Keeping You Page 2

  She had stayed at camp; Nash had been sent away. Her daddy had made Nash feel like trash, but, out of respect for Daddy’s position on the Arts Council, everyone had pretended that Aria had never broken the rules in the first place. Nash had paid the consequences, while Aria walked away scot-free, and Nash hadn’t heard a word from her for six weeks.

  She shouldn’t have been surprised when he greeted her with narrowed eyes and a sarcastic, “Well, if it isn’t the Little Princess.”

  But she was.

  Surprised, and hurt.

  “Nash?” she’d squeaked, sounding about ten years old. “Can we talk?”

  “I don’t think so,” Nash said. “Wouldn’t want to piss off your daddy, Princess. Besides, you’re too good to hang out with white trash, remember? Might get those freakishly long fingers of yours dirty.”

  His friends laughed; Nash smiled a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

  “How could I forget?” she asked, covering her hurt with a bitchy sneer. “I guess I had to get close enough to smell the cheap detergent.”

  Nash flinched, but barely, just enough for Aria to see it and feel bad for a second before he said, “I’m poor, but at least I’m not a spoiled brat. Or a liar.”

  Aria wanted to scream that she wasn’t a liar, that what they had shared meant so much to her, and that all she wanted was for him to smile at her the way he used to and be the sweet, wonderful, sexy Nash she’d known at camp before everything went wrong.

  But he wasn’t that person anymore, and Aria wasn’t the type to take abuse without fighting back.

  For the next three years—while Aria finished high school, and Nash graduated and started working construction with his uncle—Aria and Nash were firmly committed to exchanging hateful words every time their paths crossed. Which, in a town the size of Summerville, was more often than either one of them would have liked.

  By the time Aria flew to France to study to be a pastry chef the summer before she turned nineteen, she could barely remember feeling anything for Nash except contempt. She had forgotten the way Nash had knocked her off her feet when she was just fifteen, and refused to admit, even to herself, that no one had made her feel so consumed, or treasured, ever since.

  She forgot she’d ever dreamed of a future with Nash…until the night she was forced to remember.

  Chapter One

  Twelve Years Later

  “Ms. Aria March?” The man at the door was dressed in a nice white polo shirt and khakis. He was reasonably attractive, but Aria couldn’t remember meeting him before, and the way he’d said her name wasn’t exactly friendly, more…determined.

  “Yes?” She hitched Felicity higher on her hip, wondering if she should have left the baby in the backyard with the rest of the family.

  They were having a barbeque to celebrate her sister, Lark’s, engagement and there were plenty of willing hands ready to hold Felicity. But the baby had been clingy lately. And whiny. And not inclined to go to anyone but her mama without a fuss.

  They were both tired and fussy. Neither of them had slept through the night since Felicity was born, and eleven months was a long time to go without a full night’s sleep.

  Later, Aria blamed the lack of rest for her difficulty connecting the dots when the man on the steps held out an envelope and said,

  “You’ve been served, ma’am.”

  “Served?” Aria blinked, staring at the manila envelope for a long beat before reaching out to take it. “What? Why?”

  “It’s all there, ma’am,” the man said, backing down the walk at a swift pace, heading for a beige Volvo idling at the curb, poised for a quick getaway.

  Aria blinked again. This had to be the weirdest special delivery in the history of special deliveries.

  “What’s all there? What is this?” Aria called after him, lowering her voice when Felicity began to chant—

  “No, no, no, no, no,” at the top of her lungs.

  Felicity knew three words: “No,” “mama,” and “deer.” The last thanks to her grandpa’s twisted fascination with taking his only granddaughter down to the basement to see his vast collection of mounted deer heads.

  Which Felicity loved. For some inexplicable reason.

  “Oh, hush,” Aria whispered, kissing the baby’s forehead half a dozen times, until Felicity’s chant became a yawn and she leaned in to put her cheek on Aria’s chest.

