Chapter 4
MAE
“Mae?” My mom’s voice accompanied her knock at my door.
“Come in,” I yelled from the small bathroom adjacent to my bedroom, as best I could with a mouth full of toothpaste.
It had been a rough morning. After drinking way too much with Jules, I’d passed out at her house and only stumbled into my own a half hour ago.
Showering and changing into my favorite old sweats and tee, I felt marginally better than I had twenty-four hours ago, flying across the Atlantic with my tail between my legs.
Closer to thirty than twenty. No job. No fiancé. No future plans, back in my parents’ home.
Yeah, maybe not all that much better.
“Hey, sweetie. Beck’s downstairs. Should I send him up?”
Spitting out toothpaste and rinsing my mouth, I proceeded to brush my hair.
“Sh—” I caught myself. “Shoot. I never texted him back. Yeah, tell him to come up.”
“I’ll make some extra eggs. Does he still only eat them with cheese?”
Good question. “I think so, yeah. Knowing him.”
Beck ate like a twelve-year-old boy. It had always been a joke between us, me getting him to try new things and Beck resisting.
In my opinion, it was just one more way to give his parents the middle finger.
He lived to embody the opposite of pretentious, of everything he thought they stood for, to a fault.
I finished brushing and braiding my wet hair, bending down to grab the brush I’d knocked onto the floor.
When I stood up, my reflection wasn’t the only one in the mirror.
As it always did when Beck was around, my stomach did a little flip seeing him.
Beck leaned against the door frame, dressed in a pair of jeans and navy tee.
His floppy dirty-blond hair was longer than usual and though I couldn’t see them clearly from this angle, a pair of light brown eyes stared at me in the mirror.
Impossibly handsome. A rogue of the first order. Jokester. Serial dater. And my oldest friend. I spun around, straight into his tattooed arms. Beck held on to me, smelling just like I remembered. Woodsy and clean, he was like breathing in comfort and safety.
I should have called him. Told him weeks ago.
But every time I thought of it, saying the words out loud made it seem so real.
When I finally told my parents, I’d broken down like the old pickup Beck bought and relished parking in his parents’ driveway, one of many things he’d done to send them over the edge.
Not that they didn’t have it coming. But still.
“Hey.” He pulled back, looking down at me. “What’s the matter?”
I swallowed, trying to find the words.
“Mae?”
I could see them now. Beck said he had hazel eyes, but I never saw blue or green flecks in them. Just various shades of brown, or maybe gold. They were usually lit up as he delivered a joke or busted someone’s ass. But now they were filled with concern.
I didn’t want to leave the safety of his arms just yet, so instead of responding I stood there, staring up at him. I always fancied Beck was the older brother I never had. After I was born, Mom’s ovarian cancer dashed her hopes for more kids.
Except… my feelings for him had never been completely sisterly.
Acknowledging I was making it awkward, I pulled away, headed to my bed, and flopped dramatically down onto it, wishing I could stay in its cocoon of goose-down softness forever. Beck sat on the edge of the bed, as he’d done a million times growing up.
I stared up at the ceiling where glow-in-the-dark stars were still stuck there from my celestial phase. It was easier to talk to them.
“I’m sorry for not texting back. I was at Jules’s and crashed there. And never plugged in my phone.”
Pulling myself upright, I propped two pillows on the headboard and sat cross-legged against them.
“I saw you in the bar.”
“Really?” I asked, surprised. “From my vantage point, you looked pretty busy.”
Busy picking up beautiful women, Beck’s favorite pastime with that very smile he was giving me now.
“Not too busy to notice my friend, one who was supposed to be home weeks ago and ghosted me.”
I winced. “Sorry about that. I—” Just say it, Mae.
“Where’s the fiancé? I didn’t see him last night. Or downstairs. Is he under the bed?”
“I don’t have a fiancé.”
Beck’s smile disappeared.
“Excuse me?”
“I don’t have a fiancé. Or a job, or an apartment in Paris.”
Obviously, he was shocked.
“Okay… start at the beginning.”
And so I did. I told Beck what I had to Jules, and he took it way differently.
When I explained how I found out about Mathieu’s side-chick, Beck’s chiseled jaw, one of his best features in my opinion, clenched.
Beck wasn’t as big as, say, Mason, but he was big enough, and way more muscular than Mathieu.
In short, he’d kick his ass, and Beck looked as if he wanted to do just that.
