I attempt to bend down enough so the baby can see inside the window on the oven door. My knees crack—of course—and my back lets out a silent yelp as I pop into an awkward half-squat thing.
I groan. Maisie giggles, pounding her little palm on the door. I grab it and wrap it in my own, giving it a quick kiss.
“Careful. That’s hot.”
My back is screaming now.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” I say, grabbing onto the oven door handle to hoist myself back up. “Uncle Beau is an old man.”
Bel moseys on over to us, smiling up at the baby. “Like she cares. Look at her, Beau. She adores you.”
“Is that right?” I hoist her above my head and airplane her around the kitchen. She goes wild, letting out this grunting giggle thing that is so scrumptious I have to laugh.
“It’s not always easy to make her happy. But when she’s in the right mood, it’s very easy to make her smile.” Bel looks at me and grins. “Kinda lightens the mood, doesn’t it?”
“It really does.”
I mean that. I’d forgotten what having a baby around is like.
It’s nice.
“Reminds me of our house growing up,” I say. “There was always a baby crying, but then there was always a baby giggling, too. Probably because the giggling baby beat up the crying one.”
Annabel laughs and rests her head on my shoulder. Like we’ve been at this forever, the two and a half of us playing house.
“Sounds about right,” she says.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Annabel
I don’t know how he manages it.
But each day I spend with Beau gets better and better.
I thought our bonfire dancing session was peak life. You know, those moments when you’re flooded by that feeling of wholeness Beau and I talked about.
Then he saved me from single-mom dinner hell, and the bar was set higher.
The afternoon cooking lesson, even higher.
But this? Waking up with my best friend in my bed, drinking coffee with him while he loves up on my baby, working my way through my second helping of the most delicious blackberry bread pudding on earth?
It’s only downhill from here, because this is heaven.
And maybe it feels that way because I know it’s ending. There’s a bittersweetness to it.
I try to focus on the sweet parts. The tasty, weapons-grade coffee. The friendship that’s fast forming between Maisie and Beau.
The steady beat between my thighs. I’m sore, but that isn’t stopping me from wanting a repeat of last night’s amazing sex.
But the bitter, it’s there. I want to accept it with grace, like the good, rational adult I am, but it’s hard. Because if I could just get Beau to change his mind—if I could just make him see—
That’s not my place, though. Even if I could, making a relationship work would be a dicey proposition at best. Between the hours I work and being a single mom, I’m not sure how I could pull it off. Especially long distance.
I can tell myself until I’m blue in the face that Beau and I aren’t meant to be.
My heart, however, has yet to get the memo. Especially when it sees the two most important people in my life making each other giggle.
Which is probably why I invite Beau to take a stroll with Maisie and me after breakfast. I love having him around.
I also love having the help.
If we only have the better part of two weeks together, I’m going to milk the shit out of them. Enjoy the time while I can.
“It’s a good time of day for the baby and me to get out,” I explain. “I’ve been trying to get regular walks and sunshine in. It helps me mentally.”
I’m pleasantly surprised when he agrees. He makes a couple of phone calls while I get ready, then helps me get Maisie and her stroller outside.
“Where to?” I ask.
Beau grabs the stroller—of course—and heads right on the road. It leads away from the main house and the rest of the resort.
“I’ve never been this way.” I slip my hand between his elbow and side. He firms his bicep, holding my hand there. “Hank told me my house was the resort’s eastern boundary.”
Beau keeps his eyes on the road in front of us. It disappears into a leafy tunnel of green up ahead.
“Hank’s right. We own this side of the mountain, but we haven’t developed it yet.”
“Ah. Are we allowed back there?”
“Not technically, no.” At last, he looks at me and grins. “But since you’re sleeping with the owner, we’ll make an exception.”
We walk for a half mile or so in companionable silence. The morning is calm and clear, a hint of the summer warmth to come in the air. Beau pushes the stroller up a hill, then down another as Maisie gazes thoughtfully at the world around her.
Beau points out a hawk, then a squirrel. He says the name of each animal slowly. Maisie is rapt, watching his lips move.
There’s a flutter inside my stomach.
Happiness.
Holy hell, I’m feeling it. Again.
It only lasts a minute. But as we crest yet another hill, the sun in my eyes and on my face, I imagine that a sun’s starting to rise in me.
Saying a little prayer of gratitude for the gifts of Zoloft and a friend who bakes, loves my baby, and is great in bed, I let my mind wander.
It wanders to my job. And how the idea of returning to it makes me feel…not great.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Beau says.
I shake my head. “I was thinking about the bank, actually. My career.”
“What about it?”
“I like my job. I’ve built a solid career at a firm that seems to value what I bring to the table. It’s just—I don’t know. Something’s changed in me since I had Maisie. The fire I had to climb the corporate ladder doesn’t burn nearly as brightly. Granted, that could have something to do with my depression, but deep down, I don’t think it does. I still have ambitions, big ambitions…just not for that kind of future, I guess.”
“That second act you’ve always talked about. Maybe it’s time to start thinking about it more seriously.”
