Chapter 38 Beatrice
BEATRICE
It’s easy to forget the identity of the man I’m on a date with when it’s just the two of us.
Until he mentioned that I didn't like his hockey persona, I’d pushed aside the fact that he’s a famous professional athlete.
But the second he grabbed a baseball cap from his glove compartment and pulled it low over his face as we began walking down the promenade not so long ago, everything came crashing back down.
Our date has been perfect. But now, I’m achingly aware of how private it’s been. He planned it all so there was minimal chance of being recognized and photographed.
Unease twists my stomach.
Does he not want to be seen with me?
Everett Donnelly on a date will be hot news, no doubt.
But if—when—we’re spotted together, it won’t only be him being talked about. It’ll be me, too.
Right now, to Everett and those who are in my life, I’m just Beatrice Walsh. But to the world…
“Are you okay?” Everett asks when I slow down and gulp in huge lungfuls of air.
“Uh-huh,” I lie.
Being seen with him means throwing myself—my unborn child—into the public eye. Something I’ve spent my whole life trying to stay away from.
But even if we’re not “together,” he’s still going to drag me along with him. I’m growing his child. He’s always going to be a part of my life, whether I want him there or not.
“Bea?” he questions as he steps in front of me, staring down into my eyes with his brows pinched. “Sweetheart, what’s—”
“I’m okay,” I lie.
He knows it, too. For long seconds, he refuses to back up. Instead, he just watches me, as if he’s waiting for me to break down.
Honestly, he’s not the only one. How I’m not crying right now is a miracle.
“Do you still want waffles?” he asks once my breathing has settled.
“Uh, yes. That’s not in question.”
He chuckles before falling in beside me again. I’ve barely taken a step when his fingers brush against mine, and a heartbeat later, they’re entwined.
A smile twitches at my lips as we silently walk together.
Okay, so maybe he isn’t ashamed of being seen with me. He might be hiding behind a cap, but that’s hardly a disguise.
“Down here,” Everett says, tugging me down a quiet street.
I smell the waffle shop long before I see it. The sweet scent of sugar and chocolate surrounds me, making my stomach growl as if I haven’t eaten all month.
“Once you have one of these waffles, you’ll never go anywhere else,” he tells me as we turn the corner and a pink neon sign illuminates the street ahead of us.
“I’ve tried waffles in almost every state, and none stand up to these.”
“I’m excited,” I breathe as I take in the length of the line to get said waffles. Clearly, this place isn’t just Everett’s secret.
We join the line and turn our backs on the crowd. He steps close enough to me that his body heat sears through my dress, and he ducks his head as if he’s entranced by what I’m saying. Only, I’m silent.
Seconds pass and nothing is said as we patiently wait. I’m so lost to the feeling of him almost pressed up against my side, and the wicked thoughts that continue to flicker through my head, that he startles me when he does speak.
“Would you rather have pancakes or waffles?”
I blink up at him, his question not registering for a few seconds.
“Waffles, obviously.”
His smile confirms that’s the right answer.
He lifts a brow and waits while I catch up and come up with a question of my own.
“Would you rather have a cat or a dog?”
“Dog, obviously.”
I frown. “Why obviously?”
“Oh God, are you a cat person?” he asks in a panic.
“Maybe,” I tease. “Is that a deal breaker for you?”
“I…uh…I mean, it’s not pineapple-on-pizza serious, but it’s a pretty big one.”
“Right, so…pineapple or no pineapple?” I ask, beyond curious.
Everett genuinely looks concerned as he considers his answer.
“P-pineapple,” he finally admits, although it’s with a wince.
“Right,” I muse, trying really hard not to give my own opinions away.
“Bea?” he whispers, begging for my answers.
“Well…I regret to inform you that…I’m also a dog and pineapple person.”
“Yes,” he barks before he wraps me in a hug and spins me around, garnering much more attention than either of us wants.
“Shit, sorry. Got excited,” he confesses sheepishly.
This version of Everett Donnelly is so far removed from the one I met that night.
His ego is nowhere in sight, and his confidence isn’t even close to arrogance.
He’s sweet, and endearing, and funny, and…
well, he’s growing on me a little too quickly.
Our game continues as we make our way toward the counter. If his earlier outburst made anyone recognize him, then they’ve decided to give us our privacy, because no one has interrupted.
“What can I get you?” the girl behind the counter asks. My eyes are firmly locked on the boards above her head, so I initially miss the way she’s checking Everett out.
“Please could I get a—” My words falter when I catch the way she’s gazing at him—like he just hung the moon. Now, don’t get me wrong, the guy is hot as fuck. But drooling, especially while working in a food establishment, really isn’t a good look.
Concerned as to why I’ve stopped, Everett looks at me.
