Forever My Girl (The Beaumont Series)

any hint that the sun has come out and see none. Tourists always mark themselves so well.  “Can I help you?” I ask.
    “I thought we could talk,” she says. I have to look at her again to make sure I don’t know her from anywhere. I don’t.
    “Did you want to make an appointment for a bridal consult or is it for something else?”
    She smiles when I mention bridal, she must be in love. “Somehow I don’t think my man would appreciate it if I made wedding plans without him.”
    “You’d be surprised. Most don’t care.”
    We laugh. She’ll learn that guys just nod and say ‘okay, whatever you want honey’. I pull out my appointment book and look at my next available open time.
    “We don’t really need to meet. I just wanted to give you this,” she hands me an envelope – it’s manila and fairly light. I look at the return address. It’s some lawyer in Los Angeles. This must be the paper work for Noah to become Liam’s beneficiary.
    “Thanks,” I say, setting it aside.
    “Aren’t you at least interested in what I just handed you?” She leans on the counter, her long red nails catching my attention. Her twisted smile is devious, as if she’s planning something harsh and I’m the tail end of the joke.
    I pick up the envelope and pull the flap open. Taking out the papers and reading them carefully, anger boils under my skin. He’s done what he promised he wouldn’t. I put the papers back in the envelope and slide it under the counter next to my purse.
    “You really should’ve just mailed them. It seems like a wasted trip.” I try to busy my hands when all I want to do is kick every one out and race to Liam’s to pick up my son.
    “It’s my job to make sure my client’s needs are met to the fullest.”
    “Lucky client,” I reply secretly hoping she’ll leave. She’s done her job. No need to hang around any longer.
    “By the way, I’m Sam Moreno,” she sticks out her hand. I don’t move to shake it. I have no desire to be friendly with her. She pulls her hand back. “Anyway, I'm Liam’s manager. From here on out, you’ll go through me where your son and Liam are concerned. Also, the last page of the filing I just gave you is for a paternity test.”
    “A what?” I squeak out.
    “Well, you can’t expect someone like Liam Page to just hand over cash for a child that might not be his, do you? I mean I'm sure that’s what you thought he was going to do when you dumped your kid on his doorstep like a money-grabbing little whore. You may have a desire to milk my client's cash cow repeatedly but I can assure you, I won’t let that happen.”
    “You should go now.” I bite my tongue from lashing out. I know she’s just doing the job that Liam hired her for, but I want to gouge her eyes out with my shears and watch them bleed down her smug face.
    She smiles, picks up her bag and walks out the door.         
    Customers still linger, but none seem aware of what just took place. I walk up to them calmly and tell them that there has been an emergency and I need to close early. I offer them a discount on their next purchase and promise I’ll be open tomorrow. Thankfully they aren’t too upset.
    The drive to Liam’s is messy. I don’t even know when it started snowing, but the lightly snow-covered roads make driving difficult. I take in a few deep, calming breaths when I pull into his driveway. He’s decorated the outside of his house with white lights. There are candle lights in each window, something I suggested. There’s a green wreath with a large red bow hanging on the front door.
    For the first time I notice that my name appears on the Santa decoration sitting on the porch. It says Liam, Josie and Noah live here. I trace our names before knocking.
    The door swings open. Liam is standing in front of me. He’s confused, his brows push forward. “Why are you knocking?”
    I should’ve practiced what I was going to say. I can’t look at him. I just want my son.
    “I came to get Noah.”
    “What do you mean you came to get him? We have plans tonight.”
    “I… things change. I need to take my son home now.”
    Liam steps forward, down onto the porch. He closes the door behind him. He’s standing on the brick porch barefoot in a t-shirt and jeans. He must be freezing.
    “What’s going on?” he asks. I step away creating space between us, only for him to step closer. My head shakes, I can’t look at him. I won’t.
    “Jojo,” he says as he reaches for