42. Eloise
42
ELOISE
I follow Beau up the stone walkway, Vivie’s hand firmly in mine, and try not to let my nerves show. His parents’ house is gorgeous—two stories of colonial charm, with a wraparound porch and flowerbeds so full of life it feels like stepping into a painting.
Since the bookstore last weekend, Beau and I have found every opportunity to be together, even if it’s just for a stolen hour here and there. I was out on a recon job for a day and a half, and even though I was tempted to have him meet me somewhere, I’m trying my best to keep my work with Seven Pines separate from my relationship with Beau.
Surprisingly, we haven’t talked a lot about our jobs. When we do sneak in time together, we’ve been a little preoccupied . Namely, him trying to see how many times he can make me come, and me just trying to stay tethered to this earth when he succeeds.
Every. Single. Time.
I’ve never been more exhausted or happy in my entire life. It’s a weird combination, but I’m not mad at it.
When Beau first invited Vivie and me to Sunday dinner with his family, I thought we were moving way too fast. We’ve only been together a few weeks, and meeting the parents feels like a huge step. But he assured me Sunday dinners are a casual, weekly tradition.
Still, as we approach the front door, vivid purple irises and pink peonies swaying gently on either side of the stone path, my stomach flutters with nerves.
Vivie’s head tilts up, her gaze wide as she takes it all in. “This is their house?” she whispers, her voice a mix of awe and disbelief. “It looks like Gilmore Girls or something.”
“Yeah.” I squeeze her hand, feeling a bit of the same wonder myself. “Wait. How do you know Gilmore Girls ?”
“Margot watches it a lot,” she says with a shrug, like that explains everything.
I’ve never done this, never met a boyfriend’s parents, never sat at a big family dinner like this.
Is Beau even my boyfriend ?
Boyfriend feels like such a small word to slap on Beau, though. The man makes me feel things I don’t have words for yet, but boyfriend? It doesn’t feel big enough.
He made his declaration in the bookstore pretty clear, so maybe I’ll just follow his lead and call him mine .
My heart flutters a little at the thought. I don’t know if anything has ever been mine before.
“You okay?” Beau murmurs, reaching for my hand.
“Yeah,” I lie, forcing a smile. “Just tired.”
He presses a quick kiss to the top of my head, his warmth a steady anchor against my rising anxiety. “It’s just Sunday dinner. Don’t worry, baby, I’ve got you.”
The front door swings open before we can knock, and an older man stands in the doorway, his smile warm and welcoming.
“Dad,” Beau greets. He leans in to accept his father’s embrace without letting go of my hand.
His hair is similar, but not quite the same burnished dark blond as Beau’s. Gray streaks along his temples and deep laugh lines around his eyes, like he’s spent a lot of his life laughing.
That thought alone makes me feel warm. I steal a glance at Beau, wondering not for the first time what makes him so easy-going. Though now that I’ve seen his dad, maybe it’s not such a mystery.
“Good to see you, son,” his dad says, patting Beau’s back. “Why don’t you introduce me to tonight’s guests?”
Beau tugs on our joined hands, pulling me a half-step closer to him. “This is Eloise and her sister, Vivie.”
“Pleasure to meet you both,” his dad says, extending his hand. “I’m Lucas.”
I untangle my hand from Vivie’s and clasp Lucas’s outstretched one, but Beau doesn’t let go of my other hand. His grip remains firm and reassuring, a silent support I didn’t even realize I needed until this moment.
“It’s wonderful to meet you too,” I say, hoping my voice doesn’t betray the nervousness fluttering in my stomach. “You have a beautiful garden.”
He grins, sending Beau a sneaky wink. “Thank you, Eloise. It’s my wife’s pride and joy. She spends too many days out here playin’ in the dirt. Wait until you see the backyard. Beau helped her build out a greenhouse.”
My brows lift as I look at him. Delight shimmers across my breastbone when I spot the pink flush to his cheeks.
“Who knew you were so handy, hm?” I tease, enjoying the glimpse of this side of him far too much.
He shrugs it off. “It was nothing.”
Lucas laughs. “Don’t let him fool you. There are more flower beds than grass back there now.”
“I’ve never been inside a greenhouse before,” Vivie says, nose scrunching a little. “But I’ve read they’re hot. Is yours temperature controlled?”
Lucas’s grin widens, and he looks at my sister. “Tell you what, I’ll give you the grand tour after dinner.”
She rocks forward on her heels, her curiosity officially piqued. “Absolutely.”
Lucas dips his head in a single nod. “It’s a date. Come on in. Mom’s got dinner just about ready, and the gang’s all here. I’ll go grab everyone from the living room, give you a chance to say hello to Mom.”
“Alright, Dad,” Beau says, leading us into his parents’ house. His dad turns right, and Beau heads straight.
