“I’m yours,” I whisper.
His fingers slip inside the waist of my leggings, and travel between my thighs until they find my wet slit. Dragging his fingertips between my seam, his thumb circles my swollen clit.
I grind against him, his fingers sliding deep inside me, coaxing me, teasing me.
He doesn’t stop, and I realize this isn’t about him. For the first time, this isn’t about a physical release for Beckham.
“Do I make you happy?” His free hand presses against the small of my back as my hips rock.
Biting my lip and squeezing my eyes, I offer a breathless, “Yes.”
“Am I enough for you?”
“God, Beckham, yes…you’re enough…”
And yet I can’t get enough of you…
Minutes later I’m unable to fight the burning friction building up below. With hips circling and rocking, I ride myself to the edge, collapsing against his chest when it’s over.
“I didn’t want to need you.” With Beckham’s face buried in my hair, his soft tone tickles my ear. “God, I fought it like hell.”
I smile though he can’t see.
His fingers slip up the back of my neck before tangling in my hair and tugging me back until our eyes meet.
“Do you remember what you told me the first time we went to Utah?” His blue eyes radiate in the afternoon sunlight. “You said one of these days I was going to meet my match, and she was going to knock me sideways.”
“I remember.”
“You’re my fucking match, Odessa. I knew right then it was going to be you,” he says. “It’s been you since the moment you flipped me off in the elevator.”
Quiet laughter fills my chest, and I rest my cheek against his steel shoulder. His arms wrap around me, pulling me into him.
My father’s words echo in my mind, “Life didn’t matter until your mother.”
“I was just existing before I met you,” I whisper, voice cracked. “You brought me to life.”
Closing my eyes, my lips find his, soaking in this moment, basking in the beauty of a moment that will define us for the rest of our lives.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
BECKHAM
The knot of my tie is crooked.
I’ve tied hundreds, thousands of ties in my day, but for some reason I can’t get this one right.
My fingers show a hint of a tremor as I tug it loose and start over again. Facing the mirror, I drape the tie around my neck and cross one end over the other.
Odessa steps out of the shower, wrapping a towel around her body and slicking her soaked hair out of her face.
“Need help?” She saunters toward me, gripping the pale pink tie and starting from the top. A minute later it’s done. Perfectly. “There.”
The white envelope rests on the bathroom counter. I’d shoved it in a drawer for weeks, not ready yet to see the results. I now know that I’ll never be ready.
“The hearing’s in an hour,” she says. “We’ve got to get going.”
Her eyes drop toward the white letter, and she pauses.
“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.”