Page 186 of Perfect Satisfaction

“Exactly”

I’m snickering when Angie continues, “Wrote smack about Leanne running a charity event in memory of her sister. Now, with the baby here, Becks said there’s no way he can perform.”

I immediately think about how I will recant what I published this morning. “Shit.”

“I’ll call Brendan,” Sula immediately volunteers. “He’ll know who can step up. You know he’ll fix this for Lee.”

“I’d hoped. Becks said he wants him to read an announcement about the baby—”

“Including the name?” I yelp.

“No. They know what they’re naming him, but Becks won’t share until after the show.”

“So what? We just feed Becks’s ego even more by calling him Baby Becks? Are we supposed to send temporary tattoos as baby gifts?” Sula demands outrageously.

Angie dissolves into laughter. “God, I can picture Paige whipping out all the reasons this isn’t good for a newborn.”

I relax back against the mountain of pillows and pull Sula to lie against me, absorbing the sound of her voice, realizing every day she does so, my world is brighter for her in it.

A chill runs down my back as a childhood conversation with Gramps comes to mind.

“I’m not certain I want to find a love like that.”

Obviously, I was a complete idiot. Thank God someone heard what my heart truly was praying for.

Love.

“Hey, Arek?” Angie pulls me from the thoughts of the many ways I plan on taking my wife. “Leanne had a huge grin on her face in the waiting room when she mentioned an envelope you couriered over to her before she met us at Paige and Beckett’s.”

Angie’s frankly probing.

Sula lifts her face and it’s glowing. I touch my lips against hers before admitting to them both, “It was a check.”

“A check? For what?”

“For her charity.”

Angie sucks in a breath. “For how much?”

“A million dollars.”

Even as Angie screeches, Sula’s smile lures me into kissing her, which I do with great pleasure.

When the “Counting Sheep”—as Sula has taken to calling her father’s attorneys—saw I did what they asked and posted the letter written to Sula from her father on StellaNova, West Moore’s entire estate immediately unsealed. There’s no question any longer about the security of MSW. Nor is there any wonder about who Brendan, JB, and Sula are to each other.

And who I am to my wife.

West Moore closed all the loopholes rather tidily, I think with reluctant admiration, despite the lingering fury I have over the decades he put Sula, JB, and Brendan through hell.

The “Sheep” then returned to my life. Despite Carys doing her damnedest to tell them to shove their money in a deep grave with West Moore, I was regifted the original one-hundred and fifty million to “do with as you so desire. No strings attached, Mr. Ronan.” What I decided to do was to donate to causes that healed some of the wounds I inadvertently opened.

Such as assistance for survivors of sexual assault.

Support for single parents without resources.

Or—in the case of Leanne Miles—a charity in honor of her sister.Maybe this makes up for me being a dick and taking that photo, Lee.I muse.

Angie is stammering. “Did you two plan this? I mean... she was so calm. She just handed the envelope to Carys and told her she might want it later.”