Beckett refused to look at his phone when he got out of bed the next morning. He had no desire to see any apology texts or voicemails from Gianna. And then — when he finally broke down at lunch and checked — he was even more pissed to find there were none.

It was only a matter of time before the whole town knew they were through. Ellery had certainly gotten the message loud and clear that morning when he’d told her not to worry about finishing Evan’s guardianship papers before slamming his office door.

She’d communicated with him via email for the rest of the morning.

He felt bad about being a dick to the one woman he could always count on and offered to buy her lunch. He gave her extra cash and ordered a smoothie from OJ’s just to keep her out of the office a little longer so he could fester in peace.

He couldn’t believe Gianna would do this to him. Just as he’d been thinking about the future …

Thinking about their future got him knocked on the ass by her past. Her present, he corrected himself. Paul was back. And no matter what Gianna’s argument was, Beckett wasn’t going to step between a man and his family. Not one that had the opportunity to be reunited.

He closed his eyes and brought his father’s face to mind. The sharp gray eyes, the lines carved by time and sun. A mouth that always looked as if it was smiling at some inside joke. Beckett could almost hear the sound of his laugh, a raspy chuckle. He would have laughed last night at his boys cruising the town square, razzing each other and reminiscing. John Pierce would have been there with them, riding shotgun in his worn flannel.

He would have been there if he could. But Beckett’s family wasn’t one that could be put back together.

However, Gianna’s could.

By mid-afternoon, Beckett’s curiosity got the best of him. He put aside deposition transcripts that he’d been staring at without seeing for an hour and logged into Facebook. The news had surely gotten out by now. Maybe someone had posted a picture of how Gianna was coping.

Not that he cared.

He frowned at his screen. The link was always there on the left, but it was missing now. He tried the mobile app with the same results. Dismissing it as a glitch, Beckett retreated back to his dark mood and work.

It was another thirty minutes before he gave up entirely.

He wasn’t accomplishing anything moping in his office.

Like a coward, he emailed Ellery from behind closed doors and told her he was calling it a day. He headed upstairs and changed into running clothes and headed out at a hard run toward the trail that snaked through woods and fields.

By mile three, his pace had him gasping for breath. He slowed just enough to not have a heart attack. He heard footsteps on the trail behind him, light and quick. He knew the tread.

“Hey, Beckett,” Taneisha breathed as she loped alongside him, her long legs eating up the gravel with ease.

“Hey.” His greeting sounded like someone was strangling the breath right out of him.

“Sorry to hear about you and Gia,” she said, conversationally.

Beckett stumbled, but recovered quickly. “You heard, huh?”

She shot him an “are you stupid” look. “Yeah, I heard. It’s too bad, but that Paul’s a hell of a guy.”

Beckett swiveled his head on his neck so fast he heard a snap. “Paul? You met him?”

“Yeah, he was in the lunch yoga class today. He’s incredibly limber.”

Beckett grunted. Of course he was. Dick.

“You can tell there’s a long history there,” Taneisha continued, oblivious to Beckett’s internal conflict. “Anyway, I better pick up the pace.” She winked and shoved her earbuds back in her ears.

“Break a leg,” Beckett muttered.

“What was that?” Taneisha slowed up her pace and pulled out an earbud.

“Uh, I said good luck.”

She waved and took off, her antelope strides leaving him behind to stew in his funk.

* * *

It happened everywhere. Everyone wanted to talk about Paul. And no one seemed interested in the fact that Beckett was devastated and furious over the breakup. No, Fran at the gym wanted to tell him all about Paul’s superior squat clean and how he knew one of her drummer friends.

When he ran into Ernest Washington at the gas station, he made sure to tell Beckett about Paul’s interest and extensive background in the VW culture. And Bruce Oakleigh called him just to tell him that Paul had a “really terrific suggestion” about a town battle of the bands festival for the summer.

Beckett’s own mother didn’t even ask how he was feeling before launching into singing the praises of Paul who had apparently joined Gianna and the kids at Franklin’s house for a nice family dinner. “I just think it’s so amazing that he’s instilled a love of music in his kids. Did you know that Aurora can name all the members of the Beatles?”

