Page 59 of One Pucking Heart

I shrug. “It sounds weird, but when I told him why I wanted Bill, he seemed almost pleased.”

“Are you sure you met with my father? The man you’re describing, giving and happy, doesn’t add up.”

I huff out a laugh. “I’m not saying he was happy by any stretch of the word, but I just got the sense that he was pleased.”

She leans in. “So why did you need a P.I.?”

I breathe in and nerves build in my chest. “Okay. I’m not going to go into detail because, to be honest, the details are quite horrible and make me incredibly ill. But I had him look into your cousin.”

“What?” she gasps.

I raise my hands, palms out. “Hear me out. Ever since that day in your office when I saw you crumple and the brief overview you gave of the horrors experienced at the hands of your cousin, I couldn’t get it out of my head. I couldn’t imagine anyone hurting a young, sweet Elena. It made my blood boil. And I’ve realized anyone who could hurt you that way is inherently evil, and people like that are always that way. There’s no redemption for that behavior. I knew that chances were he’d hurt others. So I had Bill gather information, follow him, take surveillance footage—all of it, until we could get enough evidence for a search warrant. And we did. One of my father’s lawyer buddies from school and the top prosecuting lawyer in Michigan for these cases took the case. The warrant gave law enforcement access to his home and computers, and as I figured there would be, there was a mountain of evidence on his computer. Your cousin is sitting in a jail cell as we speak, and with the case we have on him, he will be in prison for the rest of his life.”

Tears fill Elena’s eyes, and her voice trembles. “You really did that?”

“Of course I did. He hurt someone I love, and I protect those I love. You will never have to worry about seeing him or accidentally running into him for the rest of your life. He will die in prison, which is better than he deserves.”

She cups my face in her hands. “I don’t know what I did to deserve someone like you, Beckett, but you are the sweetest, funniest, most loving, and loyal man I’ve ever met. You deserve everything you’ve ever wanted. I want you to have the world.”

“You are my world.”

Tears fall down her face. “I can never thank you enough.”

I kiss her forehead. “You don’t have to thank me. I did it because I love you, and you deserve some peace. As my wife, you need to know that I would do anything for you. I’d give up anything. I’d go anywhere.”

“I just hope I truly make you as happy as you make me.”

“I promise, you do. Please believe me.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

ELENA

I look into Beckett’s eyes, and I see nothing but the raw truth. Despite our differences, he loves me. He chooses us and the life we’ll have together. Doubts still simmer under the surface, little voices that urge me to question all the ways in which we’re different, but I can’t ignore the love we share because he’s right. If I do—I doubt I’ll ever find it again. This deep love doesn’t come around often, and I can’t lose it.

He’s a grown man, and if he says he’ll never regret us, I have to believe it. More so, I want to trust in his words because I could barely stomach a week without him. I can’t imagine a lifetime.

One of the greatest things about Beckett is his ability to love. His love is fierce and relentless. Once you’ve lived in his light, it’d be miserable to exist in the darkness without him.

But there’s still another matter to discuss, and while I think his response will be favorable, I can’t be certain. I’m expecting a lot of change, and fast.

“What is it?” Beckett holds my hands in his. “There’s something else. You still aren’t convinced, are you?” The panic in his expression grows.

I shake my head. “It’s not that.” My chin dips to my chest, and I breathe deeply before returning my gaze to his. “I’m pregnant.”

Beckett freezes. His body stiffens, and he looks at me. The only movement is the unnatural ways his eyes are blinking. I give him a minute to process my words.

“You’re pregnant?” he asks.

I nod.

“With my baby?”

“Of course.”

“You’re pregnant with my baby?”

I sigh. “Yes, Beckett. I am pregnant with your baby.”

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