Ward didn’t press charges, but the video of me beating the shit out of him is still out there. Plus, there’s the issue that my head is a ticking time bomb, ready to explode with one more strike.
So, I try to control my temper when he opens the door to me, a cocky grin stretching across his face, even while the dark circles under his eyes tell me a different story. He’s a man spiraling out of control.
In a way, he’s a lot like Ashley.
Broken. A mess. Making one bad decision after another. Hurting the people who love him the most.
“Hey, man. How are you feeling? Sorry I didn’t come to the hospital. I’ve been dealing with this shit with Jessica taking the kids and--”
“Save it. You and me we need to talk.”
He frowns. “What’s got your balls all twisted in a knot?”
“I know about you and Ashley.”
He doesn’t flinch, just turns his back on me and goes to the fridge and pulls out a beer. “Yeah, and what do you know, Tatum?”
“That you’re Rose’s father. That you’ve known all along. That you were probably part of the plan for Ashley to kidnap Rose--”
“That’s a fucked-up accusation.” He twists the top off of his beer and tosses it in the sink. “You sure you want to go there?”
I slap the papers I’d been holding on the kitchen island and pull out a pen, holding it to him. “Just sign the goddamn papers, asshole. And you and I are done.”
He takes a slow sip of his beer, watching me, then asks, “And what am I signing?”
“Your rights to Rose.”
He snorts. “You really believe that lying little bitch? The kid isn’t mine, Tatum.”
“Then do a DNA test to prove it.”
His face goes red. “I don’t need a fucking DNA test or any of this shit you want to put on me. I’m trying to get things right between my wife and me. I’m doing the right thing and you’re wanting to throw some bastard at me, claiming she’s mine. You have me sign those papers and I’m as good as admitting it--”
“Fine. Then we go public. Force a DNA test. You can explain to Jessica that you were screwing Ashley for months, while she was at home taking care of your children.”
“You’re fucking with my life--”
“You fucked with your own life when you started cheating on your wife. You say you want to make things right, then sign the damn papers, Drew.”
His lip curls into a sneer and he snatches the pen from me, then starts flipping through the papers, scribbling his signature. When he’s done, he shoves them at me. “This makes it all go away, right? You keep this shit to yourself.”
I snort. “God, I always knew you were a prick, I just never knew how big of one.”
“Like you can judge. I’m not the only one who slept with that whore.”
I clamp my mouth over telling him that I actually never slept with her. That I’d passed out before doing the deed. Thank fucking God. One less regret I have over this whole situation.
“By the way, this shit you keep talking about is a child who deserves a hell of a lot better than you. And so do Jessica and the kids. You and me, we’re done. Stay the fuck out Aria’s and my life.”
I leave, but before I walk out the door, I hear something smash, most likely his beer bottle against a wall.
We all fuck up at times. I’ve done my share of things I’m not proud of. But I can’t forgive Drew for lying, or for the way he treated his own flesh and blood. I was right when I told him that Rose deserves better.
And I plan on being that for her.
If Aria will let me.
The loss of my career has sent my life into a bit of a tailspin. But I don’t plan on a crash landing. I’ve got enough money in savings that even without my multi-million dollars a year paycheck, Aria and I can live comfortably.
But first things first. We need to solidify that no one will ever take Rose away from us again. And then I can start thinking about how to get a ring on my girl’s finger. Before I head to the lawyers with the papers Drew signed, I make a short stop at the house that Aria and I had gone through. It’s still for sale and I take it as a sign.
Aria and I have never done things in the order they should be. First a baby, then a date, and hopefully next this house. Then I’ll give her the wedding of her dreams.
A smile stretches across my face because even in this chaos of our lives, there’s hope. As long as Aria is mine, I know nothing will ever take that away.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Aria
A few weeks later, I’m back at the studio, where Cleo and I are trying to make a revised schedule of what we want to do for the winter classes. We have Christmas music on even though it’s not even Thanksgiving yet, but she says if the coffee shops sell eggnog lattes it means we can listen to Jingle Bells.
“I think I want to take time off,” I tell her as we look over the next several months. “I want to be with Rose full time. I love teaching but --”
“I totally understand,” Cleo jumps in. “And honestly, I was thinking we could hire a few instructors.”
“Really?” I frown. “You’d be up for managing all that?”
Cleo laughs. “Look, I don’t have a boyfriend or a baby. If you haven’t noticed, the studio is kind of my life, Aria.”
“Then maybe we should get a lawyer and draw up something official. Become co-owners.”
Cleo smiles. “My dad would be super impressed.”
“Yeah?”
She nods. “I know I’m a trust fund kid who doesn’t need to work, but my dad made his fortune by pulling up his bootstraps. I think he’d be proud of me for being an entrepreneur like him.”
“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” I ask.
Cleo runs a highlighter over a page of the calendar before closing her binder. “You’ve been a little preoccupied.”
I snort. “Just a little.”
“It’s so sweet that Tatum’s parents flew in to welcome Rose to the family.” Cleo is gathering her things and pushing them in a tote. “They seem pretty amazing.”
“I just can’t believe Ashley signed the papers the moment we sent them to her.”
