Chapter 26 #3
She kissed Clara on the cheek. “We’ll have a date in the morning. Hopefully when we’re all nice and hungover, your dad can cook us bacon and eggs.”
“That sounds perfect!” Clara cheered, having absolutely no idea what a hangover was. I was with her dad on that one—she wouldn’t know for another sixteen years.
I had a vision of Beau and me picking her up from whatever party, putting her to bed with water and painkillers, then making her breakfast. I longed to be there for the slew of firsts Clara had ahead of her.
Calliope stood back up on heels that would’ve broken my ankle, that apparently, she wore even when there was snow on the ground and ample ice to slip on.
“Kiss your man,” she ordered me, covering Clara’s eyes with palms stacked in diamonds. “I’ll protect the child.”
Beau shook his head, smirking, but he surprised me by obeying. In my next breath, his lips were on mine, coaxing my mouth open.
The kiss was nothing radical, but his tongue did slip in for a split second, teasing me with what was to come.
When he let me go, I was already feverish from head to toe, and not just because Calliope was right there, grinning, demonstrating that she’d been unashamedly watching the whole time.
“That’s what I like to see.” She uncovered Clara’s eyes, who was unsurprisingly being a good sport, but when wasn’t she?
When Beau picked Clara up to rest on his hip, I leaned forward to kiss her nose.
“Have fun.” She cupped my cheek with her small hand. “And make sure you get a hangover so Calliope can come for breakfast tomorrow.”
“I’ll do my best,” I giggled.
“Yes, you will,” Beau added pointedly.
I scowled at him because how dare he remind me of sexual promises right in front of his daughter and sister-in-law?
He kissed me again, chastely this time, but my body was already erupting in sensation, expectant for what was to come when I got home.
“Love you,” he murmured.
My muscles constricted. I still hadn’t returned the words, and he hadn’t seemed bothered. But it created tension, especially with spectators.
Calliope saved the day.
“Yeah, yeah. It’s a modern-day love story, cute and everything, but booze won’t drink itself.” She grabbed my arm with astonishing strength and dragged me away.
Beau and Clara waved me off.
My heart hurt just a little, leaving them, but less so knowing I would come back home.
Home.
Because that’s what they were.
“Beau’s probably going to fuck this up,” Calliope said as soon as she reversed out of the driveway.
Her car was so fancy I was afraid to touch anything. She was an aggressive driver. She kept to the speed limit on the family streets, but her car vibrated with a low purr that told me it had a lot of horsepower.
I glanced at her profile, surprised by her words, dread building in my stomach.
“He’s a masochist, an alpha, a grumpy bastard.” She listed the qualities off on red-tipped fingers. “But he’s also a good man. And he’ll talk himself into all sorts of bullshit circles that had you two dancing around each other so long in the first place.”
It didn’t astound me how perceptive Calliope was, but it did surprise me that she had been paying so much attention to us.
“It was that obvious?” I felt sheepish, embarrassed.
“He all but thumped his chest and yelled ‘mine’ whenever you were around.” She rolled her eyes good-naturedly.
“But he let misplaced nobility get in the way, which I don’t doubt he’ll do at some point again.
I’m not here to make excuses for men. In fact, I hate making excuses for men. I prefer ruining their lives.”
I smiled at her words, not doubting them for a second. I let myself wonder, not for the first time, what Calliope’s life was like. She was an enigma to me. Powerful, obviously rich, ruthless. But also sweet and patient with Clara. In love with the most carefree man I’d ever met.
“Beau can have some leeway because of his past, and because he dragged me out of an ocean and saved my life, blah, blah, blah.” She flicked her wrist dismissively.
“If I’m wrong, which I rarely am, he may not fuck it up, you may live happily ever after without any messy hiccups.
” She glanced sideways at me as we reached a stop sign.
“But real love is always messy with a lot of hiccups. It’d be boring otherwise, wouldn’t it? ”
I wasn’t sure I agreed with her but nodded anyway.
“It’s my heads-up. When Beau tries to fuck things up ‘for your own good’ or whatever the fuck, don’t let him. You’re stronger than him. Women always are.”
She roared off before I could reply, leaving me to stew on it for the rest of the drive.
I followed Beau’s instructions and got drunk.
Not that it was hard. My glass was never empty, as there was always someone around to fill it.
