by Hart, Hanna
Fiona began to get excited during her latest doctors visit. She was elated by the things he was saying. "Does this mean I'm getting better?" she had asked.
She knew that one doesn't just 'get better' from cardiomyopathy, but she wondered if perhaps the disease had slowed or maybe life wasn't as dire as she once thought.
But no, Dr. Thompson had said. She needed a transplant soon.
Knowing these things, Fiona couldn't drag Beckett any further into her life than was necessary.
"I think we should keep things professional," she had said in response to Beckett's revelation.
It hurt her heart to watch his elated expression fall.
He couldn't argue with her point, obviously. They were under a contract to be together for two years. What would happen if they got together for real and then broke up? Would the contract be null and void? How could they ever live under the same roof after a painful breakup?
"I completely understand," Beckett had said, and to her relief, he seemed to be genuine. He didn't push her or insist that they give it a shot. He didn't make her feel uncomfortable or like she had suddenly become his enemy because she didn't choose to be with him.
But that all changed the day of Maggs wedding.
The Davenport-Fieremonte wedding was a big to-do. It was held at Crystal Beach Resorts on a white, sprawling beach.
The wedding was inspired by the tropics. Massive palm fronds draped above the aisle like a canopy. At the end of the aisle, where the officiant and Maggs soon-to-be-husband, Zeke, were standing. There were rows and rows of light blue chairs tied with orange sashes and tall, basket-weaved plants that hosted greenery and orange and yellow flowers.
It was a beautiful scene, only to be outdone by Maggs walking down the aisle. She wore a strapless, gauzy dress perfectly suited for their theme. She had orange and yellow flowers done throughout her braided and curled hair.
"Look at her smile," Fiona whispered to Beckett as his sister walked down the aisle. "She looks so happy to see Zeke."
Beckett squeezed her hand and smiled as he watched his sister.
The ceremony was lovely, with both the bride and groom saying their personal vows. Hers were a mixture of love quotes from various literature, while his were a delightful mix of promises and funny anecdotes about their relationship.
By the time the reception came, another outdoor event in the tropical theme, it seemed like there was no shortage of people who wanted to come up and talk to Beckett.
"You guys make such a cute couple," one elderly guest said as she passed the pair.
Another woman, wearing a large, floppy hat, squeezed Beckett's arm as she went by as if she were pulling herself back to the couple. "Oh, Beckett," she breathed, nearly teary-eyed, "your uncle and I were so happy to hear about your marriage. We've heard nothing but good things!"
"See? They love us," Beckett whispered with a grin. "We belong together: everyone can see it."
"Mm," was all Fiona said, making sure to plaster a bright smile on her face.
Maybe he wasn’t so genuine about her turning him down, after all.
This thought only got stronger as the reception began later that evening.
The outdoor reception had an intense row of tables set under a massive tiki hut. Basket lanterns hung from the tiki hut, and there were orange-glass candle holders that were lit up with tea lights. The runners for the tables were ocean blue and had a bowl full of lemons and oranges, topped with orange and yellow flowers as the centerpiece.
It was stunning.
The whole event made Fiona think back to her wedding. It was a small affair. She wore a second-hand cream-colored dress, and she and Matt exchanged simple vows in his uncle's backyard. It was nice, since his yard happened to overlook a vineyard.
She remembered her dress was tight and she felt bloated and too pregnant to be comfortable or celebrating.
The whole day, all she could think of was Ruby and Beckett's little son, Michael. She wondered what he was like and how devastating it must be to lose a child. She was merely separated from Ruby, and she felt like her whole world had been ripped away. But she was sustained by the knowledge that she would see Ruby again.
Beckett didn't have that luxury with Michael.
She cocked her head as she watched him charm an older couple sitting at their table with them. He had strength like she'd never seen before.
Beckett beat himself up for having a six-month downward spiral. She could understand why he was ashamed of that period in his life, but if she were being honest, she didn't know how much better she would do if she lost her whole family in just a matter of hours.
"Mother's drunk again," Beckett whispered to Fiona.
Fiona watched Bebe from across the room as she seemed to float from guest to guest, marveling at the reception location and thanking guests for coming. She looked stone sober.
Fiona batted her hand against Beckett's shoulder and hissed, "No, she's not. Stop telling people that!"
"It's funny!" Beckett chuckled to himself and Fiona couldn't help but smile.
"Do you think Maggs and Zeke are happy?" Fiona asked before taking a sip of water from her crystal goblet.
"I can't think of anything other than taking your hand and dancing with you, to be honest," he said.
A soft jazz song played behind them, and Beckett gestured to the dancefloor. There were dozens of other couples up swaying to the music.
Beckett stood and put his hand out, waiting for Fiona to take it.
She gave him a reprimanding look, but eventually broke into a flattered grin and slipped her gloved hand into his and allowed him to lead her to the dancefloor.
"You look beautiful," Beckett whispered in her ear, sliding his hand lower down her back.