“So, when is that boyfriend of yours going to propose? I mean you’ve both been officially granted guardianship of Rose. Isn’t it time you officially become a family?”
I shrug. “We’ve had a lot going on, Cleo. I’m not in a rush.” And I’m not. Tatum is still coming to terms with what it means for him to leave the Chargers and is trying to figure out what he wants to do next in life. I don’t want him to feel pressured to put a ring on my finger as well. “But are you?”
“Am I what?” Cleo asks, pulling on her denim jacket.
“In a rush.” I laugh. “You seem like you’re in a hurry.”
“Well actually, I have a date.”
“A date?” My eyes widen. “Okay, clearly my drama has monopolized everything. Spill the beans, Cleo Halston. Who is it?”
“Actually, you already know him.”
“I do?”
Cleo sets her hands on my shoulders, her black bob bouncing. “Yeah. But you need to promise you won’t be mad?”
“Don’t scare me,” I say, starting to frown.
“It’s Ellis.”
I pause before saying, “As in Tatum’s brother Ellis?”
Cleo laughs. “Do you know any others?”
I shake my head, incredulous. “I guess not. But wow, Ellis, huh?” I’d wondered about his sudden decision to move to Los Angeles. I’m getting the feeling the decision wasn’t just about being closer to Tatum.
“Are you upset?”
“No. Of course not.”
“My parents would freak if they knew. They want me to wind up with a real estate mogul or something, but what can I say? The mid-western thing kinda makes me weak in the knees.”
I laugh. “I can relate, actually.”
Cleo squeals. “Gosh, I was so nervous to tell you. Promise you’re not mad?”
“If my best friend falls in love with my boyfriend’s brother it means amazing holidays, double dates, and our kids being cousins.”
Cleo laughs. “Okay, don’t run too far ahead of yourself. It’s a first date. And why don’t you work on getting engaged before you plan the rest of our lives?”
I give her a hug and then turn back to the studio that has given me so much pride over the last few years. Taking my time, knowing that Rose is with Tatum’s parents I tidy up a bit. I straighten the papers on the front desk, take out the trash, close the blinds, and lock the front door. Then I slip off my tennis shoes and put on my favorite pair of ballet slippers.
I turn off all but one of the lights in the studio, the soft darkness sweeping over me. I pull up a playlist on my phone and dance like I haven’t in so long. I move across the hardwood floor, letting my body go as the music and movements wash over me. It’s been months since I danced like this, getting lost in this safe place I created for myself so many years ago when the rest of my life became chaos. Dance was always there for me.
Gratitude spreads through my limbs as I recognize that. There’s no way I could have gotten through the trauma of what Ward did to me without my ballet slippers and a dance floor. I wish my sister would have found a safe place, too.
I’m so lost in the routine, that when the playlist ends and I reach for my phone to restart it, I’m shocked to see Tatum there, watching me in the shadows.
“What are you doing here?” I ask as he steps closer. His eyes are rimmed in red and I know before he says a word that something terrible has happened. “Is it Rose?”
He shakes his head, the echo in the empty studio amplifying the silence.
“It’s Ashley.” He pulls me to him, telling me the news. “She was found dead in a Malibu hotel room. She overdosed this afternoon, Aria.”
No. Cold fills me. God no. Please don’t let it be true.
I shake my head, tears welling up in my eyes. “No. No. No. Oh, Tatum, no,” I sob, falling to the floor, Tatum catches me like he said he would. Always.
He holds me as the truth hits me -- hard. My twin sister is dead. Rose’s biological mother is gone, and nothing will change that.
In so many ways, she has been gone for years but this is different because there is nothing that can turn back time. Nothing that can rewrite the parts of her story that brought her to this final resting place.
When the tears stop falling, Tatum holds my face in his hands. “Oh, Aria, I’m so sorry.”
I blink, knowing what I need to do. “I’m going to do a television interview,” I tell him. “With U.S. Morning Live.”
“Really?” Tatum’s eyes are written in concern.
“It’s time,” I say, knowing what this means for my privacy, my identity, my fear of the spotlight, and the truth getting out. But I’ve been quiet long enough. “Ashley can’t speak up about what Ward did to her. Did to me. But I can. I still have a voice. It’s time for me to use it.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Tatum
“I’m so proud of you,” I tell Aria, wrapping her in my arms when we’re outside in the parking lot of the US Morning Live studio.
Today was her interview, and despite a few tears that had me and the interviewer choking up, I know she nailed it. She exposed Ward and her mother. She told her story and was her sister’s voice.
We both know that there will be more calls. More interviews. And probably a lot of backlash. But today was a start. And I’ve hired the best damn lawyer to represent her.
“I’m exhausted,” she says leaning against me. “Not physically. Just emotionally.”
I gather her to me holding her against my chest. “Yeah. I get that.” I kiss the top of her head.
Cleo and Ellis are watching Rose so that we have the day to ourselves.
“You ready to go home?” I ask her, opening the car door for her.
