It’s midnight, and I’m on my third glass of wine.
A good one, too. One of those bottles Miller picked up from that fancy winery an hour outside of town, where the owners wear linen shirts and talk about tannins like it means something. I don’t know what the hell a tannin is, but I know this wine is smooth and warm and doing a damn good job of numbing the chaos in my head.
Miller Ashford is perched on my couch, draped in designer like she was born in it. A tailored blazer over some effortlessly chic top, dress pants that probably cost more than my mortgage, and heels sharp enough to stab someone. Her short dark hair is sleek and precise, cut just above her shoulders with intentional perfection. I’ve never seen this woman in sweatpants. I’m not convinced she even owns any.
She’s been my best friend since high school, one of the only people who can read my moods before I even know I’m having one.
I groan, pressing my glass to my forehead. “What the hell am I going to do?”
Miller tilts her head, her green eyes flashing with amusement. “You’ve got yourself in a pickle, that’s for sure.”
“Well, no shit.”
She laughs, nudging my foot with hers. “Hey, I’m just here for moralsupport and legal expertise. Not miracles.”
I sigh, leaning back into the couch, staring at the ceiling.
Miller is one of the best lawyers in all of Summit Springs. Family law. She’s the one people call when marriages implode, when custody battles get ugly, when there’s more at stake than just who gets the house and the dog. She’s seen it all.
I rub a hand down my face. “What if he tries to take custody or something?”
Miller takes a slow sip of her wine, considering. “Depends. Legally speaking, he’d have to prove that you’re unfit in some way. That Hudson’s safety or well-being is in jeopardy. And, considering you run a successful business, have provided for him his entire life, and have built a stable home—” She gestures around the living room. “—that’s not going to happen.”
I exhale, letting my eyes drift around the house. It’s not big, but it’s mine. A modest two-bedroom, two-bathroom home with a small backyard and a kitchen that’s just big enough for Hudson to sit at the counter while I cook dinner. It’s a step up from the one-bedroom apartment I had when he was born, the one with thin walls, a leaky faucet, hardly any hot water and neighbors who fought so loudly I learned their entire relationship history through the drywall.
It’s taken me years to get here. Years of saving, years of working, years of proving to myself—and to everyone else—that I could do this.
And now Boone Wilding is back.
I close my eyes, take another sip of wine.
I’m royally fucked.
I sigh, tipping my head back against the couch. “What are the odds of him even having to find out?”
Miller levels me with a look, her eyes narrowing like she can’t believe I just asked that.
I blink at her. “What?”
She sets her wine down on the coffee table, crossing her arms. “Lark.”
I throw my hands up. “His family never comes out this way. That’sexactly why they don’t know about Hudson yet. It’s too far from the ranch. They’ve got no reason to be in town unless they have to be.”
She squints at me. “You’re telling me no one’s figured out who Hudson’s dad is? Not a single Wilding? Not one nosy neighbor in a town with, what, ten people and a gossip chain faster than the Wi-Fi?”
“No,” I say, pressing my palms against my knees. “I told Alice when I found out and made her promise not to tell. She kept her word. And after that…I just stopped talking about it.”
Miller gives me a look. “He looksexactlylike Boone.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah. I’m aware.”
“I mean, come on. The curls? The eyes? The freaky obsession with baseball? That kid is pure Wilding.”
I sit back against the couch and rub my thumb along the rim of my glass. “People asked questions at first. Especially when he was a baby. But I kept the story simple—I said Boone and I broke up right after graduation, and that I dated someone else that summer. Just a short fling. Said he moved out of state before Hudson was born. I let people assume whatever they wanted after that.”
Miller stares. “That’s it?”
I nod. “That’s it. Most people didn’t push. I think they could tell I didn’t want to talk about it.”
