Page 129 of The Logic of Loyalty

“No, Daddy. No.” Ruby smacks me in the nose when she’s suddenly lifted away. “Ana Beb!”

“Hey, little Rubester!” Bethany tickles her when her little one joins the foray, screaming at the top of her lungs.

Her husband follows quickly behind and scoops their trouble-maker into his arms. “Daddy’s got you, little princess.”

“Jesus, it’s you too?”

“Dad, come on! Come on!” Jacob pulls me again, but with the reinforcements, I’m free to make my escape.

“Are you all staying for dinner?”

They look at each other and smirk.

“We’re staying, you’re leaving.” Bethany grins, pushing me with my son. “Have fun!”

“What?” I sound as confused as I feel.

“Dad!” Jacob’s impatient shout finally makes me give in.

“Fine! I’m going.” I laugh as he pushes me all the way out the door and onto the porch, where he bounds down to stand by his smoke show of a mother. “Damn, baby. You look delicious.”

“Dad.”

“Sorry, sorry. I’m here.” I take my first step toward Paige, ready to wrap her up in my arms, only to freeze in place when I catch sight of what’s behind her. “Holy Fucking Shit.” There is a car. Not just any car, but a very familiar, very old car I know I’ve seen before.

“Paige?” I look to her for an answer.

“Surprise.” She meets me at the steps and carefully takes my arm. “It took me longer than I wanted it to, but the second we won that suit against your dad, I contacted Lyle Stewart, who gave me the name of the first buyer.” She rolls her eyes and pulls me forward. “Well, that buyer moved, so I asked the homeowner if they knew anything, but they didn’t, obviously.” She opens the driver’s door. “And with the twins, I didn’t quite have as much time as⁠—”

“Wait, wait. Rewind. The—” My voice catches, and I have to swallow the lump in my throat. “You found the car that⁠—”

She squeezes my arm. “This is the same ’69 Camaro you sold so you could take care of your family.”

Jacob hugs me, murmuring a quiet, “Love you, Dad. Have fun.” Then he scampers into the house. I hear hushed whispers through the door behind me, but I can’t bring myself to look. I’m shocked, completely and utterly flabbergasted at the vision in front of me.

“This is not quite the same car—” It’s pristine. Unpainted, but the lines are clean, and there’s no sign of rust or ruin anywhere.

“Well … So the buyer, when I found him, didn’t want to sell because he was getting ready to paint it after all this careful restoration.” She rubs her hand over the plain, sanded roof. “But once I started to tell him about what you did, his eyes got all wide, like he was shocked.” She snickers. “Then he was all ’Trevor Whitaker? Well, hell. I agreed all those years ago I’d sell it back. Can’t help but wish the old man was wrong about it all.’”

“So Lyle⁠—”

“I believe that he told our story and only agreed to sell it if they resold it back to us.”

“That’s—I can’t—You didn’t have to⁠—”

She shakes her head. “I know I didn’t have to, and it cost us a pretty penny to buy it back. He was not happy and spent a lot of money over the years on making it as authentic or originally refurnished? Restored?”

“Restored.” I run my hand over the smoothed-out edges. “So the reason it looks patched is because he found authentic Camaro parts.” Holy shit.

Paige beams, then pauses. Biting her lip, she asks, “Are you upset?” Her brow furrows, and she looks away from me. “I know part of the fun of buying an old car is refurbishing, er, restoring it⁠—”

“Upset?” I pick her up to spin her in the air. I can’t stop the incredulous laughter from spilling. I stop and clutch her tighter against my racing heart. “Baby, this is incredible.”

“Good, because it cost more than all of our other vehicles combined,” she mumbles into my chest. I don’t even care.

“You’re the best part of my life.”

“I know. Now, take me on a date.” Paige pulls away from me, her little dress twirling with her as she dances to the other side of the car. “Let’s go. I’m hungry.”