She nods, quiet as she gets in. As we drive, I take her hand, letting the silence rest between us, knowing she probably needs some time to reflect. But as we pull up to the curb, in front of the house we’d both fallen in love with, I watch as she sits straighter and frowns. The for-sale sign is still there, but across it now reads a bright orange sticker that says SOLD.
“What are we doing here?” she asks.
“You said you wanted to go home.” I smile and get out of the car, then walk around and open her door. My heart thumps in my chest hoping this was the right decision. Praying she likes it and it’s not too soon.
“Tatum?” Her brows furrow as she looks between me and the house.
“It’s ours,” I tell her. “I bought it for us. For Rose. Shit, you’re upset,” I say when tears start forming in her eyes. “God, I’m an idiot. I should have asked you--”
She wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me. “I love it. It’s perfect.”
“You’re sure?” I wipe away the tears that run down her cheek.
“Yes. But...” She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth.
“What? Anything you want, just ask.”
“I want to marry you, Tatum,” she blurts out, her cheeks turning crimson the moment she says the words. “Sorry, I know it’s soon. And we really haven’t talked about it, but I love you. And I want to be your wife. To be a family.”
I laugh, my chest swelling.
She pulls back slightly. “You’re laughing at my proposal?”
“Yes,” I tease her. “Because I kind of had this whole thing planned out. Dinner, candlelight, the whole engagement ring in the champagne thing. You know, the whole traditional guy asks girl to be his wife.”
She chuckles. “We’ve never done anything the way it’s supposed to be done. Why start now?”
I kiss the tip of her nose. “I didn’t want to spring too much on you at once. That’s why I was waiting.” I reach into my pocket and pull out the velvet box I’ve been holding onto for the past couple weeks and the set of keys for our new home. “Figured you’d need time to adjust to one before the other. But...” I get down on one knee, and smile up at her, holding out the key. “Aria Ryan, will you move in with me?”
She laughs, her head tilting back with it. “Yes, but technically we already live together.”
“True. But this place is big enough to add to our family.” Because that’s what we are, ring or no ring, Rose and Aria are my life, My family, albeit not a traditional one, that I’d always wanted. I open the box, and she gasps when she sees the three-carat diamond ring. “Will you marry me, Aria?”
“Yes.” Her arms are around my neck and she kisses me.
“I love you so damn much.” I spin her around, kissing her back, then put the ring on her finger.
“I love you too.” She wipes her eyes. “So much.”
“You ready to take a tour of our new home?”
“Only if we can start with the master bedroom. I want to show my fiancé just how much I love him.”
I pick her up in my arms, and she lets out a small shriek of laughter as I march us towards the front door.
“What are you doing?”
“Carrying my fiancée over the threshold. That’s a thing isn’t it?”
She chuckles. “Pretty sure you’re supposed to do that after you’re married.”
I shrug and grin down at her. “You’ll be my wife soon enough.”
Epilogue I
Aria
One year later...
The castle is exactly what I always imagined. Stone walls and stained-glass windows, a candlelit hall with all the people we love most in the world.
It’s really happening. My wedding day.
“Let me fix your veil,” Cleo says, as I turn to face her. “God, you look like a movie star.”
I cringe. “Don’t say that.”
“Sorry, but girl, your childhood baggage is keeping you from seeing the truth. You’re absolutely stunning. You look like a princess.”
I look in the mirror trying to see what she sees. A young woman who ha
s seen plenty of heartache, loss, and more than her fair share of love. The last year has been a dream come true in so many ways. The engagement ring on my finger, a symbol of Tatum’s promise to me, to cherish me for all the days of his life.
Tears fill my eyes and beside me, Charlie Beckett clucks her tongue lovingly. “No crying. You’ll ruin your make-up.”
She squeezes my hand, this woman who is a princess in her own right. When Tatum first introduced us at a weekend in Nantucket at her husband’s family home, I’d been intimidated. I knew she held such a special place in my fiancé’s heart. But then she put on a playlist she’d made specifically for Tatum and me, lifted a flute of champagne to make a toast, and won me over one word at a time.
“To Aria,” she’d said. “A woman who I just met but I already know is worth her weight in gold. And to Tatum, who had enough sense to propose to her!”
If there was any tension in meeting her, it evaporated after that night. And since then we’ve crisscrossed the country time and time again, our friendship solidified for life. Now, I have her and Cleo at my side on the most important night of my life. My wedding.
“It’s time,” Shelly says, poking her head in the dressing room, sweet Rose in her arms.
“Mama!” Rose says, smiling and clapping her hands. I give my little girl a kiss before Shelly tells me to turn around so she can get a good look at me.
Shelly looks more polished than I’ve ever seen her, in a soft lilac dress, but her eyes betray her. She’s nervous and she eyes me cautiously.
“What do you think?” I ask, already knowing my answer. The wedding gown is exquisite and the fact my mother-in-law hand sewed every seam, hand stitched every bead on the bodice, and tirelessly worked to make sure it fit like a glove -- which over the last few weeks we weren't so sure about -- makes it all the more perfect.
“Oh, Aria,” Shelly says. “You look like a princess.”
Cleo and Charlie laugh. “That’s what we said.”
Game Day Baby Page 18
