A damn good one, too.
“We’ll find you one.” Wyatt’s reply is instantaneous. It makes my heart squeeze.We.That word. That word that once might’ve made me pick a fight with him, but now fills me with comfort. Because while Andrew has never been in my corner, never in Brinley’s corner, Wyattis.
When my cries snuff out completely, Wyatt stands up with me still in his arms, nuzzled against his chest. We make it to my bedroom, and when he turns to leave, I reach out to catch his hand. I don’t know what makes me say my next words—whether it’s the kindness from the bathroom or for my own selfish reasons, but I whisper, “Will you stay with me? Just for tonight?”
“Yeah, Winnie. I’ll stay with you.”
And for some reason, the way he says it, makes me think he’s not just talking about tonight.
Chapter Fourteen
WYATT
It’s a new day. A new day means a new chance to do better. Tobebetter. To turn the tide in this rocky road called life. That’s what my father used to preach to me.
I’m doing everything in my power to convince myself that those words are true, but I wish he could be here to tell me what I’m supposed to do when that road is on fire, and not even the best can douse the flames.
Vivienne sits beside Whitney on the couch, a laptop propped open on the coffee table before them. They’ve been doing research on Andrew and on any rights he may or may not have. It’s been hours of shifting through the subpoena Whitney got last night, and not a minute of it has done anything to ease the tension lining her face and shoulders. I’m so enraptured with looking at her, and in my own thoughts that I only catch the tail end of their conversation. “—is saying I’m unfit. That without a proper home and income after the fire, I can’t take care of Brinley.”
“That’s bullshit.” Vivienne’s anger is palpable. I can’t help but agree. Whitney is the last mom on earth that could be labeled as unfit. Whitney just nods in response. Because while Vivienne’sanger is fresh, her sister’s feelings have dwindled to embers and is more centered around a solution.
“How exactly can he do this, though?” Vivienne adds, standing from the couch and running an anxious hand over her ponytail. “He hasn’t been involved in either of their lives for well over a year.”
“He’s also saying I never told him I was pregnant. That he had no idea.”
And he’s not just asking for 50/50 custody, either. Or even just visitation rights. He wantsfullcustody, with little to no visitation allowed on Whitney’s end.
“Right, and an environment where her father is cheating on his wife is any better?” Vivienne hisses the words, reminding Whitney of the trauma she faced with Andrew. Hehadcheated on her, more than once.
It’s rather ironic that he recently got married, andnowwants custody of a child from the woman he refused to support in the first place. If it was me, ifIwas Brinley’s father, I would have fought tooth and nail to be in their lives. Nothing would have stopped me from being present. And nothing sure as hell would lead me to cheat on someone like Whitney.
The girls fall into silence, Vivienne muttering a ‘sorry’ and plopping back down on the couch next to Whitney. I watch her, fury gripping a hand around my heart as her eyes begin to well with tears for the umpteenth time. “I can’t afford the type of lawyers he can afford.” Her words come out in a whisper.
I hate how true that is. That I can’t even offer her words of comfort in a moment like this.
I’ve never felt such rage before. It’s consuming me entirely. I didn’t sleep a wink last night. Whitney had fallen asleep on my chest, and her touch alone made it hard to concentrate on something as useless as sleep. The majority of my time in Whitney’s bed consisted of googling Andrew Millers. He is aneurosurgeon. But not just any neurosurgeon, he’s one of the best in this region.
When Whitney said he came from a wealthy family, that was an understatement. The Millers are practically royalty in the medical field. His family owns the hospital where he works. But it doesn’t stop there—they’re owners to a multi-hospital empire spanning across various states. His father is the CEO of their private healthcare group. His mother retired with more awards than I can count on my two hands.
I wasn’t fortunate enough to find a home address.
God help him when I do.
Vivienne abruptly stands again, making her way to the front door. “I know someone from college that could help. She owes me one, so maybe she can take you on pro bono. Let me see if I can get in touch with her.”
Whitney doesn’t have a chance to answer her sister before she’s out the door and gone, phone tucked between her ear and shoulder. That leaves just us in the living room, tension and words we don’t know how to say hanging in the air. Brinley is with my mom, and Benji is down at Wesley’s.
Silence settles over me, thick and oppressive, until my brain does the unthinkable. My lips are parting and I’m voicing this newfound plan before I can even fully think it through. “Marry me,” I mutter.
“What?” Whitney blurts the question out with a laugh. Like I’ve just asked her to commit a felony. I guess it’s not far off. I push off the window I’ve been leaning against in the living room, and drop to my knees before her.
“Marry me.” I repeat, forcing myself to look into her green-flecked eyes. She jolts away, jumping from the couch.
“Okay, you’ve officially lost it, Conway.” she speaks, backing away from me and toward the kitchen.
“Just until you get custody.” I rush out, following her. Desperation creeps up my spine. “Until you get back on your feet.”
“Do you even hear yourself right now?” She brushes me off, pulling a glass down from the cabinet and running it under the faucet. I reach around her, turning the sink off and setting the glass down. But she doesn’t stop running her mouth, obviously irritated and ready to pick a fight.“Us?Married? Seriously, say that again and really think about it, Wyatt.”
