Must Be Wright (The Wrights 3)

Wyatt’s brain kept misfiring. He couldn’t think straight. “Could we force Francie back here legally? Then get her medical help? Therapy? Maybe we can move her family to the States too. Or arrange for Francie to go see her family every couple of months or something. I’ll pay for everything.”

“This isn’t a matter of money,” Larkin said. “If it were, this would be infinitely easier for everyone. There’s no way to force Francie back to the States. She hasn’t committed any crime, so there wouldn’t be any extradition available.”

“Abandoning your daughter isn’t a crime?”

“She made arrangements,” Larkin said. “She may not have told you about those arrangements, but she didn’t leave Belle on the street. You could certainly try to get in contact and try to convince her, but she wouldn’t tell me where her family lived in Colombia. It would take quite a bit of research to find her, and even then, based on how adamant she was about leaving, I doubt you could do anything to change her mind.”

Wyatt’s heart pounded so hard, he couldn’t hear himself think. “I’m sorry. I’m still not clear on this guardianship thing. If she was going to leave Belle permanently, wouldn’t she have given us custody of her or signed over her parental rights or something? Isn’t guardianship a temporary thing? Like, giving someone permission to get her medical care in an emergency?”

“You’re talking about temporary guardianship. This is permanent guardianship. It does exactly what you’re describing—it gives you full custody of Belle. You would have the legal right to make all decisions for Belle’s care. Not just medical care, but all care. In the eyes of the law, you are now her parent and have every right a biological parent would have.”

Parent? Parent?

“Which also means,” Larkin went on, “if Francie ever did come back, nothing would change. You would still have full custody of Belle, and you would decide whether or not it was in Belle’s best interest to have contact with Francie. Signing these papers makes her, essentially, your daughter.”

Jesus Christ. This just got seriously real.

“And Francie understood that?”

Larkin nodded. “We went over it in depth several times.”

Panic turned to chaos. “What happens if I don’t sign the papers? What if I say no?”

Larkin sighed and sat back in his chair, a concerned frown adding vertical lines between his eyes. “The state would start going through next of kin, trying to place her. From what I understand, the only others left would be your parents. If they won’t take her, Belle will become a ward of the state and be put into foster care. If your parents want custody, they’ll have to go through the courts, and Belle would remain in foster care until a ruling is made. That could take months.”

Wyatt hadn’t heard anything past “ward of the state” and “foster care.”

All the chaos inside him solidified into rock-solid commitment. Fuck foster care. This was his brother’s kid. And there was no way his parents could keep up with Belle.

He pushed to his feet and faced the desk. “Where do I sign?”

8

Gypsy was a goddamned sucker.

As her third candidate for the manager position told Gypsy about her education—a degree in hospitality management from freaking Cornell, for God’s sake—Gypsy glanced toward the bar’s front door.

When would she ever learn? Wyatt had been gone nearly three hours, and Belle had gotten bored of hanging with Gypsy within thirty minutes. It seemed that things good enough to occupy a three-year-old did nothing for a five-year-old. And since Wyatt hadn’t returned when he said he would, Gypsy had no choice but to bring the girl to the bar for interviews that were already scheduled. She absolutely could not put off finding a manager even another day.

God, she felt like an idiot for trusting him to be back on time.

“I’ve managed four different clubs,” Caity told Gypsy. “Most recently the top two clubs in Boston. And, honestly, neither owner was interested in any part of the business other than rubbing elbows with their clients.”

“Why did you quit?”

This came from Belle, who was sitting with them, elbow on the table, chin in her hand, feet swinging. She was an extrovert, no doubt, and she’d been riveted to the interviews from the beginning. Gypsy had tried everything she could to distract Belle, but in the end, the girl had proved to be quite the little investigator, getting away with questions like “Are you married?” and “Do you have kids” when Gypsy couldn’t. At least not legally.

Caity glanced at Belle, then back to Gypsy. It was a valid question, one Belle had obviously picked up from prior interviews, so Gypsy just smiled and waited for an answer.

“I um…” Caity glanced at Belle, then Gypsy again. “The activities there weren’t always aboveboard, if you know what I mean. The hip-hop scene can get pretty, um…”

“Dirty,” Gypsy finished for Caity. The woman got points for her careful choice of words in front of Belle. She chalked up a few more for walking away from the illegal, unethical activity. But she did have a bit of snobbiness Gypsy hoped stemmed from nerves. “I’ve been there. Worked at Moon Cat in Miami before I bought this bar.”

“Oh, wow,” Caity said, impressed. “That’s quite the renowned club.”

“Unfortunately, not for its aboveboard activities.”

“Right.”