Family photographs spanning decades line the hallway, a time capsule of the Carter family. My feet slow without my permission when I spot a particularly cute photo.
Beau looks like he’s five or six, and he’s standing on the hood of an old 50s Chevy, grinning like a loon with his top front teeth missing. There’s an older man, his grandpa maybe, standing behind him with a matching grin, one hand on Beau’s shoulder.
My heart squeezes at the pure joy on young Beau’s face, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief even then. “Is this your grandpa?” I ask softly, pointing to the photo.
Beau leans in, his breath warm against my cheek as he looks at the photo. “Yeah, that’s Grandpa Dalton. He passed away when I was younger, but he’s the one who got me into cars. We used to spend hours in his garage tinkering with that old Chevy.”
There’s a wistful note in his voice, that fateful blend of grief, love, and nostalgia.
“C’mon, Peach. Let me introduce you to my mom.” He tugs me down the hallway, even though I haven’t had a chance to look at everything yet.
The smell of something cheesy and rich wraps around me the moment we step into the kitchen, warm and inviting. But the knots in my stomach double when I see his mom in front of the stove.
“Hey, Ma.”
She spins around, surprise lighting up her face when her gaze lands on me. “Beau! I didn’t know you were bringing anyone tonight.”
She’s stunning. Long dark brunette hair wrapped into an elegant chignon at the back of her head, high cheekbones, and a youthful face.
I cut him a glare, lowering my voice and whispering, “I thought you said we were invited.”
The back of my scalp itches with discomfort and it takes everything I have not to take my sister and walk right back out of this house. I can do a lot of things, but interloping on a family dinner isn’t one of them.
Beau throws his arm around my neck, gently tugging me into his chest. He drops a kiss to the top of my head and murmurs, “Relax, Peach. You’re invited. They’ve been asking about you for weeks.”
I look up at him, aware of his mom’s gaze on us. Surprise lifts the corner of my mouth. “Weeks?”
“Now I know I raised you with better manners than that. Introduce us,” his mom mutters. I can hear the disproving tone across the kitchen.
Beau chuckles, giving my shoulders a gentle squeeze before releasing me. “Ma, this is my Eloise. And this is her sister Vivie. Eloise, Vivie, this is my mom, Hazel Carter.”
Mrs. Carter wipes her hands on the blue apron tied around her waist and steps forward, her eyes warm and assessing as they skim over me. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Eloise. Beau’s told us almost nothing about you.”
A stuttered laugh spills free as she envelops me in a hug. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Carter. Thank you for having us.”
She steps back and grins, her eyes sparkling the same way her son’s do. “Please, call me Hazel.”
I dip my chin in acknowledgement. “You have a beautiful home, Hazel.”
She tsks, sending Beau a sly smile. “And she’s kind too.”
Beau chuckles, his hand resting at the small of my back. “It’s one of her many talents.”
Hazel turns her attention to Vivie, who is standing slightly behind me, observing the interaction with curious eyes. “And you must be Vivie. It’s so nice to meet you, sweetheart.”
Vivie smiles shyly. “It’s nice to meet you, too. Thank you for inviting us to dinner.”
I want to high five my sister for her impeccable manners. I told her earlier to make sure she thanks Beau’s parents, but I shouldn’t have even worried.
“Of course! The more the merrier. I hope you like lasagna.” Hazel says.
“Do you need help with anything?” I offer, glancing around the kitchen.
The island is busy: water glasses lined up on the island, a stack of fabric napkins, two different sizes of plates. A massive lasagna sits cooling on the stove, the cheese bubbling around the edges. Garlic bread steams in a basket next to the stove, its buttery, herby scent mixing with the tang of marinara. There’s a lively, welcoming energy here that I’ve never experienced before. Not like this. The closest thing I’ve had was make-your-own-pizza nights with my sisters, and even that feels pale in comparison.
“Oh, no. We’ve got it, thank you though. Beau, why don’t you show Eloise and Vivie to the table? We’re ready to eat.”
“Sure thing, Ma.” Beau steers me out of the kitchen. “C’mon, Peach. Let me show you the dining room. I’ll even slow down by that photo of me you were eyeballing earlier.” He smirks, huffing a laugh.
I roll my eyes. “I wasn’t even looking at you. I was checking out the dirt bike.” It’s a lie. I was looking at college-age bare-chested Beau, back before he had all his tattoos.
Beau throws his head back in a hearty laugh, the rich sound echoing off the walls and filling the hallway with warmth. “Sure you were, Peach. I believe you.” His tone drips with amused sarcasm.
I can't help but giggle along with him, his infectious joy impossible to resist. There's something about being here, in his childhood home surrounded by snapshots of his life, that makes me feel closer to him. Like I'm being let in on a secret, piece by piece.
We make our way down the hall, Beau’s hand never leaving the small of my back.