Curling my arm around his—holy shit, I still can’t get over how cool it is that I get to do this—I nod. “I think you’re right. Only thing is, I have no clue where to start.”
“Might be one of those things that just needs to fall into your lap.”
“The striver in me doesn’t buy that idea.”
Beau shrugs. “Think about it as a balance, then. Do your homework. Hit up your network. When the timing is good, the right opportunity will come.”
“Maybe,” I say.
“Definitely,” he replies.
My heart does a neat little backflip when a wide clearing opens up to our right. Smack dab in the middle of it stands a white farmhouse.
It’s gorgeous. Perfectly proportioned with a wide front porch, Victorian detailing around the eaves, and a tin roof. It looks worse for the wear. One of the windows is boarded up, and the roof is littered with branches and dead leaves. But its charm still shines through.
Huge oak trees surround it. The flower beds have been tended to, and by the scent of grass that hangs heavy in the air, I can tell the lawn’s recently been mowed.
I get that feeling again, the one I got driving up to the resort for the first time.
That feeling of summer.
Without thinking, I squeeze Beau’s arm. “This is yours?”
“It’s the house I grew up in.”
Something rough and quiet in his voice makes me glance up at him.
He’s stone faced. His features carefully schooled into a neutral expression. But his eyes are wet, and they give him away.
“This is where you were born.”
“Yep.”
“Where all of you were born.”
He nods.
“And where your daddy—”
“Yes.” Beau swallows. His knuckles on the stroller handle are white. Another tell of his I never n
oticed until recently. “They brought him back here for the viewing after he…”
I glide my hand up to his shoulder and give it a squeeze. “I’m so sorry.”
Beau looks down, shaking his head. “I have a lot of great memories of this house. Our childhood was pretty damn magical. Mama was a miracle worker. And Daddy, when he was well, he was a kind, good man. And then it all just kind of blew up. One Christmas he was fine, and by Easter, he wasn’t.”
Maisie is watching us, squinting against the sun that slants into the stroller.
Beau looks up at me meaningfully.
The kind of look that turns me inside out.
The confession kiss—that was nothing compared to this.
“Were you ever going to restore it?” I try. I need to keep him talking before I lose him. “The house?”
Beau shrugs. “We’ve got plans to turn this part of the mountain into this whole complex. A bigger spa, some tennis courts maybe. Nature trails. But I can’t bring myself to pull the trigger. Part of me thinks I should just bulldoze the house and build over it. But another part… I guess I like having the reminder. So I haven’t touched it.”
I see.
I see the house for what it is.
I see what’s happening here, and it’s breaking my heart.
A lump forms in my throat. This place has ghosts. The ghost of my future, and the ghosts of Beau’s past.
But maybe—
Maybe we have something to learn from those ghosts.
Maybe they have something important to teach us.
“None of you wanted to live in it?” I ask.
“Milly mentioned it a few times, but when I had the plans for her new house drawn up, she dropped the idea. My brothers…this isn’t nearly fancy enough for them. An eight-room farmhouse? Could you imagine fancy-schmancy Samuel living here?”
I laugh, the lump swelling. “I guess not.”
“Funny, but when we were little, the house felt huge. We’d play hide and seek for hours and still not find each other.” His gaze flicks to Maisie. “I loved growing up here.”
“I can see that.” My turn to swallow. “Seems like a great place to raise a family.”
He turns his head to look at me. His handsomeness is piercing. The perfect, masculine proportions of his face. The imperfect scruff of his beard. The way the sun catches on his eyelashes, giving them a reddish hue. Same as that beard.
“If I was ever going to do it, I would’ve wanted to do it with you, Bel. Right here, in the house I called home.”
Tears press against the backs of my eyes. The burn makes me blink, hard.
The words are on the tip of my tongue. Don’t give up on that dream. Give us a chance. Our story can be different.
But what can I say that I haven’t already? We’ve been over this a hundred times. And each time, Beau shoots me down. I want to tell him we’ll make this house a home again. A haven for both of us. For Maisie, and—
I draw a shaky breath, wiping my eyes. Beau doesn’t say anything. He just kisses the top of my head, his lips lingering on my hair a beat too long.
Maisie starts to fuss. Saved by the baby.
“We should get back,” I say. “She’s getting hungry.”
Mom doesn’t get home till late.
Very late. She arrives, eyes bright and face flushed, and I wish Beau were here so I could exchange a meaningful slash grossed-out look with him.
“Hey, sweetheart!” She greets me with a kiss and a tight hug, then glances at the monitor. “She go down okay?”
I pull back, a little bewildered. “Yep. Down at seven on the dot. You look…refreshed.”
“I had the loveliest afternoon.” Mom grabs a bottle of flavored water from the fridge and pours us each a glass. “Larry and I went horseback riding on these trails around the mountain. Our guide was amazing.”
I sip my water. “Sounds nice.”
“And then we took a pastry class where we learned how to make chocolate croissants.” Mom is beaming. “It was way too much work, so I’ll probably never make them again. But Larry, he had me laughing so hard. Have you noticed he looks like—”
“Robert Redford?” I take another sip of water. “Yep.”