No, Mother. He didn’t know that. And quite frankly he didn’t really care. Not that he said that to Phoebe. But he sure thought it.

“You realize this means that Gianna and I broke up, right?”

Phoebe chuckled. “Darling, if you were serious about her you wouldn’t have let a little competition get in your way. You’re probably relieved. I’m sure it was tricky for you dating a woman with kids. Now you can go back to your Trudys.”

Beckett felt sick at the thought.

The last time he answered his phone it was Anthony Berkowicz calling to get a quote from Beckett on Paul Decker’s musician chic wardrobe. “We’re trying to expand the readership of The Monthly Moon with a fashion section,” he’d explained.

Beckett had hung up on him and narrowly avoided throwing his cellphone through the leaded glass window.

* * *

By Day Three of the breakup that nobody else cared about, he’d not only given up answering his phone, but also shaving, protein shakes, and client meetings. Whoever was calling or on the schedule was just going to tell him Paul Decker got nominated for a Nobel Peace Prize or saved Mrs. Nordeman from a choking death with the Heimlich maneuver. And Beckett could live without that knowledge.

But he couldn’t live without food. The only food left in the house was cereal and sour cream, a combination he’d been desperate enough to sample at lunch. A choice he regretted immediately. Beckett pulled the hooded sweatshirt over his head, hoping to go unrecognized in downtown Blue Moon. It was a risky move while it was still light outside, but he had no other choice.

He called in a to-go order from Peace of Pizza to be ready in half an hour and took a deep breath as he stepped out on to his front porch. He could do this. He’d swing by the library to check out the space for Evan’s Debate Club — if Evan still wanted him to be the advisor. And then he’d sneak into downtown to pick up dinner.

In, out, no need for anyone to talk to him about how great Paul Fucking Decker was.

Luck was on his side and he was able to avoid all human contact besides friendly waves and “hey theres” on the way to the library.

It was one of the oldest buildings in Blue Moon. Originally a school, the brick three-story building now housed the town’s eclectic collection of literature. There was an entire section dedicated to tie-dye crafts.

A man on a mission, Beckett quickly walked past the front desk. Usually the combination of scents of old books and the new carpet the board had installed last year made him feel nostalgic, but today he had no room for nostalgia. Taking the stairs in the atrium at the center of the building, he jogged up to the second floor.

There were more books here, including a special wing dedicated to Woodstock and the rest of the sixties. The back half of the floor was still cordoned off into the original classrooms that were now used as meeting spaces.

He picked a door at random and opened it. And stepped into a fresh hell.

Willa, Rainbow and Gordon Berkowicz, Bruce Oakleigh, Bobbie from Peace of Pizza, and Wilson Abramovich, the town jeweler, sat around a conference table listening intently as Ellery walked them through a three-point plan for something.

The TV screen on the wall had two pictures on it. Gia’s and Paul’s. There was a hand-written timeline on a white board behind her with the last event listed as Happily Ever After.

There were iced heart-shaped cookies on a platter in the center of the table. Everyone had a ruby red notebook in front of them with the initials B.C. embossed in a heart on the covers.

“Oh my God.”

All eyes flew guiltily to him. Gordon was the first to react. He jumped up and tried to cover the TV screen with his slight build.

“Oh, hey there, Beckett,” he said, lacing his fingers behind his head and spreading his elbows wide.

“Ellery?” Beckett’s betrayal was complete. He sagged against the doorframe. “You, too?”

She looked like a little kid caught stealing cookies. “I’m sorry, Beckett. I thought this is what you wanted. You broke up with Gia so she could get back with Paul and he’s such a great guy.”

The table murmured their agreement.

“You know Paul?” Beckett asked.

“Sure, he came into the office today.” Guilt turned to excitement. “Oh my God, did you know he opened for the Flying Spiders?”

She must have taken Beckett’s blank look as permission to keep going.

“The Flying Spiders are the hottest goth grunge band this side of the Mississippi. Paul was opening for them and ended up playing a set with them when their drummer was too strung out —”

He cut her off. “You all should be ashamed of yourselves, meddling in people’s lives. What if they don’t want your help? What if there’s someone else out there, better for … someone?” He wasn’t making any sense now.

