Page 102 of Perfect Composition
Never in my wildest dreams did I think in the shadows of the place where I slept as a child did I ever believe I’d say these words as an adult. “Move in with me. Don’t worry about a place to live.”
The offer is impulsive, but it’s from the depths of my heart. So, I appreciate when Paige gives it due consideration. But finally, she shakes her head. “Despite the last few weeks—which I’ve treasured, please don’t ever think otherwise—we need time to adapt. All of us, including Austyn.”
“She appears fine with us.”
“Appears, Beckett. She’s dreaming of Mama and Daddy being a family. Considering she’s almost twenty years old, she needs to remember the things I taught her growing up.”
“Which were?” A vision of Paige in a long white gown has taken root in my head, and now I can’t get rid of it. And I’m wondering if I ever want to.
So it’s no surprise I likely have a ridiculous smile on my face when she informs me, “That people share all different kinds of love. That it’s their choice on how they celebrate it. And her only part of that love is to respect their choices unless she’s a part of that relationship. Then she has every damn right to demand everything from it.”
I lean down and nuzzle my nose against hers. “Don’t move an inch.”
I pull out my phone and have a very quick, very heated discussion about how I’d be heading back with Paige. “No, you’re not welcome to follow.” I hang up in his ear before I grab her hand and start pulling her toward the hole in the fence, which is how I assume she slipped in.
It is.
“Did you just ditch your security detail, Mr. Miller?” Paige teases me.
“I did.” I grab her hand and drag her to the one place we haven’t been to since I got back.
Our place.
And now, I’m kicking myself for not bringing a blanket.
But when we get there, I find there’s a blanket already spread on the ground not far from where her horse is tied up. And, much to my surprise, even her old backpack which I’d bet my penthouse has a bunch of our favorite snacks inside. “Paigey.” It’s the only thing I can manage to say.
“So, to celebrate, will you play for me, Beckett?” It’s the same sweet request that used to haunt my dreams. Only this isn’t a dream. It’s my reality.
Thank fucking God.
I swoop her into my arms and carry her over to the blanket, the same exact way I did when we were in high school. And then I make love to the only woman I ever did.
And ever will.
Hours later, wrapped in only the blanket while I wince as I hit another discordant key on the decrepit piano and sing to Paige, she murmurs, “I dreamed of this for years.”
My hands hover over the missing keys. “Of what?”
“Of you. Wondering if you’d come back, look at me, feel the same. I mean, I’m me, and well, you’re you.”
Sensing we’re treading onto sensitive ground, I feel my way carefully. “Paige, I’m still me. I just have more.”
“No, you changed the moment you spit in the eye of this town. I only feel like that’s just starting to happen.”
“I disagree.”
Exasperated, she rolls her eyes. “Beckett, you haven’t been here.”
“No, but who fought for her child to go to New York?”
“Well, of course.”
“Who was determined to become a doctor?” I counter.
“It still was…”
“And who had our child? Kept her against all odds? Raised her and loved her? You don’t think you’ve changed? And here I’m in awe of the woman you’ve become.”