“If you can’t decide, I’d go with the deluxe. It’ll probably be too much, but it’s so good,” he says as if nothing is amiss. Which, I guess in his world, it isn’t. He must get hit on everywhere he goes. It shocks me that Mr. Fuckboy Donnelly misses it, though.
“Okay, baby,” I say as I step closer and wrap my arm around his waist. “I’ll go for that.”
What the fuck are you doing, Beatrice?
Why don't you just hike your dress up and pee on him and stake your claim?
He gives me a double take, but he doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arm around my shoulder, holding me as close as possible while we finish placing our order.
The girl seems to get the message. She taps our order into her screen and Everett pays, just like he has all night, before I even get a chance to offer.
Only a few minutes later, we’re walking out of the small shop with our warm waffles, fully loaded with ice cream, chocolate sauce, marshmallows, and chocolate flakes, in hand.
“This way,” Everett says before leading me back toward the shore.
Thoughts of my ice cream melting make me want to stop right here on the sidewalk and demand we just eat, but I hold in my inner toddler.
The second my ass hits the bench, though, I throw the lid off and dive in.
“Owmygodthisissogood,” I mumble around a mouthful.
When I glance over, I find that Everett hasn’t even opened his. He’s too busy watching me.
“What?” I ask once I’ve swallowed. “Do I have sauce on my chin?”
He shakes his head. “No.”
“Don’t let yours melt. Eat.”
He smirks before turning to his container. I dig back into mine, humming happily when the mix of hot and cold, chocolatey goodness coats my tongue. But as good as it is, it doesn’t distract me from the moment Everett tenses beside me.
“What? What’s wrong?”
He’s staring at something on the other side of his container that I can’t see.
His face is tight, his jaw ticking with…irritation.
But when he turns to me, everything changes, the most dazzling smile lighting up his face.
“You were jealous.”
“W-what?” I stutter as my pulse quickens.
“When you put your arm around me and called me baby. You were jealous.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I mumble before stuffing my mouth with more waffle and ice cream.
“Oh, really?” he teases. “So, what would you say if I said she gave me her number and asked me to call her?”
“What?” I shriek as he produces a napkin with pretty pink scrawl on it.
He chuckles, and it lights a fire under me.
“Call her. I don’t care.”
“Really?” he asks, his attention still zeroed in on me.
“Yep, really. In fact, why don’t you just go back and ask her out in person?”
His laughter gets louder. “You don’t mean that.”
“Don’t I? Go back and see if I care.” Another chuckle. “And while you’re at it, you can stop laughing at me.”
“Sorry, I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Both. You’re too cute.”
With his waffle still untouched, he turns to face me. I flinch when he reaches out and drags his thumb across my bottom lip before sucking the sauce he collected into his own mouth.
I watch his lips wrap around the digit, and fire shoots through my veins.
“I’m not going back for her. I’m not going to call her, either.”
“Why?” The question is out before I can stop it.
“One, because she was too young for me. And two, because I had no interest in her. If she didn’t slip her number into my order, I wouldn’t have even realized she was flirting with me. My head is too full of someone else to notice.”
Me. That’s me. Right?
“I know what I proposed isn’t…normal. And I know it benefits me way more than it does you in the long run. It’s selfish and unfair, and I’m manipulating a situation for my own gain, but I need you to know that if you agree, I’m all in.
“I won’t see anyone else. I won’t disrespect you. I’ll give you everything you want in return—”
“Ask me to marry you?”
His eyebrows shoot so high, I’m surprised they don’t take up permanent residence in his hair. “What?”
I blink, unable to believe I just blurted it out like that. This was not how I envisioned this conversation going.
“What?” I echo, unable to summon up any other words.
“You…” He swallows thickly before dragging his fingers through his hair. “You just asked me to ask you to marry me.” As he says the words, he shakes his head, his brows pinched tightly together.
“Have you ever heard of Walsh and Jefferson?” I ask.
“Uh…”
“They’re a leading law firm on the West Coast.”
“Right?”
“Well, I’m a Walsh.”
“O-okay.” His eyes bounce between mine as if he’s hoping to read all the answers he needs within them.
“Well, I was. I severed all ties with my family when I walked away. I’ve been written out of the family estate and basically disowned.”
Everett’s eyes widen in shock.
“There is only one thing that I can still claim. A trust fund my grandparents on my mother’s side set up that will pay out when I get engaged.”
He nods. He’s clearly heard the words, but I’m not entirely sure he’s fully understanding them.
“If I agree to this to help you out, then that’s what you can do for me in return.”
“Ask you to marry me.”
“Yeah. We don’t actually have to get married. So you dodge that bullet. I just need a ring. I don’t even care if it’s a real diamond or not. I just…getting my hands on that money will really help us,” I say, my hand resting on my belly.
“A ring. Right,” he mutters before turning back to his waffle and demolishing it in record time.
I, however, can’t eat another bite of mine for fear of vomiting it all over my feet.