She sighs, glancing out the windows behind the kitchen table. “Such a stud. He’s a great kisser, too.”
I’m gulping my water now, not for the first time wishing it were something stronger. I miss wine. “I’m happy for you, Mom. But can we agree to, uh, draw the line there? Anything past that and I’m going to have to charge you with oversharing.”
“Of course. Sorry. I just—I don’t know what it is about Blue Mountain, but it’s so easy to get carried away up here, isn’t it?”
An understatement if there ever were one.
“I know what you mean,” I say. “Must be something in the water.”
Mom blinks, waking up from her Robert Redford stupor, and glances around. “Where’s Beau?”
“He left earlier this morning.” I look down at my glass. “We both had things to do, so…”
“How’d it go? I bet the picnic he brought over was divine.”
Ugh, there’s that lump in my throat again. “It was great. We had a great time.”
Mom’s smile fades, and her brow creases. “Is all not well in paradise?”
How to explain that we had paradise all night and then again all morning?
We had it, agreeing that I’d stay at the resort for much longer than I initially planned, until Beau took me to his childhood home. He clammed up after that and hightailed it back to his place, making some bullshit excuse about helping Milly with a big celebrity wedding she’s doing.
If there’s anything I know about Milly, it’s that she can handle her own shit. She’s a pistol, and I couldn’t adore her more.
She’s been like family to me over the years. All the Beauregard kids have. It’d be so, so cool to have them as my actual family.
I do my best to drop kick that idea from my head as soon as it appears, but it’s hard.
The lump in my throat rises until I can hardly breathe around it.
I tell Mom everything. Earlier, Beau gave me permission to tell her about his diagnosis.
I talk about that, and I talk about our depression. I tell her about the farmhouse, the cooking lesson, the bonfire.
I do leave out the lube and the naked parts. But she gets the picture.
I’m in love with a man I can’t have.
“Aw, honey, I’m so sorry.” Mom rubs my back. “I know you want things to work out with Beau. He’s a stand-up man and cute as all get-out, too.”
“Not helping,” I grind out, wiping the tears from my eyes. “Sorry I’m crying. Again. I know my life has been one nonstop tear fest for the past, oh, year or so.”
Mom pads over to the sink and tears off a sheet from the roll of paper towels, then hands it to me. “Never apologize for your feelings. You’ve had a tough time of it, Annabel. It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to be heartbroken over something not working out.”
“That’s just it.” I hold the paper towel to my eye. “It is working out. Beautifully. When Beau and I are together, it’s magic. It’s when we visit the bigger picture that shit hits the fan. We decided we’d try to enjoy the time we have, but—yeah. Not easy.”
Mom smooths back my hair, tucking it behind my ear. “Well. As much as I hate to say this, maybe the bigger picture, where y’all end up together, is not meant to be. You’ve got a lot going on as it is. You’ll be heading back to work full-time soon, and Maisie will be spending her days with someone new. It will be a big adjustment for the both of you and very intense for a while. Maybe this break is exactly that: a break from the pressure you’ve felt. A chance to recharge your batteries and take a deep breath so you can go back to Charlotte ready to tackle the rest of your life. See? It may feel like the end of the world right now, but it could also be just what you need to keep going. Because—and I’ll let you in on a little secret here—that’s wh
at the majority of parenthood is: putting one foot in front of the other. That’s all you have to do. And if hanging out with Beau for a couple of weeks is going to help you do that in the months and years to come, well…it’s not a total loss, is it?”
It’s a crushing blow when Maisie wakes up not once, but twice that night.
Just when you think you’ve got it down, they throw you a curveball.
Then again, I wasn’t exactly sleeping all that great anyway, so the one and three AM wake-up calls aren’t as hellacious as usual.
I’m too busy thinking about Beau and what Mom said.
The idea of going back to Charlotte alone—without Beau—is depressing.
But that’s just it. I won’t be alone. I have a daughter now. My own family. Mom is there, too, as is my proverbial village. I’ll get back in the groove there, seeing friends, walking around my neighborhood, visiting my favorite shops and restaurants.
My life is waiting for me.
I have to keep going.
Rocking Maisie to sleep for the second time in as many hours, I randomly feel a rush of love for her. It comes out of nowhere and it kind of stuns me, considering I’ve been battling this sense of disappointment all day.
Mom was right. Being here on the farm, having the time to heal and take a deep breath before I dive back into the deep end, is helping.
The Zoloft and the food and the time with Beau are helping.
Leaving him is going to hurt. But deep down, now I know I’ll be happy again. Eventually. May take a while. Hell, it may take months. A year.
But I’ll get there.
It will be me and Maisie against the world.
And for the first time in forever, I’m realizing just how much fight I’ve got left in me.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Beau
“Pull.”
The clay disc arcs through the air. Stance steady, rifle pressed to my cheek, I wait. One heartbeat.
Another.
I wait until it feels right, then I squeeze the trigger.
I absorb the kickback with well-practiced ease, leaning into it. The clay shatters with a neat crack that echoes across the forest around us.
Southern Seducer: A Best Friends to Lovers Romance Page 22