Most notably Fiona, who wasn’t drinking herself—because she was pregnant and had indeed done it “the old-fashioned way.”
It hadn’t happened the night I was drinking with them; it took a little longer, and she was very early but quite obviously excited.
And fielding texts from her quite obviously overprotective husband all night.
All the husbands were overprotective, from the stories I’d heard. And man, were they some stories. Overprotective, yes. But not controlling.
It was clear that I was invited tonight because everyone, like Calliope, had seen the writing on the wall with Beau and I, and had, apparently, been quietly rooting for us.
The attention, while good-natured, felt overwhelming. I was not used to being in the spotlight, so getting pleasantly buzzed on champagne felt like the right call.
Not that the night was purely about me—thank god. There was Fiona’s pregnancy announcement, Nora’s bakery being featured in a huge magazine spread, and Avery’s restaurant being awarded a Michelin star. All the women celebrated each other passionately and without effort.
It felt nice to be a part of it.
I still felt on the outside, though. Like I didn’t quite belong. It was one place I did feel the age gap that Beau was so focused on. They weren’t quite Beau’s age, but they were all more accomplished than me, both personally and professionally.
Lori’s absence didn’t help any. She’d told me she was on a “retreat” away from her family drama and Finn drama. She needed it. But I selfishly wanted her here.
I was amused to learn from the women that Finn had been all but stomping around town with a scowl since she left.
“He even tried to give me a speeding ticket,” Calliope snickered.
I didn’t doubt she’d deserved it.
“Tried?” Nora questioned.
Calliope sipped her champagne. “I mean, I tore it up the second he handed it to me. That didn’t help his mood either.”
The women erupted in laughter, which I felt myself doing too, without effort.
Champagne made it easy to laugh, to push away my doubts about whether I belonged.
Which meant I did arrive home more or less in the same state than I had months ago.
Though Elliot, as promised, had driven me home with Calliope in the front. I’d been happy to listen to them speak the whole drive, their banter amusing and obviously well honed.
Elliot even walked me to the front door, graciously helping me with my keys so I didn’t have the same debacle as last time.
“Night.” He kissed me on the cheek in a way that felt fraternal—even though my own brother had never engaged in such displays of affection in our adulthood. “Thank you.” Elliot squeezed my hands. “Thank you for helping make my brother happy.”
“You’re … welcome?” I replied, instead of trying to argue with him. I wasn’t equipped for the emotion of that moment. I’d never been part of a true family. I didn’t know how to act.
Elliot gave me a knowing smile before he jogged back to the car.
The house was dim when I entered. Beau had left the porch light on for me, and faint luminescence from the lamp in the corner spilled into the living room.
Slowly, without falling, I deposited my keys and jacket at the door. My heart crashed when I felt rather than saw Beau’s presence.
The air became heavier, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end as my skin prickled with delightful excitement.
Nerves fluttered in my stomach. Anxiety, but the good kind.
“Hands and knees.”
The low, barked command cut through the thick silence that had descended after the sounds of my clattering keys and rustling coat had subsided.
Though there was a champagne haze in my mind, I didn’t hesitate to obey. The floor was cold against my palms.
“Crawl. To me.”
Again, I shivered at the roughness in which he spoke. It might’ve sounded cold to an outside observer, but my skin was already beading with sweat. Expectation.
Excitement.
I hadn’t even fully seen him yet, just heard the rough timbre of his words, smelled the faint hint of his scent.
I followed his voice, crawling through the living room to where he was seated in the armchair. I looked at his legs, spread to showcase his thick thighs and the cock I knew was already rock-hard. For me.
“Look at me.”
I fluttered my lashes and craned my head, almost panting from my spot on the floor. It was another act that should’ve been derogatory. It should’ve made me feel dirty. Used.
But as with anything with Beau, I merely felt powerful, that I was special. I was his. And he was content to watch me crawl to him.
His body seemed to be cut from marble, for how still he was sitting. His eyes, which were just visible in the soft light, were intent on me. They were yearning. Marveling.
“Perfect,” he uttered in a guttural growl. “Come here.”
Again, my body obeyed him before my mind had even truly caught up with his words.
I was crawling up his body like I hadn’t just seen him a handful of hours ago. Like I didn’t sleep in his bed every night.
I felt a crazed desperation for our skin to be pressed together, to wrap myself around him.