  Aria smiled. She might be sleep deprived, exhausted, overworked, strapped for cash, and a reluctant single mom, but she had never been more in love with anything or anyone than she was her daughter. Felicity was her world, and the major reason she was still able to work up a smile most days despite the fact that Felicity’s dad couldn’t be bothered to send money for diapers or baby food, let alone come see his daughter the way he’d promised to do when Aria left their house in Nashville to move back in with her parents in Summerville, Georgia.

  But then, Liam was probably still busy. With Carrie, or Sherry, or Char, or whatever the heck his latest conquest’s name was.

  Aria had done her best to forget their names, all their names, every girl Liam had slept with in the three years they were together. She didn’t want to think about Liam rolling around in bed with other women while putting off their wedding again and again, until Aria ended up pregnant and giving birth to their baby outside of marriage.

  If her parents knew…

  The thought made her shiver as she closed the door against the August heat, and moved back into the air-conditioned house to find a place to put Felicity down before opening the mysterious letter.

  If her parents knew she and Liam had never been married, they would blow their combined, conservative, old-fashioned lids. It would be a family tragedy and Aria and Felicity would never hear the end of it, either one of them.

  Aria didn’t want her daughter to grow up feeling like there was something “not good enough” about her birth—at least in the eyes of her grandparents—and so, Aria had lied and told her parents that she and Liam had eloped a year before they split.

  It was easier that way, and it wasn’t like anyone was going to check up on her. Liam hadn’t been showing up to visit Felicity and, even if he did, none of her family would bother asking for his side of the story. Her family had always hated Liam. She’d known that from the beginning, even though Mom and Dad were civil and Lark and Melody did their best to hide their lack of enthusiasm for her Brit boyfriend.

  Of course, in the end, her family had been right about her record-producer ex. They had better creep-dar than she did—though Aria would wager hers was a lot better now, after everything her lying, cheating, smarmy ex had put her through.

  Had put her through…

  Served.

  Oh god, oh no.

  Aria shivered again, a horrible suspicion creeping up her back like a spider wearing spurs.

  She put Felicity down on the carpet near the couch, where the baby promptly pulled herself up to a standing position to track her way back and forth along the length of it, practicing her domination of the art of walking before twelve months.

  Usually the sight of Felicity’s determined little face made Aria laugh, but not tonight.

  She tore into the letter, her heart beating in her stomach, her lungs popping up to lodge somewhere in her throat. By the time she read through to the last page, she was so upset all she could do was squeak in panic and try not to hyperventilate.

  It took a full five minutes—and the aid of a paper bag snatched from the kitchen cupboard—to bring herself under control. When she did, she scooped Felicity up with one shaking arm and the legal documents in the other hand, and hurried out to the back yard.

  Her Mom, Dad, Lark, and her fiancé, Mason, were playing horseshoes, while Melody manned the grill, reworking all her old cheers from high school to fit horseshoes instead of basketball.

  It was a warm, happy, family scene.

  One Aria was going to crash like a baseball through a window.

  “Daddy, I
am going to kill you,” Aria said. “For real. Kill. Dead. Forever!”

  Her father looked over with a frown bunching his eyebrows. He was almost completely bald, but his eyebrows had gotten bushier with age, until they looked like wild caterpillars set loose to roam his forehead. He was turning into a cute old man, but right now Aria didn’t find anything about him cute, not his eyebrows, and certainly not his recent ridiculous behavior that had, no doubt, contributed to making Liam think he had a shot in hell of pulling off his latest stunt.

  His latest, terrifying, panic-inducing stunt.

  “Liam is suing me for custody of Felicity,” Aria said, voice trembling as she held up the papers. “Full, legal and physical custody.”

  “What!” Lark’s eyes went wide with anger and fear. “That’s insane!”

  “Insane or not, he might have a chance,” Aria said. “Since I’m living with a man who has recently been arrested for disturbing the peace and indecent exposure.”

  Daddy’s eyebrows un-bunched as he threw his head back and laughed.

  “This isn’t funny, Daddy!” Aria shouted.

