Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 138683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Milo guided me toward a small square table in the middle where a woman sat sipping a cup of coffee.
She was probably in her mid-forties, her hair down and curled in loose waves, wearing a pantsuit and soft determination on her face.
“Mr. Hendricks, it’s great to see you again,” she said as she pushed up from her chair and extended her hand over the table.
Milo shook it as he said, “It’s good to see you, too, Ms. Anderson.”
He shifted back, nudging me forward. “This is Tessa McDaniels, my fiancée.”
Her eyes lit. “Miss McDaniels. It’s a pleasure. Please sit.”
She gestured to the open chairs, and Milo pulled the one out for me that was directly across from his attorney.
Ever the gentleman.
“Thank you,” I mumbled, chanting silently, Do not screw this up and accidentally blurt out that this is fake.
We’d be dead in our tracks before we ever made it out of the gates.
Milo leaned down from behind and pressed a kiss to my temple. “Anytime, baby.”
My heart pattered.
Fake.
Remember it’s fake.
But for the love of God, don’t say it out loud.
Nope, this was not messing with my head or anything.
“I appreciate you meeting with us,” Milo said in his rumbly voice as he took the chair between us.
Her smile was coy. “Well, it is my job, but I must admit, I’ve been anxious to hear about this one.”
She shifted her attention to me.
I itched on my seat and sent her a little wave.
Milo chuckled and reached for my hand over the table. He squeezed it in a clear show of support.
We had this.
“Tell me about yourself,” she prodded.
Well, then, we were going to get right down to business and no one had even offered me a margarita.
I swallowed my nerves and lifted my chin. “Well, let’s see…I work as a third-grade teacher at a private Christian academy here in Redemption Hills. I’m also the executive director of Hope to Hands, a nonprofit supporting the community.”
Milo’s attorney looked much happier to hear it than Paula had.
“I also have an older brother…his name’s Bobby.” Affection wobbled out. “He lives in a long-term care facility after an accident in which he sustained a severe brain injury. I’m his power of attorney.”
She nodded, obviously pleased.
“And you met Milo…?”
“Through our friends where he works.”
Her attention shifted back to Milo. “The club? Absolution?”
Milo gave her a tight nod, unease flitting through his being.
She blew out through her nose. “I feel like that is the biggest issue you have going against you, Milo, if I may call you that?”
“Of course,” he said, but the words were sticky.
Discomfort rippled through his big body.
I squeezed his hand tighter.
“I would urge you to move beyond your current profession. The court isn’t going to like the idea of you working at a club, being away all hours of the night when your family might need you, especially in that type of atmosphere.”
I knew it was part of what Paula had used against him before.
“I’ll be there at night with the kids.” The promise whipped out without consideration.
But I’d told him I would be there.
For him.
For them.
I’d meant it.
“That is a good start, but I think it would be helpful if Milo had higher aspirations.”
I didn’t love that she was demeaning his job, but I got it.
The idea of a bouncer came with a certain impression, and it typically wasn’t the good kind. Paula could easily twist what he did into something sordid.
A war went down in Milo’s psyche, a severity firing from him in sparks of pain, like he was stuck and didn’t know how to move forward. He seemed to have to pry the words from his mouth. “I plan on starting my own business…a construction company.”
What?
That would be awesome.
I had to bite my tongue to keep from squealing and demanding to know all the deets. From telling him how freaking proud of him I was.
A good fiancée would already know these things.
But honestly, it was perfect. So fitting for him. I’d already seen what those big, bare hands were capable of. The rugged beauty they created.
Ms. Anderson smiled, but Milo didn’t return it.
Worry for him curdled in my stomach.
“That is wonderful, Milo,” she encouraged. She jotted down a few notes. “I think you’re in a good position to have your rights restored. Honestly, I’m surprised the judge didn’t rule in your favor the last time you contested their custody. It’s obviously time that you and your children were reunited.”
She continued writing a couple more things down before she lifted her head and pinned her attention on Milo. “When would you like to get started with this process?”
“As soon as possible.” It ripped from his mouth on desperation and a shock of hope, his entire body bowing forward in relief.
“Great, I’ll file the petition tomorrow.”
Expectation and disbelief blistered through him, and I found myself leaning farther over the table toward him, clinging to his hand.