Page 109 of Fall Love

My mind flips through all the other ways he took care of me. How he held my hand through childbirth, and he’s been by my side every step afterward. How he took care of Wren, with the sweetest baby room and meeting her every need.

She was never going to want for anything with him as her dad.

Just like I never wanted for anything with mine, even if he made a mistake near the end.

A big mistake.

One that cost us his business. Cost me that business. That was never Tate’s fault. I just wanted to blame someone other than Dad. I couldn’t point the finger at him because he was Dad.

The one man I always relied on to be there for me.

And now Tate wanted that position.

Something told me he’d do a good job of taking care of me.

Because he loves me.

Five days later, I still haven’t spoken directly to Tate. While he texted me about seeing Wren, I agreed, but gave them space, mainly by dropping her off at his place. The exterior of Tate and me was banged up, but I couldn’t let Wren suffer the consequences. She needed what Tate would offer her. A loving father. The father-daughter relationship I had was one of the most important ones in my life. I wanted Wren to have the same thing.

I wanted that for Tate as well. As much as I was still angry with him, he’d always wanted to be a father, and I believed he had staying power for his daughter.

In the meantime, I reeled with everything.

I needed to find a job. I needed to find a bigger place to live. But most of all, I missed Tate, but I didn’t know what to say to him, where to start to repair what had been demolished.

As the days passed and the silence grew, I worried we’d be too late to salvage us.

Just like I couldn’t save Rusty’s Wrecks.

When Wren reached her one-month birthday, Tate and I should have been together to celebrate her.

Instead, I received a packet in the mail that made my palms sweat.

The thick envelope addressed to me is from a law firm. A sickening sensation momentarily hits my gut. Tate is going to demand custody.

I don’t want to believe it, but I can’t refuse to believe it until I read the papers inside. With shaky fingers, I pull a thick packet from the envelope.

My heart still races, my mind galloping to extremes.

Tate doesn’t want to share parenthood, like a true couple, he wants to be⁠—

Partners in business.

I blink and reread the first few lines of the document, which explains that Tate Love wants to enter into a partnership with me, Neve Snowe, in joint ownership of Firehouse Station, an auto repair shop, located in Lovewell Landing.

“What the apple picker?” I mutter aloud as my hands continue to tremble. Even Wren kicks in her bouncy seat. She looks a little too small for the thing, and she doesn’t quite understand the apparatus, but she’s been staring at the black and white toys on the bar over the seat.

I reread the first page again, then reach into the envelope one more time for a set of keys.

“Wren,” I whisper to her. “What did your daddy do now?”

Within minutes, I’m rushing to dress her for the colder weather that has set in. The day is bright and sunny, but cool as late October can be. Driving along the coast toward Lovewell Landing’s town center, the trees have all peaked in their color changes, many still hanging onto their new shades even as they dull to burnt orange and faded yellow.

When we reach the old firehouse, I park in front of it and lug Wren’s car seat out of the base. Keys in hand, my fingers tremble as I set them in the lock, still nervous that I have read things incorrectly. But the key fits, and the lock clicks, and the door opens.

Like Tate said. The door would always be open.

A musty smell, mingled with stale gasoline, wafts up my nose, and my heart swells. The two-bay garage is huge, and the space is perfect for a car lift. I set the car seat down and take Wren out of it, carrying her up the stairs to the second floor. An ancient kitchen stands at one end of the room. The other half of the space includes a shower room and former sleeping quarters, complete with a pole to the first floor. Fun, but not conducive for Wren.