“But Beckett, we were just following your lead. Getting Paul and Gia back together. It’s what you wanted,” Ellery said, her dark eyes wide and sad. She looked like a kicked puppy and Beckett felt like the victim of an elephant stampede.

He glanced at the whiteboard again. Within the bounds of a red heart the numbers 27-0 were written. The Beautification Committee’s record of wins in love. They had never failed in a match. Why did he want them to fail this time? This was the right thing, wasn’t it?

He backed out into the hallway, shutting the door with a click, without another word and missed the satisfied grins around the table.

* * *

Beckett left the library under a cloud of doom. With the involvement of the B.C. it was only a matter of time before Gia and Paul were remarried and working on baby number three. Most likely in his backyard.

He wanted to throw up.

But it was what he wanted or at least what was right — wasn’t it? Then why did he feel like shit? And how had he not known that Ellery was a member of the B.C.?

Maizie at Peace of Pizza told him it would be another couple of minutes and rather than wait inside with people, he chose to head across the street to the solitude of the park. If he stayed on this end of it, he wouldn’t get too close to the yoga studio, wouldn’t witness Paul doing some flying swan handstand pose or something equally awesome.

He was just stepping up onto the curb when a little flash of red flew at him. “Bucket!”

Aurora, bundled up in a purple coat, launched herself at him. Without thinking, he swooped her up and held her high until she giggled.

“I missed you, Bucket!” she said, when he settled her on his hip. “Mama says you’re busy.”

He felt a pang of guilt. “I’m sorry, shortcake. I miss you, too.”

She had little pink mittens on her hands and her ponytail was askew. “I’m hungry, Bucket. Can I have a snack?”

Beckett wished with all his might that he had a snack squirreled away in a pocket to give her. “Sorry, kiddo. I don’t have anything with me.”

Her face fell, hungry devastation.

“Where’s your mom?” he asked, realizing that a panicked Gianna should have come running by now.

“She’s at da school wiv Evan for somethin’.”

“Did you run away from the school?” Beckett was already digging for his phone before realizing it was still at home.

“No! Silly!” she giggled. “I’m wiv Daddy.”

“Okay, then where’s Daddy?” Beckett asked. Darkness was starting to fall and the park, even in Blue Moon it was no place for a five-year-old by herself.

“I dunno. His phone rang and he says ‘Rora, you hang out here!’” she said in a deep voice. “So I hopped, hopped, hopped on one foot, but I think I hopped too far. Can I go home wiv you?”

Beckett wanted that more than anything. “How about we find your dad first and then we’ll figure it out, okay?”

Aurora sighed. “Okay. Thanks for finding me, Bucket.” She patted his shoulder. She stared at him cocking her head from one side to the other. “I like your face blanket,” she said, bringing her mittens to his cheeks. “Scratchy!”

Face blanket? God love this kid. He hugged her a little tighter to him.

Five long minutes later, during which Beckett began to wonder if Aurora had been abandoned, they spotted Paul pacing in front of a park bench having an animated phone conversation.

He paused when he spotted them and raised a hand that held a cigarette in greeting. “Yeah, yeah. Listen, just do what you have to do and we’ll figure it out in a couple of days, okay? No, man, I’m still in. We’ll figure it out. Cool, cool. Okay, listen, I gotta go. There’s a gorgeous redhead making eyes at me. Ha. Yeah. Later.”

Paul hung up and took one last drag of his cigarette before stubbing it out on the trashcan.

“There’s my Rora Borealis,” he said, holding out his hands to her.

Beckett paused for just a second before handing his daughter over.

“Thanks for entertaining her. Business call went a little longer than expected.”

“No big deal, I just found her across the street in an alley,” Beckett said, stone faced.

“Oh hey! You’re Beckett, Gia’s —”

“Landlord,” Beckett supplied.

“Cool.”

The guy was way more excited than he should have been.

“I’ve been hearing a ton about you from the kids. Haven’t I, Rora?” he tickled her until she giggled.