It was hard not to be taken in by Beckett. His looks were enough to win over any girl. His charisma captured her, and their connection was electric. She felt like she was floating any time he was around. It was all she could do not to kiss him right then and there, but she knew she couldn't.
"Thank you," she said bashfully.
Beckett wore a gray suit and a yellow striped necktie. He had an orange flower in his breast pocket to match with the whimsical, summer theme of the wedding. He looked handsome.
Fiona tried to dress up for the occasion but ended up in a boring floral maxi dress that she'd bought at a flea market on a summer trip to Florida the year before Ruby was born. It didn't do much for her curvy shape, but it was breezy and wedding appropriate.
"I think you should reconsider," he said playfully, resting his chin on the top of her head.
"Why's that?" she asked.
"Because you're amazing," he whispered. "And I think I could make you happy."
"You do make me happy," she admitted.
Beckett stiffened in surprise, and he tilted his head down to meet her eyes. "You make me happier than I've been in a very long time."
She nodded, taken in by him. "I like to hear that."
"Yeah?" he said.
"I think I need to hear it," she clarified. "And just so you know, you make me happier than I've been... possibly ever."
"Then what are we waiting for?" he asked with excitement as he turned their bodies to the rhythm of the music. "Fiona, this is real. This could be us, every day, you and me."
And Ruby, she thought.
Then her stomach spiraled into a sick pulsing once more as she remembered exactly what she was doing. She was sick. How could she put Beckett through this ordeal for a second time?
But then again, if they were going to together for the next two years, he would surely find out about her illness anyway. Either she would be called into the hospital for her transplant, or she would die—and what kind of a person would she be to let him come home one day to find her passed away or in the hospital for weeks, without warning him first?
"Beckett, I want you," she said with a shy, sad smile. "I want you more than I have ever wanted anything. When I see you or when we talk.
.. what am I saying? Even when I hear you say my name, I can feel that we were meant to be together."
The soft jazz played on in the background, but neither Fiona nor Beckett were moving anymore.
"Fiona, I'm going to kiss you now," he breathed.
"You can't," she whispered in protest, her eyes going wide.
He cupped her cheek in his palm, and she could feel his warm hand conforming to the curve of her face.
"You can't say something like that and expect me not to kiss you, sunshine," he breathed.
Fiona couldn't argue. She physically couldn't make herself do it. The temptation of his affection was too powerful. She closed her eyes and waited, her heart thumping hard against her chest.
Beckett's hand shook as he leaned in and pressed his lips against hers. He pulled back, and they locked eyes as he broke the kiss. She watched him, feeling serious and stern, but Beckett's features erupted into a wide, pleased smile. To her surprise, he went right back in for more.
His mouth was warm and inviting, and she couldn't help the ease in which their lips danced together.
The chemistry was explosive and send a whirlwind of butterflies through her stomach.
She was kissing Beckett. It was so wrong, but she couldn't stop.
The song ended, and Fiona smiled shyly at those who shared the dance floor with them. Those who had watched them kiss.
She knew this didn’t seem wrong to any onlookers. Of course, it didn’t. As far as everyone else knew, she and Beckett were married. Kissing in public was just a sign that they were still fiery newlyweds.
But the guilt in her stomach wouldn’t calm down.
She wanted to be with Beckett, but she couldn’t lie to him or lead him on. She couldn’t let him get in any deeper than he already was.
Fiona had to tell him the truth.
“Beckett, I have to tell you something,” she said evenly, firmly, pushing away from him.
“Good,” he grinned. “I have something to tell you, as well.”
Fiona inhaled sharply.
“I think we should go somewhere private,” she said, and Beckett nodded in agreement.
He took her by the hand and led her down the beach, away from the string lights, tiki torches, and pleasant jazz.
With the reception in the distance, Fiona could mostly only hear the faint music mixed with the roar of the waves coming up on the surf.
Beckett brought her to a staff boathouse and pulled her around the side so that they were finally alone.
"Let's talk," she said, and Beckett nodded.
"Let's," he agreed wryly and pressed her up against the side of the boat house's white thatched wall.
Fiona felt the heat of her body against his. He traced a finger along her jawline and tilted her chin upward to get a better view of her angled face and the way the moonlight highlighted the freckles along her nose.
"Beckett," Fiona said in quiet protest. She swallowed audibly, and he shook his head before pressing his cold lips against hers.
He drew a hand into her hair and eased the back of her head closer to his mouth until she could feel his tongue shyly brushing up against hers.
"Beckett," she repeated, pulling away from him. "We shouldn't."
“You taste so good,” he whispered and went back to kissing her, moving his mouth from her lips and down to her neck.
“I have to tell you something,” she whispered, craning her neck almost absent-mindedly to give him easier access.
Beckett pulled away and held her face in his hands, smiling and looking as full of joy as she had ever seen him.
“So do I,” he said, his perfect eyes darting back and forth from hers. “I love you.”
Fiona felt her heart speed up and pressed her palms flat against the boathouse behind her. She wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or mortified at his timing.
She loved him, too. She did. It was impossible to deny.
But she couldn’t believe his love for her.
