43. Beau
43
BEAU
Eloise’s beauty strikes me anew in the warm candlelight. The way it illuminates her high cheekbones, the elegant line of her neck, the gentle slope of her nose, those captivating golden eyes that seem to see right through me.
It bathes her in an ethereal glow, which couldn’t be more perfect for her. She seems otherworldly to me in a way that feels profound and powerful.
Ma insisted we set the table with white pillar candles inside hurricane candle holders tonight. It’s definitely to impress the Hawthorne girls, and judging by the bright smile on Viv’s face, it’s totally working.
Ma’s lasagna tastes especially delicious tonight, or fuck, maybe I’m just high on the woman next to me. I can’t tear my gaze from her, though I’m not trying that hard either.
I've never brought a woman home to meet my family before. Never wanted to. Until her.
Under the table, I reach for her hand, lacing our fingers together. She glances over at me, a soft smile playing at her lips. I give her hand a gentle squeeze, hoping she can feel everything I’m not saying out loud. That I’m so fucking glad she’s here with me, that having her by my side feels right in a way I can’t fully explain.
She squeezes my hand back, her smile growing. She leans in close, her voice a whisper meant only for me. “Your family is so nice.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” I murmur back, brushing my thumb over her knuckles. “Both of you.”
Her cheeks flush, and she tilts her head so her hair falls over the side of her face. Vivie drags her into a conversation with Ma about some store downtown.
I’m trying to pay attention, but my mind circles back to last weekend. The interaction with Eloise’s mom doesn’t sit right with me. I don’t care who it is, no one talks to her like that. Not on my fuckin’ watch. It took me out at the knees hearing her ma say those things to her. Lies, gaslighting, and manipulation. It doesn’t matter that it was obviously bullshit.
My girl doesn’t deserve that. No one does.
My call into the family law attorney in Rosewood was promising, but it’s taking too long. And once the inquiry starts, all parties will be notified. I need to make sure all the ducks are in a row before that.
A plan starts to formulate, one that requires a favor from my brother. He’s gonna ask me a hundred questions, but I’ll weather them for her.
Across the table, Cora watches our exchange with a curious tilt of her head. She takes a sip of water, her gaze flicking between Eloise and me.
Graham, sitting on my other side, mutters something under his breath, and I turn just in time to catch the tail end of his smirk.
“What’s that, bro?” I ask, keeping my tone light.
“Nothing.” He spears a piece of garlic bread, his expression unreadable. “Just enjoying . . . whatever this is.”
“Knock it off,” I mutter, but the words lack any real bite.
Across the table, Jagger leans forward, his easygoing grin firmly in place. “So, Eloise, Beau tells us you like to bake. You should stop by Sugar Plum Bakery. Cora’s got about a million recipes she’s always working on.”
Eloise glances at Cora, her expression lighting up. “Oh, is that your bakery?”
My sister’s cheeks redden, but her smile is bright and full. “Yep. I’m working on having it open full-time, but I mostly do custom orders. I’m almost always there.”
“I’ll have to stop by sometime. What have you made recently? Beau said you like to experiment with stuff.”
Cora laughs. “Yeah, sometimes it doesn’t work out, but I love trying new things. Last week I made these lavender honey macarons with a blackberry buttercream filling. They turned out pretty good.”
“They were delicious,” Jagger says, grinning at my sister like the sun rises and sets with her.
Fuck me, did he always look at her like that? I’m genuinely surprised I didn’t see it for what it was earlier. That man is so fucked-up for her, and willingly too.
“Oooh, that sounds amazing,” Eloise says, her eyes widening. “I haven’t really tried experimenting like that.”
Cora leans forward eagerly. “You should come back with me sometime.”
The conversation shifts to baking, and I sit back, watching as Eloise and Cora bond over baking. Their enthusiasm spills over as the rest of us eat.
“She fits right in,” Dad murmurs from his spot at the head of the table.
I glance at him, his gaze steady and knowing. “Yeah,” I say quietly. “She does.”
And that’s when it hits me.
I’m in love with her.
The realization feels like a punch to the chest, knocking the air out of me.
I love Eloise Hawthorne.
Not in the casual way I’ve thrown the word around in the past, but in the bone-deep, forever kind of way.
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath, dragging a hand down my face.
“What’s that?” Graham asks, his brows quirking.
“Nothing,” I say quickly, shaking my head.
But it’s not nothing. It’s fucking everything.
I glance at Eloise, her face animated as she talks to Cora, her hands moving to emphasize a point about layering textures.
Yeah. I fucking love her.
I’ve been waiting for her my whole damn life.
I lean over to Graham while everyone is engaged in conversation, keeping my voice low. “Hey, bro, I need a favor.”
Graham arches an eyebrow, curiosity flashing in his eyes. “What kind of favor?”
“Your favorite kind.”
“This wouldn’t have anything to do with you calling an attorney last week, would it?”
I shake my head, annoyance flaring to life. “Jesus, Graham. Get a fuckin’ hobby and stop hacking people.”
He lifts a shoulder and looks around, probably to make sure no one heard us. But everyone else is engaged in conversation or their food. Besides, no one is looking to make a lot of eye contact with my broody brother, he’s riding that thin line lately.
“That is my hobby.”
“Then get a new one,” I grit through my teeth. “Are you going to help me or not?”
He frowns, his eyes narrowing on his plate for a moment. “Fine. But then I need something from you.”
“Fine, whatever. I need you to expedite something for me and a background check. Pull everything you can. I don’t know if I’ll need it, but I want it in my back pocket just in case.”
Graham’s eyes narrow as he studies my face. “That’s two favors.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Are you serious right now?”
He huffs. “Fine. Who?”
I glance over at Eloise, making sure she’s still absorbed in conversation with Cora before whispering, “Darla Hawthorne.”
His expression evens out, his gaze flicking over my shoulder to my girl next to me. “Consider it done.”
The stitch in my chest eases marginally, knowing my brother is gonna get me everything I need. But I don’t think I’ll be able to breathe freely until it’s taken care of.
The rest of dinner passes in a blur of conversation and laughter, but my mind keeps circling back to her. To us. To what this could be.
Hope and love are dangerous bedfellows.
They roll together, meld and mutate until it’s an invincible, driving force. Until the line between them blurs and they become one all-consuming entity.
Until it burns brighter than the stars.