  “It is funny. It’s bull-dooky.” He laughed again, and turned back to hurl his last horseshoe. “That fool doesn’t have a chance.”

  “He might! You were arrested, Dad! This is serious!” She fought the urge to stomp her foot, or start to cry.

  She was twenty-eight years old, by God. She wasn’t going to act like a child, and she wasn’t going to cry. If she started, she might never stop, and Felicity got scared when her mama was upset. She was already starting to chant “No, no, no,” again simply from hearing Aria raise her voice.

  “Here, let me take her,” Melody said, appearing at her side. “I’m done cooking and the ribs are resting on the grill. We can go play with toys while y’all talk.”

  For a moment, Aria held back, not wanting to let Felicity go, some primal part of her determined to hold onto her child so tight that no one could take her away. But finally she forced herself to relax, and hand the baby over to her sister. If her father kept laughing, she was going to get more upset, which would only upset Felicity. The baby was better off with Aunt Melody.

  “Let’s see exactly what it says, honey, before we all get upset.” Aria’s Mom crossed the grass to take the papers, giving Aria a comforting pat on the back. “You’re such a good mama, I can’t believe Liam has a case. I’m sure everything is going to be fine.”

  She flipped through the documents, her pleasant, hopeful expression slowly replaced by a worried frown. Aria’s mom was not a worrier. She always looked on the sunny side. She saw the silver lining, not the cloud. If she was worried, then this was as bad as Aria had feared.

  Maybe even worse.

  “It’s bad, isn’t it?” Aria asked, nibbling on a fingernail, an old, anxious habit she hadn’t indulged in years.

  “It doesn’t look good, thanks to your father.” Mom turned to glare at Dad. “They’re calling you a sexual deviant, Bob.”

  Daddy laughed again, like it was the most hysterical thing he’d heard in years.

  Mom propped her hands on her hips, papers flapping. “Stop it! They make it sound like Felicity isn’t safe here with us. Why in hell did you think it was a good idea to go streaking down Main Street with all your stupid, old friends?”

  Oh, no. Mom had used the words “hell” and “stupid.” Her mother never cussed. She never said anything the least bit derogatory if she could help it. The fact that she was cussing mad at Daddy was a terrible sign.

  Of course, Mom had been mortified ever since the police report hit the paper last week. Daddy and ten of his buddies from high school getting drunk at their fortieth reunion and deciding to streak down the busiest street in town to relive their glory days, getting arrested, and held in lockup overnight, was bad enough. Knowing the entire town of Summerville was reading about it in the local paper was enough to make Mom take to her bed for the day, locking the door and refusing to let Daddy in, even when he came bearing her favorite ice-cream by way of apology.

  “It was a reunion prank,” Daddy said, shaking his head like Mom was the crazy one. “We had a few beers, and decided to go streaking the way we did on graduation night. It was a joke, Sue, and everybody in town knows it. Just like they know I’m not a deviant or a danger to my granddaughter or anyone else.”

  “You were still arrested, Bob,” Mom said, tears rising in her eyes. “And we don’t know which judge will hear the case. If it’s someone who doesn’t know you, they might decide that your arrest, combined with all these things Liam is claiming he can give Felicity that Aria can’t provide right now, is enough to grant Liam custody. Or at least shared custody.”

  “He hasn’t even seen Felicity since she was three months old! Or spent a dime to help Aria cover expenses!” Lark shouted, pacing back and forth across the grass. “He doesn’t deserve any custody. At all. Ever!”

  “Let me call my friend, Chris. He’s a family lawyer in Atlanta,” Mason said, catching Aria’s eye even as he put a soothing hand on Lark’s shoulder, calming her almost instantly.

  He could do that, with just a touch, because they were that much in love, that connected, body and soul. If Aria weren’t so happy for her sister, she would be jealous.

  All right, maybe she was a little jealous. Not of Mason, but that Lark had someone who completely understood her, who loved her, warts and all, and considered marriage an honor and a privilege, not a fate to be avoided at all costs.