He didn’t love her. How could he possibly, when he didn’t know Ruby? As far as Fiona was concerned, Ruby was her heart and soul. To know and love Fiona meant to know and love Ruby.
“I’m in love with you,” Beckett repeated, and Fiona bit her lip.
“I have a daughter, named Ruby,” she said.
She had blurted the words out so quickly that she wasn’t sure if Beckett had even heard her. As his expression wrinkled from a soft and playful demeanor to a hurt confusion, she knew he’d heard her just fine.
Chapter Fourteen
Beckett
Beckett felt like he just had the wind knocked out of him.
What had she just said... a child? Ruby?
"What?" Beckett asked lowly, wincing as though he had just taken a punch to the gut.
"A little girl," Fiona swallowed nervously; she was shaking. "She's thirteen months."
Thirteen months?
Beckett's chest felt emptied. It was like all the air left his body. Like someone had come in with a scalpel and pulled out everything inside him that weighed him down.
Fiona had a daughter.
"Where is she, then?" he asked, trying not to yell. He made it his aim to keep his voice steady and controlled. "Why isn't she here, if she's so young?"
"Back in Savannah," she said, but offered no further explanation.
"Mm-hm," he snipped. "Why, Fiona? Why did you lie to me?"
"I'm so sorry, Beckett. It's... it's complicated," she stammered. "And I'm going to try and explain it to you, but for now, I just need you to know that I never thought I was going to get that job! I said I didn't have Ruby because you were so dead-set on the applicant not having a child and—"
"Yes!" he shouted. "Yes! I was dead-set against that, and you lied to me anyway! How could you do that?"
"I had to do it for my daughter!" she shouted back. "Surely, as a father, you can understand that."
Beckett set his jaw, and his eyes went wide.
He hated that she was using what he'd shared with her against him now. That she would dare use his son as a rationalization for lying to him for over a month.
Ruby...
Watching the word bounce off of Fiona's lips made him sick to his stomach. She said the name with such ease that Beckett couldn't pretend it wasn't true. There was a Ruby. Fiona did have a child. Knowing this caused a whole new set of emotions to surge through his entire body like an anger and a pain that made him want to cry out.
Why did she have to lie?
"Beckett, look at me," Fiona pleaded, setting a trembling hand on his face. "I'm sorry."
Beckett pulled away. The last thing he could fathom doing was looking at her. "We should go," he said evenly, looking past Fiona at the rolling water in the distance.
"I'll get my purse," she said.
"We should go back to the wedding, I mean," he said stubbornly, staring at the tiki torches down the beach. He could hear the music going louder then. It must have been getting later. The more guests left, the freer Maggs would feel to blare the music and switch from unoffensive instrumentals to whatever hip-hop melodies she had lined up for the late-night partying that would proceed well into the early morning hours.
"It's my sister’s wedding," he reiterated. "I can't just leave. I can call you an Uber if you want to go home, but I have to stay."
"No, I mean... I'll stay too, then," she said softly, watching him carefully.
"Fine, let's go," he said.
"But I think we should talk about this," Fiona insisted, not leaving her post against the boathouse.
"We'll talk later," he said in a dry, clean tone. "I don't want to be that couple who fights at a wedding. It's tacky."
Fiona nodded. "Okay."
They went back to the wedding celebration and sat down at the overdone, ridiculously girly table settings. He stared down at the almost painfully fuchsia runner and then over to his wine glass.
He signaled for a waiter to fill the glass, believing that he would take an eager sip, b
ut instead, he just stared.
The rest of the night went on in a blur of movements: dancing, people coming up to the table to express their congratulations for his sister and for his own nuptials.
Fiona, thankfully, was present enough to put on a facade with him of a newly married, happy couple.
Inside, he was burning. He couldn't believe that a night which had started out with such promise had turned into another disappointment.
He was furious, but a part of him also felt heartbroken.
He didn't want children. He had Michael, and that was enough. A child was too much to lose—he knew this well. Which is why he knew, despite the anger he felt toward Fiona right now, he would have no choice but to fly Ruby to Nani Makai and have her stay with them for the remainder of the two-year contract.
As angry as it made him, he couldn’t separate a parent and child. He knew what that felt like and he wouldn’t do it to Fiona.
Unless he could get out of their contract altogether.
He wondered how plausible, how legal it would be for him to cancel their agreement. The papers were rock solid he knew, but could he claim fraud as a reason for divorce?
Either way, his parents would not be happy about this.
The car ride back was agonizingly quiet. Beckett kept the Jeep's windows down the whole time, letting the cool night air breeze through the vehicle in an attempt to keep himself alert.
The two of them didn't speak. He thought Fiona might try and explain herself, but she seemed to know better at the moment. Beckett was in no mood to communicate.
Fiona was a liar, and that was all there was to it.
Her excuse for lying was crystal clear: she wanted the money.
She wanted money enough to separate herself from her daughter, which in itself disgusted him.
Where Fiona would give up two years with her daughter for money, Beckett would have given all the money in the world to get Michael back for two years.
