Page 72 of Blinding Lights

“It is if you move. I⁠—”

“If I was ever going to move, I would absolutely talk to you about it. You thinking otherwise only stems from your guilt over keeping secrets from me. I have always done right by you. Don’t you dare try to tell me otherwise.”

Travis’s throat bobs just as Ava’s loud footsteps come barreling toward us. “Thank you for dropping Ava off.” I smile as she arrives. “I’ll leave the two of you to say goodbye.”

I stride confidently into the living room and collapse onto the couch the second I’m out of sight, hunching over with my elbows resting on my knees and my face in my hands.

I’m proud of myself for finally voicing what’s on my mind, but at the same time… God, that was hard. And maybe a little foolish. What if this is the kick he needs to begin custody proceedings?

A buzzing rings in my ears, and anxiety tightens my chest.

From my position near the door, I can just make out Ava’s voice as she tells Travis her plans for this week and asks him to call her on the weekend. After saying goodbye, he calls out to me and I casually call back. For Ava’s sake, not his.

“Bye, Lily.”

“See you next time.”

I’ve just schooled my features when Ava comes dancing into the room, a megawatt smile on her face. “Are the cookies ready?” She bounces in excitement, and I conjure a smile, knowing they are.

Barely ten minutes have passed when the doorbell rings again, and I groan at the dough in my hands until a thought hits me. “Is your dad back?” I ask Ava, as the tightness inside me returns. “I’ll bet you left something in the car. Can you run ahead while I wash my hands? But don’t open the door until you ask who it is.”

“I know.” A wave of annoyance rolls through her voice and I can’t help but laugh. My five-year-old is fast becoming a tween. I thought I had years before that would happen.

I’m still drying my hands as I turn into the hallway, my nerves already shot. “Who is i—” I drop the hand towel as my eyes lock on Beckett, and I freeze mid-thought.

“Hi.” Beckett lifts his hand in the smallest of waves and attempts to hide the panic in his eyes by smiling. It doesn’t work. Still I smile back, perhaps doing the same.

“Hi. I⁠—”

“Can Mr. Beckett play with us, Mom?” Ava turns my way, butting in, making Beckett’s eyes grow comically wide. He’s not here to play. In fact, I’d guess he forgot Ava was due home this morning.

“I think Mr. Beckett has a flight to catch, sweetie. But maybe next time he’s here.”

“Do you?” Ava turns back to Beckett, and I don’t have to see her expression to know she’s using her cute little puppy-dog eyes in an attempt to persuade him. “We’re making sugar cookies.”

I bet she’s batting her eyelashes.

Beckett visibly swallows, and I wait for him to glance my way for support. Only, he doesn’t. Instead, he smiles, and I know in an instant, he’s giving her the smile he reserves for the media and his fans. He’s putting on a front. He’s here to end things for good.

“I’ve got an hour; is that enough time?”

Ava squeals and my heart slams in my chest. I know he means well, but I don’t want him to stay if he doesn’t want to be here.

“Thank you. Let’s go.” She grabs Beckett’s hand, and in a heartbeat, his smile morphs into something real. He holds my gaze as he walks past, and his eyes spark with a tender longing. One I know means today’s goodbye is going to be our last.

When Ava disappears to wash her hands, I pull Beckett into the kitchen, doing nothing to hide the apprehension I’m feeling. “You don’t have to stay. Ava will be fine. I know⁠—”

“I’ve got time.” His emotionless voice has my heart lurching, but like Beckett, I manage a forced smile, just as Ava comes running back into the room.

“Are you ready?” She’s changed into a princess dress, and I have to bite my tongue so I don’t laugh. She’s as smitten with this man as I am.

Beckett hits her with one of his genuine grins and gestures toward the mess on the counter. “You’ll have to show me what to do.” He picks up one of the cookie cutters, feigning confusion. “Would you believe I’ve never made cookies before?”

Ava gasps and her expression turns serious. “Don’t worry. It’s easy. Come on.” She grabs his hand again, and I bite my cheek to stave off the tears threatening to fall. This is what I always imagined life would be like when I had a family—afternoons playing games, Ava having fun with her dad.

“First.” She takes the cookie cutter from Beckett’s hand and holds it up in front of him. “We use these to make shapes in the cookie dough. This one makes a Christmas tree.”

Beckett nods with intrigue, and I snort while stifling another laugh, earning me a bout of side-eye as Beckett tries to keep a straight face.