  “It’s after hours,” Mason continued. “But I bet he’ll answer for me. We had lunch last week, and he’s going to be moving his twins over to my practice. Maybe he can give us some advice.”

  Aria nodded. “Thanks,” she said, grateful for Mason’s encouraging smile as he pulled out his cell phone.

  He really was a good guy, and she was so glad he and Lark had patched things up. If they hadn’t, she might never have forgiven herself for the role she played in their second breakup. Liam had poisoned her in so many ways, but one of the worst was that she had a hard time believing in love anymore, a hard time trusting that any man was really who he claimed to be.

  But she trusted Mason, and when he got his friend on the phone and then handed her his cell, Aria took it gratefully.

  “Hi, Chris, this is Aria March,” she said, nerves humming with anxiety.

  “Come on, let’s give Aria some privacy,” Lark said, taking Mom’s hand and leading her across the lawn. With one last encouraging look, Mason followed.

  “Hi, Aria,” Chris said. “Excuse the background noise, my twins haven’t gone to sleep yet.”

  “Oh, no worries,” Aria said. “I’m just so glad to have someone to talk to right away. This is so upsetting.”

  “I completely get it, and I’m happy to give you an opinion as a friend of a friend, but I wouldn’t recommend taking any action on my advice until you talk to your own attorney,” Chris said. “This is just some off the clock advice from a person who has experience with family law.”

  Aria said she understood and then proceeded to fill Chris in on the details of the suit. Liam was suing her for full custody. He claimed that he was more financially stable than the baby’s mother, who lived with her parents and didn’t even own a car of her own. He claimed he could provide Felicity with a house to grow up in, a room of her own, a college fund, and anything else money could buy, as well as a complete nuclear family.

  Apparently he and Char had said their “I dos” a month ago, and were now ready to settle down and raise a baby. Aria’s baby.

  The gall of that alone was enough to make steam come out of Aria’s ears.

  Liam also claimed that he and his new wife could offer Felicity a more wholesome environment, in a single-family home, without a sexual deviant who had been arrested and charged with indecent exposure living in the house. There were some other slurs in there—questioning Aria’s mental stability and mothering skills for moving the baby so far away from her father, and claiming Aria was deliberate
ly attempting to alienate Liam from his daughter—which Aria read in a wooden voice, grateful to get it all out and done with.

  “So?” she said when she was finished. “What do you think?”

  Chris made a thoughtful noise. “How long ago was your divorce final?”

  Aria hesitated. “Is this call completely confidential?”

  “Of course,” Chris said. “I wouldn’t discuss any of this with Mason or anyone else.”

  Aria nodded though he obviously couldn’t see her. “Liam and I were never married,” she whispered. “But I haven’t told my parents. They would flip out if they knew I had Felicity out of wedlock.”

  “But that’s great,” Chris said in an upbeat voice. “He’ll have a harder time establishing his parental rights if you two weren’t married.”

  “But his name is on her birth certificate,” Aria said, wishing she hadn’t been so adamant that Liam claim paternity. At the time, she’d thought it would push him a step closer to marriage. Now, she wanted to kick herself for being such a fool. “And we signed some other paperwork when Felicity was born. We both acknowledged that he’s the father.”

  The enthusiasm in Chris’s voice lessened slightly. “Well…that will make things less complicated for him, then. Paternity is already established, so that’s one less thing he’ll have to prove. He’s got a decent case. Not a great case, but, depending on the judge, there’s a chance he could get shared custody.”

  “But my work and my family are here,” Aria said, panicking all over again. “I don’t want to leave Felicity alone with Liam, and I can’t afford to drive to Nashville every other week. I couldn’t even afford childcare if my mom didn’t help out. A lot.”

  “The father will have to pay some support. He’s paying already isn’t he?”

  Aria shook her head, barely resisting the urge to start chewing her nail again. “No, he hasn’t paid anything since we left.”

  “All right, that will look bad for his case, but—” Chris’s voice was muffled for a moment before he came back on the line. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to go in a second. Time for the twins’ bath, and that’s been a two parent job these days.”