll do whatever I need to do for you to believe me. I would never …”
I silence him with a slow kiss. “I know.”
Wrapping my arms over his broad shoulders, I pull him against me, and I hold him.
Sometimes all you can do for someone is to be there.
“I won’t let him take her,” he whispers.
“I know you won’t.”
“And when this is over, I’m going to kill him. I’m going to murder that bastard.”
I smirk. “No, you won’t.”
“By the time I’m through, he’ll wish he were dead.”
Forty-Two
Bennett
* * *
“I ran out for donuts. Pink with white sprinkles.” Astaire balances a cardboard box in her hand Saturday morning before placing it next to the bouquet of flowers.
Jeannie will be arriving with Honor any minute.
“Flowers. Balloons. Donuts. Think we’re all set.” I kiss her cheek before making myself a cup of coffee. “But something tells me the thing she’s going to love the most … is you.”
Honor has no idea Astaire and I are dating.
We wanted to wait until it was just the three of us, sit her down, explain that we’re good friends who spend a lot of time together. For now, I thought it was imperative that she be here for this moment. Having a familiar face—someone she adores—will only enrich this experience for her.
Three knocks at the door.
“They’re here.” Astaire rises on the balls of her feet and gives me a lightning-fast hug before slipping her hand in mine and leading me to the foyer. “This is so exciting. I’m already getting teary-eyed …”
I laugh under my breath, gather a long breath, and get the door.
“Hello, hello …” Jeannie’s mouth curls into a reserved smile, but her eyes are glassy. All this time, I’ve never stopped to think of how bittersweet this moment must be for her, knowing she’ll likely never see this child again. She holds a medium cardboard box, and Honor hides behind her, playing peek-a-boo and fighting a grin.
“Please, come in.” I step aside and Honor whips around Jeannie’s legs and sprints toward me, wrapping my legs in a tiny squeeze, one I feel all the way to my chest.
Jeannie places the box on the floor next to the entry rug. From what I can tell, it contains a few clothes. A ragged teddy bear with a dangling eye. A naked baby doll. And a plastic jewelry box.
“Ms. Carraro!” Honor squeals, though she’s still stuck to me like glue. “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to be a part of your special day,” she says.
“Yay!” Honor bounces.
“Hi, Jeannie. I’m Astaire Carraro. Honor’s kindergarten teacher and a good friend of Bennett’s.” Astaire greets Jeannie with a handshake. “Lovely to meet you.”
“You as well,” Jeannie says.
“We’ve got donuts if you’re hungry.” Astaire points to the kitchen.
Honor is still clinging to my leg. When Larissa first came to us, I remember the way she would cling to anyone who would let her cling to them. She was like a shadow. Always there. For a while, it was me. Then it was the gardener. The cook. My brother. Anyone who would pay her an ounce of attention was suddenly her new best friend.
It wasn’t until I was much older that I realized all she wanted was to be loved.
Reaching, I take Honor by the hand. “I hope you’re hungry. Jeannie, would you like to join us for breakfast?”
She swats her hand. I realize now she’s fighting back tears. “I won’t be staying, but thank you. And you have my number should you have questions or need anything.”
Jeannie shows herself out. Just like that. And just like that, it’s the three of us.
The place is quiet for a beat, like the world is shifting on its axis, realigning in a new direction. From this moment on, our lives will never be the same.
Honor’s.
Astaire’s.
Mine.
No one knows what the future brings. It isn’t possible. All I know is that as long as we have each other, we can weather any storm.
Forty-Three
Astaire
* * *
“Push me higher!” Honor squeals at the top of her lungs Sunday afternoon, pumping her little legs as she swings. It’s unusually warm for this time of year—sunny and mid-fifties, which meant it was the perfect opportunity to get out for a bit and get some fresh air. It just so happens there’s a darling little park a few blocks from Bennett’s place.
Yesterday was a dream. Honor’s arrival went off without a hitch. She loved her bear, her locket, the flowers, the donuts, the balloons, her pink bedroom—but most of all, she loved Bennett.
He was certain I’d be the hot ticket item, and sure, she was glad to see me, but Bennett was absolutely the star of the show.
While I wouldn’t exactly call him a natural with kids, I think he’s getting the hang of it. Last night after dinner, I gave Honor a bath and when we came out, he’d already dimmed the lights in her room and selected a bedtime story to read to her.
I think he’s going to do just fine with this whole fatherhood thing …
He stands in front of the swings, camera out as he snaps a picture.
I push Honor higher and our eyes catch.
He smiles.
I smile.
If I could bask in this moment forever, I would. It’s perfection in its most pure and simple form. A family memory in the making.
My heart swells.
When I look into his eyes, when I hear the conviction in his voice when he speaks about his family and his dedication to Honor—I know in my heart of hearts that he’s a good man.
And I believe him about Errol.
When we’re finished at the park, Bennett surprises us with a trip to a local ice cream parlor in his neighborhood. On the way home, he holds my hand as Honor skips ahead, her dark pigtails bouncing as she sings a song from school.
For the first time in years, I’m enveloped in head-to-toe warmth and there’s a fullness in my soul.
It’s a feeling I’ve felt only twice before—once with Linda and again with Trevor.
And that feeling … is home.
With them, I am home.
Forty-Four
Bennett
* * *
“Anything else I can do before I take off, Mr. Schoenbach?” Eulalia asks Monday night as Honor and I take our places at the dinner table. Astaire had to work late tonight, some mandatory teacher’s workshop, so it’s just the two of us.
“No. Thank you, Eulalia. We’ll see you tomorrow.” I place my napkin in my lap, feeling the watchful little gaze at the other end of the table.
Honor does the same. She’s good at that—noticing something and copying it. She’s a tiny human sponge. A mimic.
I reach for my bourbon.
She reaches for her water.
We sip.
We exchange smiles.
“You look so small all the way at the end of the table. Why don’t you take the seat next to mine?” I offer.