“I was there, remember?”
“Right.” I nudged him. “We’re in this together, aren’t we?”
“Michelle.” His fingers found mine and he squeezed. “After what we’ve been through, no one else will want us.”
There was no arguing with that.
“I’m scared to love this,” I admitted. “What if we wake up tomorrow and he’s back on the floor, knotting?”
“Take the win, Gold Coast. Trust the miracle.”
“Why?” I asked. “Because our track record’s been so strong?”
“No, because we worked hard for this victory. Dump Gatorade on my head and let’s call it a day.”
He had a point. I’d never fought harder for anything in my life.
“Okay, then.” I lifted my arms. “Pour it on.”
Scott wrapped an arm around my waist, lifted me clean off the floor, and carried me straight to the bed. When my back hit the mattress, he followed me down. I smiled, holding him close, feeling lighter than I had in months. What we’d lived through would have broken many other marriages. It had stripped us raw and left us jagged. But Scott and I had walked it together, every brutal step, and he hadn’t just loved me through it, he’d lived it beside me, through the fear, the waiting, and all the things you don’t say out loud.
That we were still standing proved we were solid.
He kissed me then, bringing the heat with just enough fun and flirting to make me laugh. Always my favorite Scottcombination. I brought my hands to his face and kissed him the way he deserved, because this man deserved the world.
“That’s right, give me that victory smooch, Babe,” Scott said with a hint of a smile against my mouth. “The McKallisters are back.”
40
SCOTT: SUITS
Two Years Later
The Making of Jake McKallister
The lawyer satat the head of our kitchen table in his pressed suit, his legal pad aligned just so. He appeared completely comfortable, like a man who knew exactly how much damage he could do from a seated position. Michelle was beside me, with her back straight, mouth set, and her hands folded so tightly I could see the tendons straining. Jake sat across from us, chair tipped back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest in textbook teenage rebellion. At nearly sixteen, he didn’t suffer fools. And although he hadn’t said a word yet, I knew it was coming just by his pissed-off expression.
The second man, a studio representative dressed just as impressively, sat beside the lawyer. He hadn’t said much yet, but he didn’t need to. Why get his hands dirty when he had a henchman lawyer to do it for him?
The lawyer adjusted his cufflinks. “Mr. and Mrs. McKallister, I don’t think you fully grasp the seriousness of the situation.”
Oh, we grasped it… right down to the dollar signs. But Michelle and I were still trying to wrap our heads around the first shock that had come minutes earlier, when the lawyer informed us that our son hadn’t just been playing in a garage band like he told us. No. He’d signed a record contract using a fake ID. At fifteen. Without us knowing a damn thing about it.
Which was how the lawyer and the music label’s rep ended up in our kitchen.
“Your son entered into a binding recording agreement under a false identity. That exposes the label to significant liability… and constitutes fraud.”
We were still catching up to what Jake had actually done, but what we’d pieced together as the lawyer kept talking was this: he’d answered an ad. Not from some kid’s garage band, but an established one hunting for a frontman. He’d lied about his age. Lied about who he was. He hadn’t just been rehearsing—he’d been performing. A real label had signed them. And somewhere in all of that, our underage son had been fingerprinted for a background check.
“Uhh,” Jake groaned, like this was nothing more than a misunderstanding. “I sang a few songs. Laid a couple of tracks. Big deal.”
The lawyer turned to Jake. “You misrepresented your age and name.”
I looked at Michelle, giving her a what the hell is happening here? glance. Ten minutes ago, I still thought Jake was messing around in someone’s garage, chasing a hobby.
She gave a small shake of her head, but that tight crease between her brows told me she was already three steps ahead, connecting dots I hadn’t even seen yet.
“With falsified identification,” the lawyer went on, addressing Jake directly, “while you were a minor, and whileconcealing a very public identity that materially affects the value of the contract.”
