“Beck, do you want to open it?”
My hand cups the back of my neck, my teeth raking my lower lip. “Thinking about it.”
“No matter what it says in there, everything’s going to work out. You have to believe that.”
Sucking in a hard breath I grab the envelope and rip it open before I have a chance to talk myself out of it. Odessa watches, barely breathing, as my eyes scan the letter.
I don’t read the whole thing. I don’t have to. The words “excluded” and “zero probability” are in bold.
My knees threaten to buckle, my heart hammering in my chest. The bathroom is hot. Spinning.
“Beckham…” Odessa rushes to me, slipping her arms under mine. “It’s okay. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”
I push her away, gripping the edge of the bathroom counter until I can catch my breath.
“Want me to get Sadie?” Odessa places a hand on my shoulder.
“I need a minute, okay?”
Her hand falls, but she hasn’t left. “You are her father, Beckham. It doesn’t matter what the test says. You’re the one who stepped in when she had no one else. You were there since the moment she took her first breath, and you haven’t left her side once.”
Questions silently ricochet. If I’m not her father, who is? What if Eva changes her mind? What if the judge decides to place her in foster care?
An unexpected calm washes over me. I have to be strong. I have to fight. There’s no other choice.
If not for me, then for my daughter.
EPILOGUE
ODESSA
2 years later…
“Look at the monkeys, Sadie!”
My mom points toward an enclosure filled with orangutans and Sadie squeals, her dark pigtails bopping as she runs. The Central Park Zoo is extra sparse today, and it’s a balmy seventy-five degrees. Public schools are back in session so that means we almost have the whole place to ourselves.
I push her empty stroller, a handful of steps behind Beckham. A month into my third trimester, it’s getting a little harder to keep up with everyone.
Beck turns around, “You doing okay?”
With one hand cupping my bulbous belly I smile and nod. “She’s kicking extra hard today.”
“It’s the apple juice you drank this morning,” Mom calls back. “All that sugar.”
Sadie scampers up to the railing by the orangutans and Beckham comes up behind, scooping her up and depositing her on his shoulders so she can see. He’s a good dad, and he doesn’t give himself nearly enough credit.
Beckham holds her by the knees, ensuring she won’t fall off his shoulders should she decide to get wiggly. At times, he’s overly protective of her, but I can’t blame him. In the back of his mind, he’s still terrified something’s going to happen to her. Something beyond his control.
A powerless Beckham is a dangerous Beckham, despite the fact that he’s softened just a tad over the last two years.
I park the stroller and waddle toward them. Mom is reading off the nearby plaque, telling Sadie what orangutans eat and all about their native habitats. Dad would’ve loved to be here, but I know he’s here in spirit.
“You excited for tomorrow?” Beckham crouches down to ask.
I glance up at a grinning Sadie and nod. Tomorrow she becomes my daughter. Legally. Beckham and I married eight months ago in a civil ceremony. My parents were here, and my siblings, and his best friend, Xavier. Dane and Bellamy came too. After the ceremony, we had a private dinner at one of the swankiest restaurants in the city and set off for an Italian honeymoon.
Leaving Sadie for the first time was hard, but knowing she was with my mom made it easier to stomach.
“Can’t wait.” I hook my hand into his elbow.
“Mama!” Sadie points to one of the monkeys swinging from a makeshift branch. “Look!”
“I see that,” I say, adding extra excitement in my tone. I’ll never get tired of seeing the world through her eyes.
Almost two years ago to the day, a family court judge agreed that Sadie could stay with Beckham and that he could start the process to formally adopt her. Every so often we expect Eva to show up out of nowhere, demanding to see her and declaring she had a change of heart, but the last we knew, Eva had moved out of the city and back to Argentina when she met her match in some Chilean doctor.
When Eva relinquished her rights to Sadie, she went on record as saying Sadie’s father was an anonymous sperm donor, even going so far as to provide the donor number, which we matched up with a private, sperm donor registry based out of upstate New York.
“I’m ready for it to be official,” I say. “Can’t help but feel she was always supposed to be mine.”
Beckham lifts Sadie from his shoulders, placing her gently on the ground until she bolts off toward my mom. Turning to me, he takes my hand and gives it a good squeeze.
“And you,” I say. “You were always supposed to be mine too.”
“I didn’t stand a chance,” he says, leaning to gift me with a sweet kiss.
“Okay, I guess Sadie wants to see the zebras next,” Mom calls.
Beckham pushes the empty stroller, keeping pace with me as Mom holds Sadie’s hand up ahead.
“What are you thinking about?” I ask. “Awful quiet today.”
He offers a gentle smile, lips closed tight. “Just thinking that it doesn’t get any better than this.”
I thread my fingers through his, pressing my cheek against his arm as we stroll.
“This,” he says. “This is what I live for.”
THE END
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
AMAZON TOP 100 BESTSELLING AUTHOR Winter Renshaw recently celebrated her third 29th birthday. By day, she wrangles kids and dogs, and by night, she wrangles words. She loves peonies, lipstick, and balmy summer days. Chips and salsa are her jam, and so is cruising down the highway with the windows down and the air blasting while 80s rock blares from the speakers of her Mom-UV.
She would describe her writing style as sexy, conflicted, and laced with heart. Her heroes are always alpha and her heroines are always smart and independent. HEA guaranteed.
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Page ahead for a preview of BITTER RIVALS! A romance novella coming out November 9th in the POSSESS Anthology! It features Beckham’s best friend, Xavier Fox, and his lost love and biggest rival, Magnolia Grantham!
EXCERPT of BITTER RIVALS – RELEASING 11.9.2015!
CHAPTER ONE
MAGNOLIA GRANTHAM
Shoes.
There are men’s shoes by the front door.
I pull the key from the door of my boss’ Montauk seaside home and crouch to examine a set of tanned leather loafers that shine like the day they were purchased.
“Hello?” My voice echoes through the two-story foyer. The call bounces off the shiplap walls and lands on the wall of windows overlooking the water.
No answer.
I pad lightly toward the kitchen. A tablet and laptop are plugged in and charging, and a breeze carrying sea salt drifts through an open window. The July midday sun blankets the day with warmth and light against the sandy dunes, and all I want after a three-hour Jitney ride is to change into something worthy of summer and dip my toes into the sand of my boss’ private beach.