He stops talking. Looks at me in confusion. “What part?”
"The whole thing. Pull the advertising pressure. Drop the suits. Let them keep their debt."
The silence stretches between us. Beck doesn't move, doesn't reach for his phone. He doesn't do anything except study me with those sharp attorney's eyes that miss nothing.
"What changed?"
"Avery was right." The words chafe, but they come out anyway. "Every filing, every headline just keeps the wound open. Feeds the story instead of letting it die. I told myself I was trying to help her, but all I've been doing is adding to her stress."
Beck leans back, exhaling. Somewhere out there, Rennick Media is probably drafting their next legal response, preparing for a war I'm no longer interested in fighting.
"I thought I was protecting her. Protecting myself." My right hand curls, scar tissue pulling tight. It’s an old reflex, the instinct to grip harder when control starts slipping. Dropping this fight with Rennick now means accepting that some exposure is beyond my control. "Anyway, fuck it. The whys don't matter anymore. None of it is worth what it's costing her."
Beck shifts in his chair. The calculated neutrality is gone from his face. Something more honest has replaced it, a respect he usually keeps filed away beneath the professional veneer.
"Avery finally persuaded you to drop it?"
"No. Just the opposite.” I let out a short breath, shaking my head. “She told me she understood why I needed to do it. She gave me permission to protect us however I saw fit."
Surprise lifts my friend’s dark brows. "You sure about this? Once we stand down, the leverage is gone. If they come at you again—"
"Then that’s a fight for another day. I’m only concerned about right now, and about doing what’s best for Avery." I meet his eyes. "So, yeah, I'm sure."
He nods slowly. Once. The acknowledgment is understated, but I know Beck well enough to read what's underneath. Respect for a decision he counseled me toward the night this all blew up, when I was too consumed by rage to listen.
"I'll make the calls this morning," he says. "Consider it done."
But he doesn't move to leave. Just sits there, watching me with the shrewd attention of a man who's known me for too long.
"That's not the whole story," he says, and it's not a question. "What's going on with you, Nick?"
I should have known he'd catch it. A decade of friendship. He can read me the way he reads contracts. Every clause, every implication, everything left unsaid between the lines.
"Avery's pregnant."
“Oh.” Beck goes very still. Not the strategic pause of an attorney weighing variables. Something deeper, more personal. His eyes hold mine with a gravity I’ve seldom seen in him. He settles back in the chair, absorbing. "How far along is she?"
"Just past six weeks. We were in the ER yesterday. She nearly fainted at a dress fitting. She's fine. The baby's fine. But it scared the shit out of me."
"Jesus." He leans forward, concern sharpening his jaw, tightening the set of his mouth.
"Doctor says she needs to rest, eat regularly, avoid stress." I exhale. "That's why I'm finished with Rennick. I'm done adding chaos to her life."
“Understandable,” he says. I watch him processing everything I've unloaded on him in the span of thirty seconds. Then, slowly, the tension in his jaw eases. "You're going to be a father."
A rough sound escapes me, not quite a laugh. "Can you believe that?"
"Nick." He shakes his head, and warmth cracks through his professional composure. "Congratulations. That's… Christ, that's incredible."
The sincerity catches me off guard. Beck doesn't do effusive. Doesn't waste words on sentiment. But this is real. He knows what this means for me. I suspect he also knows what it costs me to believe I might deserve it. The poverty, the violence, the lack of any real home life when I was a kid—Beck knows enough about all of that to understand what it means that I'm sitting here talking about becoming a father.
Hell, I'm still getting used to saying it out loud. Still getting used to the reality that Avery and I are going to be parents, and that eventually this abstract idea will become a tiny person I’ll hold in my arms.
"Do you know the sex yet?"
"Too early, and we've decided to wait. Avery wants to be surprised." The corner of my mouth tugs upward. "One thing we don't need to plan to death."
Beck chuckles, settling back in his chair. "For your sake, I hope it's not a girl. Although watching you deal with some young asshole trying to date your daughter would be amusing."
