Cowboy Baby Daddy

“What does it mean, sweetheart?” she asked.

“It means my father was right. He was the better choice to run the company. We work better as a team, side by side. At the very least, he would run it better than I ever could. I don’t want to take the company from him anymore. But, I can’t fix it. I don’t know how to fix it, Daisy. What do I do?” I asked.

“Stella, I don’t know. I don’t know how in the world you can fix something like this except to appear in court. Maybe if you go without a lawyer or something, that might show that you’re serious about giving him the company back, but that also leaves you vulnerable to him ripping everything from you,” she said.

“He can have it,” I said, whispering. “I only want him.”

“Then, I don’t know what to tell you,” she said, shrugging. “I don’t even know what I’d do. Have you eaten?”

“I will later,” I said.

“You will now, and I’m coming with you. Do you still go to that place all the way across town?” she asked. “The restaurant with the really good chocolate pie?”

“You don’t have to take me to eat.”

“If I don’t take you, you won’t go. We’re overstaffed today, so they’ll be fine. Go get in my car.”

“Daisy.”

“Now, Stella,” she said.

And as I walked to her car and hunkered down into the passenger’s seat, I pulled down the mirror in the car and really took a look at myself. I did look bad, and I was honestly shocked I had the energy to even make it to Daisy. My stomach was growling endlessly and my eyes looked glazed over. This was just what I needed. To look like a fucking wreck in court.

I wondered if Christian would even care.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Christian

(One week later)

The courtroom felt ominous. I had gone shopping and picked out a new suit, navy blue with white pinstripes, because the other two suits I had reminded me of Stella. I paired it with a crisp white shirt and a navy tie, then special-ordered a pair of patent leather shoes

in the same navy as my suit. If I was going to appear in court and fight for this job, I was going to be presentable while doing it. I felt like I had lost my home, everything I had sunk my teeth into, and I wasn’t letting go of it easily.

I heard the double doors of the courtroom open, and I turned around to see Stella walking in. My jaw dropped when I looked at her. She appeared surprisingly haggard. Her sunken-in eyes with their dark circles contrasted against her milky white cheeks that were devoid of any rosiness whatsoever. As my eyes drifted around her presence, they stopped at her side.

She didn’t even have a lawyer with her.

It wasn’t until my lawyer jostled me that I could rip my eyes from her. I wanted to know what was going on with Stella. I wanted to know why she wasn’t taking care of herself. I wanted to wrap my arms around her and protect her. To breathe life back into her and tell her it was going to be alright.

Because she did not look alright.

“Miss Harte, are you well enough to have this proceeding?” the judge asked.

And all she did was nod.

“Mr. Gunn, you will have a chance to say your piece about the company,” the judge said.

“Thank you, Your Honor,” I said, standing up. “First of all, thank you for allowing us all to be here today.”

“Get on with it, Mr. Gunn,” the judge said.

“Your Honor, I understand the state of California has laws. Estate laws regarding how property should be allocated and how all property should be allocated before the estate is settled. It has also been explained to me that, while I was family, I was not blood-related, so the estate of my stepfather cannot fall to me because our DNAs don’t match.”

“You are correct,” the judge said.

“What you must understand, Your Honor, is that Charles Harte, my stepfather, was the only father I knew. He raised me from the time I was a small child. He took my mother in, loved both of us in the greatest capacity he knew, and never once called me anything to anyone except ‘his son.’ It didn’t matter to him that he wasn’t my biological father. In his eyes, I was his and solely his.”