“What about Arvin? For that matter, what about Megan’s paternal grandparents?”
“Dead,” he said. “And Arvin was having none of it, and his wife passed away a while back, so he had no wife to soften his stance. Even so, staying in Santa Fe with Megan and Tony and Betty was a much better situation than bouncing all over the world with me and growing up in the care of a nanny.”
I nod, taking it all in. And I understand the decision he’d made. “It must have been hard,” I say.
I can hear the loss and longing in his voice when he says simply, “It was.”
“But now you’re pushing to establish parental rights?”
“I want custody now. It’s what’s best for Ronnie.”
“Because her life was stable when Tony was alive, but now with all of Megan’s problems …”
I trail off, and he picks up the thread. “Exactly. I hate it, but I can’t deny that Megan’s losing her grip—and I need to keep Ronnie safe. I need to be her dad, not her uncle.” His voice gathers force. “More than that, I want to be.”
“And Megan’s okay with that?”
“Yes and no. When she’s level, she is. And so is her family, especially Betty, who’s been a huge ally to me.”
“And when Megan’s not level?” I ask.
“She wants me to stay the hell away.” He frowns, his expression all kinds of sad. “Even when she’s level, though, she’s concerned. When you first saw her at the screening, we argued, remember?”
I nod.
“Megan was chewing me out about bringing Ronnie into the thick of this shit. She’s going to be surrounded by enough scandal with the movie, Megan said. But how much worse will it be if we add to that by revealing that I’m her father?” He frowns. “The thing is, all of that is true.”
I draw in a breath, because he is absolutely right. The kid will be the focal point of a media shitstorm.
“That’s why you don’t want the movie made.”
He squeezes my hand. “That’s why it won’t be made,” he says, “and that’s what I told Megan. There’s not going to be a movie. There are two people in this world that I will protect no matter what. You and Ronnie.” He meets my eyes. “I’m not letting that movie get made, Sylvia. There’s been enough trauma in that little girl’s life. Whatever it takes,” he says, “I’m shutting Reed down.”
“Do you know what I’d like to do tonight?” Jackson asks. We’re in the Porsche, just pulling into the marina parking lot.
It’s after eleven, and we’re both exhausted. Big emotional revelations will do that. “If you say go out dancing, I will have to hurt you.”
“I want to sit in bed with you beside me, a drink in my hand, and the television playing some mindless program. Possibly with a book, but that depends on how mindless the show is. What?” he says, apparently realizing that I’m staring at him.
“Nothing,” I say. “Just that I only this minute realized how absolutely perfect you are.”
A shadow flickers across his eyes. “I worry, you know. That I’m doing the right thing for her even without factoring in all the bullshit with the movie. I mean, what do I know about being a dad?”
I take his hand. “I think worry is one of the signs of a good father. I think that worry is part of the package.” I brush his cheek with my thumb. “You’re going to do great. She’s a lucky girl to have you.”
I don’t know if I’ve eased his concerns, but the shadow fades, replaced by a slow smile. “And you?”
“Me?”
“Are you lucky to have me?”
My heart twists. “Luckiest woman in the world.”
He holds my gaze; his is so intense and vibrant that it not only steals my thoughts, but makes my body hum.
“What?” I finally manage.
“I’m just looking forward to our lazy night in bed.”
“Oh.” A flicker of disappointment cuts through me.