“No.” He shook his head, mostly at himself, for neglecting to find the root of the problem sooner. He hadn’t realized Laura was afraid of him leaving, because no one had ever really been afraid of that before. “I’m sticking around either way, Laura. This is my home now. With you.”
Tears flooded her eyes. “And Elsa?”
“Yeah.” His own voice was a little scratchy. “And Elsa.”
Hopefully.
Laura hopped out of her seat and ran toward him around the table, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I love you.”
A knot formed in his throat. “I love you, too.”
“Can we go to the ice castle now?”
He laughed, trying to be inconspicuous about swiping at his eyes. “We’d better. It’s rude to keep princesses waiting.”
Wes was not supposed to be the nervous one.
Bethany had enough nerves for the both of them. Not to mention, he needed to be confident for his niece’s sake. He didn’t want to present some mirage of stability for the courts—he needed it to be true.
But he probably should have paid a visit to Bethany’s house prior to moving in because he was not prepared. It was like stepping into a House Beautiful centerfold. There was a plate of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies on the entry table, arranged in perfect stacks with purple flower petals serving as decoration. Candles flickered in huge glass globes from their places on shelves and her immaculate kitchen countertops.
Her carpet and furniture and goddamn near everything was pristine white.
He was moving a five-year-old into this place?
Bethany had stepped aside to let them in and was now crouched down offering Laura a cookie like some gorgeous domestic goddess, but his niece was too agog at her surroundings to reach for the perfectly rounded baked goods.
“It is an ice palace,” Laura whispered.
Bethany’s smile faltered a little and she stood, nearly fumbling the plate of cookies until Wes gripped her elbow and steadied her. “Hey.” He leaned in and kissed her mouth softly. “Everything looks amazing.”
She visibly calmed, and in turn, Wes did, too. Being able to pinpoint her insecurities and talk her out of them reassured him that they could do this.
They could not, however, keep this place sparkling clean forever.
Wes caught Laura by the back of her hoodie before she could step her dirty sneaker on the carpet. “Shoes off, kid.” He toed off his boots. “Here, look. I’ll do mine, too.”
“Is everyone hungry?” Bethany asked brightly, sailing off toward the kitchen. “I made spaghetti sauce—I just have to heat it up. I was thinking we could go check out Laura’s room first and then eat?”
Lord, the poor woman. Her heart had to be beating a thousand miles an hour. “That sounds perfect, darlin’.”
“Great.” She turned on a toe and gestured for them to follow her down the hallway. “Okay, so, it’s not decorated for a young lady just yet, Laura, but I thought we could chat and come up with your own design? Or maybe you want a certain theme . . .”
She opened the door to reveal a room one might refer to as a chamber.
More flickering candles. A fluffy cream-colored bedspread.
A mountain of beaded throw pillows.
Thick maroon drapes.
A chandelier.
“This is my room?”
Wes held his breath, only letting it out when his niece squealed in delight and cannonballed into the center of the bed. Bethany slumped against the doorjamb, her eyes closing momentarily, and without needing to think, he reached over and braided their fingers together, bringing her hand to his mouth and resting his lips on her wired pulse. Willing it to settle.
But it spiked a second later when his niece rolled over and sat up, hair in eighteen directions. “Where are you sleeping, Uncle Wes?”
Bethany shifted. “Oh, um . . .”
Laura wiggled to the edge of the bed and leapt off, dashing between Wes and Bethany to an open door directly across the hall. She pushed the door open wider, disappearing into the darkness. Wes followed, flipping on the light to find a bedroom much like Laura’s, only with a forest-green color scheme. “You’ll be right across from me!”
Bethany turned to him with a bemused look. “Yes, isn’t that awesome?”
“Guess we better ease into this,” he muttered.
“I’ll miss you tonight,” she whispered on her way out the door.
“That’s cute that you think you’ll get the chance,” Wes called after her.
As soon as Bethany was out of sight, he let out a breath and leaned back against the bedroom wall. If both females were happy, he would deem the move-in a success. He might be nursing the worry that he didn’t belong in this perfect postcard of a house—hell, he’d once spent a week in between apartments sleeping in a buddy’s van, and that had only been a goddamn year ago—but he needed to put his insecurities aside and focus on making their relationship stronger.
Having Bethany in his life was worth the self-doubt. She was worth everything. And when it came to stability, he couldn’t ask for a better living situation for his niece. So if he was feeling completely out of place and his old fears of being someone’s pit stop were starting to make their way to the forefront, he needed to suck it up and ignore them.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Bethany sat at the end of her bed slowly pulling a brush through her hair.
She’d lit the fire in her hearth for the first time this fall and she smiled into it now, the heat it exuded matching the warmth inside of her. The feel of Laura’s bedtime hug still clung to her, as did the promissory kiss Wes delivered before she’d gone upstairs to bed—and if she kept thinking about it, she wasn’t going to need the fire to stay warm.
Falling back on her bed, she let the hairbrush drop over the edge to the carpet and stay there. She’d pick it up when she darn well felt like it. These small acts of rebellion against her perfectionist nature were starting to come easier now. Though they would be a necessity now, with a child in the house. There were going to be stains and spilled food and tracked-in mud—and so what?
If she got this happiness in return? Worth it.
Worth it times a million.
Tonight after they’d eaten spaghetti and listened to stories about Laura’s day at school, Wes had helped her clean up the kitchen while his niece literally crash-landed on the couch. There had been a little lurch in her chest when the throw pillows went flying, and Laura definitely hadn’t washed the marinara sauce off her face and hands, but it was nothing a little spot cleaner couldn’t fix. And maybe it was time to think about new couches anyway! Something in a color that didn’t show off every speck of dust that landed on it.
Maybe Wes could help her pick them out.
Wow, the mere act of thinking his name made the short silk robe feel extra decadent on her skin. She’d left the lights off, casting the room in nothing but firelight. The dancing flames flickered on the walls and her exposed flesh, reminding her of hands. His hands.
As much as she loved his ritual of reading to Laura in her room every night, she couldn’t wait for him to come upstairs. Not only because she craved the confident, possessive, starving-man way he touched her, but because she wanted to talk to him. She wasn’t the only one dealing with these huge changes. In the space of a week, he’d applied to become a child’s guardian and moved in with his . . . girlfriend.