“Daddy, I’m hungry,” she said between fits of giggles.

“Okay. We can fix that. Is there any food at home?”

“Daddy! I don’t know. Can you make pancakes wiv chocolate and bananas?”

Paul frowned. “I don’t know how to make that. Sorry, kid. What’s next on the list?”

Aurora was starting to look concerned. “Can I have Fruity O’s and soda?”

Paul looked at Beckett. Beckett shook his head imagining the fit Gianna would have if Paul were to pump her daughter full of eight thousand grams of sugar before bed.

“Uh, sorry princess. No on the Fruity O’s. Oh, shit. Don’t do that.”

Aurora’s lip was out and her eyes were tearing up. “Daddy said shiiiiiiiit,” she said on a tearful wail. “I’m so hungry.”

Paul jiggled her up and down, looking left and right like he was looking for a place to stash her. Beckett swooped in and pulled her out of his arms. “Hey, shortcake, do you and your daddy want to come have pizza with me?”

“Yes!” Her eyes cleared, her lip stopped trembling and now she was bouncing up and down on Beckett’s hip. “Yes! Yes!”

“Dude, you’re like the Kid Whisperer,” Paul said with admiration.

Beckett almost cracked a smile. Almost.

Paul’s phone rang again, of course it was a Led Zeppelin guitar riff.

He looked at it. “Oh, I gotta take this. Would you mind?” He tilted his head at Aurora.

Beckett looked at the bouncing Aurora. “Uh, sure. Just head over across the park to Peace of Pizza when you’re done. I’ll get a table.”

* * *

Beckett had a splitting headache after dinner with Paul and Aurora. The guy was charming, interesting even. Beckett would give him that. But holy mother of God, he should not be allowed to play a role in raising children. Not even his own. Especially not his own.

Not only had he let Aurora wander off into the night in a park by herself, he’d tried to put hot pepper flakes on her cheese pizza, let her order a soda and a chocolate milk, and then expected her to find the restroom by herself.

Instead of coloring on the placemat with her like she’d asked, he’d taken two more phone calls.

Band business, he’d mouthed to Beckett.

With Aurora leaning against his arm on their side of the booth Beckett picked up a red crayon and tried not to kill Paul with it.

Beckett ended up walking home a block behind them, just to make sure Paul took Aurora home for bed and not to a strip club or bakery.

That night, he hadn’t even tried going to bed. Sleep was for happy people in committed relationships. He was alone and he’d done it to himself.

Beckett had sat on the couch letting the tick of the grandfather clock mark the passing of the night into dawn. How had he so royally fucked it all up? His harsh words to Gianna kept coming back to him, chipping away pieces of his heart. She wasn’t the one who owed the apology. It was him. And he was pretty sure there weren’t enough ‘I’m sorries’ in the world to make up for the things he’d said.

He had literally shoved Gianna into the arms of another man. A man who — despite the town’s stellar opinion of him — had no business raising children or being married to Gianna.

He, Beckett James Pierce, was the biggest fucking idiot on the planet.

Ellery had taken one look at him that morning when he stumbled into the office in a fog and rescheduled all his appointments for the week. He’d putzed around doing absolutely nothing except for avoiding calls from his family until five.

And now he was having scotch for dinner.

He was sitting on the couch in sweatpants staring at the TV he’d neglected to turn on and debating a third scotch when Carter and Jax walked in.

“Shit.” Carter muttered. “He’s growing a damn beard.”

“Put down the booze and go find some shoes,” Jax ordered.

“You put the booze down and go find shoes,” Beckett snarled.

Carter threw something shiny at him. “Let’s go, asshole.”

Beckett stared down at his lap and picked up the key ring. He recognized it without having seen it for a few years. “You want me to kick your ass again?” he sneered. If there was anyone he wanted to punch in the face until he heard the satisfying crunch of cartilage, it was himself … and maybe Paul.

Carter remained silent while Jax stomped upstairs.

“Hey! Don’t touch my stuff,” Beckett yelled after him.

Jax returned and threw sneakers at him.

“Put ’em on or we make you put ’em on,” Carter said, arms crossed.