“What a flaming asshole.”
“I won’t disagree with you there.”
“I get calling things off with him, but why did you quit your job? And leave Paris? I thought you loved it there.”
“I did,” I admitted. “But we met not long after I arrived. Everything about it reminded me of him. I honestly don’t think I could live there and work two blocks away from him.”
“Sure,” he said, running his hand through his hair. “It would be hard initially, but eventually you’d get over him. And still have your dream job and be living in, what did you call it? ‘The most beautiful city in the whole wide world.’”
I had said that.
“My parents said the same thing. They thought I made a hasty decision. And honestly, that’s why I didn’t call you, or Jules, or anyone back home. I knew you’d try to talk me out of coming back for good.”
While I waited for him to respond, I peeked at the tattoo snaking down from under his tee. Unless I was mistaken, he’d added to it.
“Mae…”
I would not cry, even though Beck’s uncharacteristic seriousness brought home that this was a heady discussion.
“First of all, I support whatever decision you make. If it felt right to come back, great. Of course I’m thrilled to have you home.
Second, I know it’s way too soon to tell you how lucky you are to find out before your wedding what a prick this guy is.
Fact of the matter is, you’d committed to him, and a life in France, and his selfish decisions fucked it up for you.
I’m sorry you have to deal with this, but you’re not alone. You know that.”
I wiped away a tear at his words. Knowing he was right didn’t take away the pain. But having Beck in my corner meant a lot to me.
“I know. I’m lucky to have such good family and friends. And my health. It feels so silly to be this broken apart when I have so much to be thankful for.”
“Two things can be true at once. Don’t beat yourself up too much. This is a big deal.”
“It’s just…”
He waited. I felt like a broken record, having gone over this all last night with Jules. But Beck was different. Being a man and all.
“I just don’t get it. How does someone declare you the love of their life and say they’ve never met anyone like you before and stage an elaborate engagement on the Seine and then go screw around with a coworker? Honestly. I really don’t understand.”
“I assume you asked him that question?”
“Pfft. More than once. Every time, he deflected, or stonewalled me or turned it around, making me feel crazy. I swear, at the end, I didn’t even recognize myself. You know me, Beck. I’m not some simpering weeping willow. With him, I became… I don’t know. Not me.”
He shifted on the bed, toward me.
“What exactly is a simpering weeping willow?”
I smiled, despite myself.
“I have no idea,” I admitted. “I don’t even know up from down anymore. Since high school, I’ve had a plan. Life goals. And it was going better than expected. Now I have no idea what I want. Actually,” I amended. “I do know one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“I don’t want a boyfriend. Ever again. Men suck. Big time.”
Beck cleared his throat.
“Sorry, but not really. You would make a horrible boyfriend, and you know it. You don’t count.”
He was serious again. Intense, even. “I don’t cheat.”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course you don’t. I know that.”
It was one of the things he hated most about his parents’ marriage.
First his dad cheated. Then his mom, in retaliation.
And then they divorced. Were with other people.
Got remarried. Cheated more, or at least Beck suspected as much.
Honestly, they could be on a reality show of their own, the two of them.
“So why don’t I count?”
“Because you don’t suck. But also because we’ll never be boyfriend and girlfriend. Actually, none of my male friends count. Only the single ones I don’t know.”
“So.” He stuck out his hand, as if counting on his fingers. “Single men suck. But I don’t count. I assume single men you would never date, besides me, don’t count either.”
“Exactly. Like your friend Cole. He’s much too serious for me.”
“I think I’m following.”
I leaned forward and swatted his hand down. “Stop it. I’m serious.”
Laughing, he relented, pretending to wipe the smile from his face. “I’m being serious now.”
“For like three point eight seconds?”
I counted silently. Waiting. One. Two. Three.
He grinned.
“You’re a goofball.”
“A hungry goofball. Your mom said something about eggs.”
“With cheese?”
“You know it.”
Beck stood, reaching out for my hand. I took it, glad to have that off my chest. Two people knew now, and if I wanted to hide out for a few days before telling the world, at least I’d have some company.
“I should have called you sooner,” I said, letting go of him as my feet hit the ground.
“Yes, you should have.”
We made our way from the bedroom into the hall.
“I’ll make it up to you.”
He bounded down the stairs like a teenager. “How?”
“I dunno,” I said, surprisingly hungry all of a sudden. I hadn’t been eating all that well lately. “I’ll think of something.”