30. Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty
Laredo
H er boomerang laughs transports us both back to last summer, a week filled with moments that we gobbled up too quickly to cherish. I won’t make that mistake a second time.
“No freaking way… How did…?” Betty waves the purple-and-gold-decorated glow stick I presented to her at the recently reconfigured milk jugs at the carnival booth. A last-minute inspiration that cost me a wad of cash and nearly made me late to meet her at the book sale.
Penelope, the blue-haired attendant, gives me a told you so wink. She’s a freaking scientific genius disguised as a sixteen-year-old carnival barker. She’s rigged an electromagnetic charge to the metal milk jugs. They are painted dark wizardry colors that match Betty’s wand. The milk jugs are covered in stickers of dementors, the ghouls that haunted Harry in the books. How Penelope took my half-cocked proposal and turned her booth into this is a mystery I’ll look to solve another day.
“Expecto Patronum.” Betty performs a full spin, the ocean breeze causing her short skirt to form a delicious cone. The momentary flash of her incredible legs distracts me with thoughts of them wrapped around me. I force myself to remain in the present. There is no need to rush. Not anymore. We are building something. Something special. I won’t skip ahead. Not anymore.
Betty shoots her hand toward the jugs, the corners of her eyes tightening in concentration as if she’s fighting for her life in a dangerous forest in the middle of England. Penelope gives me a wink and flips the remote control hidden in the palm of her hand. One of the two remaining bottles burst off the table while the other wobbles.
Betty hops on her toes with excitement. Her eyes fill with a joy that lets me know I am only scratching the surface of discovering all the things that bring her pleasure. Olivia may have informed me about Betty dressing as Ginny, but this, this booth was pure me. There is so much I need to learn about Betty, but it’s incredible how often my instincts are spot-on. I can’t wait to see what comes next.
The last bottle wobbles like the final pin in a bowling alley strike. Her upper teeth dig into her lower lip, eyes locked on the jug, and she waits. The bottle wobbles close to the edge of the table, and Betty steps toward the counter of the booth. I don’t need to look to see what the bottle does. My focus is on her. She yelps, a fist pump to the sky letting me know she is victorious.
Betty blows on the end of the wand as if it’s a smoking six-shooter from the Old West. She skips to me, leaping when she gets within two feet of me. My hands wrap around her rear, one hand slipping underneath the miniskirt, her smooth, soft skin forcing my mind to gallop toward a future filled with moments like this. “Best.” She presses a kiss on the tip of my nose. “Date.” Another kiss buried into the crook of my neck. “Ever.”
My heart warms with the words. I’ve never been nervous taking a woman out on a date before today. I’m me. I have swagger. I have charm. What else would I ever need? With Betty, it’s different. What I want is for her to be catered to. For her to see everything I will do to make her happy. Even if it means sweating in an itchy wig and dressing like a doofus. For her, I will.
“It’s not over yet. Let’s just say there may be a new signature wizard-inspired cocktail waiting for you at Driftwood.” When Olivia told me about Betty’s costume, my first thought was I’d grab a cheap wand from a gift shop and meet her. That’s what the old me would have done. Me just showing up would be enough—it always had been. Then I remembered Adam. His grand gesture to win over Ariel. The text from Betty.
I needed to do more. Not just a wand but a full costume, even if it meant hitting up two different shops to get it right. It meant taking the extra step and setting up this carnival booth specially configured just for her.
She is the focus. She is the prize. One I need to work to earn. Which is why I forced Olivia to have Maxey, the bartender at Driftwood, create a special cocktail just for her. This is me trying. A task I’ve avoided in the past.
“Zekiel!” She calls me by my real name, and my shoulders tense, expecting to hate the sound. My name on her lips is one of the sweetest sounds I’ve heard this summer. “You didn’t have to do all of this. Dinner and a walk on the boardwalk would have been good enough.”
I press my nose to hers and take an inhale of my new favorite scent. “I will never settle on good enough for you. You deserve the best. My best.” I close my eyes and let my words marinade. “All my life, I’ve taken shortcuts. Let my looks and natural talent carry me further than they ever should. You—you make me want to try, to be better. To do better. I will always give you my best.”
She presses her forehead to mine. “Look at us now. How did we get here?”
“I know.” The remaining words are unspoken. We are blessed. Things could have turned out so differently for us. Every step on this amazing journey could have led to an end. Instead, we are at a beautiful beginning.
“Please tell me again that you didn’t skip out on Ariel at the studio. I don’t want to get on her bad side. Her temper is legendary.”
I snicker. Ariel is known for three things: incredible stage presence, undying love and support for her bandmates, and her temper. I’ll let Adam navigate those waters. “Nah. Adam wrote a new song for her, which she loves. She asked us to play it with her on the workshop stage, but I told her she didn’t need us. She could do it on her own. She’s holed up in the studio rehearsing. Adam is keeping her company.”
Betty grabs my forearm. “Wait. Did you, mister born to be on the stage, pass up an opportunity to perform?” Her voice fills with disbelief. “A stage here at the festival in a tent filled with music executives, influencers, reporters, and agents?” She gives me a look of disbelief, as if my words make no sense. “Zekiel?”
I nod without an ounce of remorse. “It’s her moment to shine, not mine.” A lightness invades my chest as I realize watching Ariel grow and achieve her dreams is as satisfying to me as taking the stage myself.
When Ariel sent me the original text back in Indiana, I thought it was destiny calling me for a second chance. I came to town focused on myself. What Ariel could do for me. How I could leverage the festival to return to the spotlight. But with Betty in front of me, I truly understand destiny’s call. I was called to help lift Ariel. To be the wingman for the brother who has never asked for anything from me his entire life. And for this. A second chance with Betty.
A twinkle in Betty’s eyes gives her away before she ever speaks. “Who knew under all that rock-star attitude was a heart of gold?”
As much as I’d love to embrace her words, I know my heart is far from pure. “Not gold—just a man learning and growing. I realize my actions impact others, whether I see it or not. I’m learning to make sure going forward it’s a positive impact.” She connects my words and slips her hand into mine.
Her eyes fill with a warmth that speaks a thousand words. She lowers her chin, glancing down at her stomach before looking up again. My mouth snaps shut, knowing immediately where her mind has drifted off. I lift our joined hands, placing them on her belly.
Her handshakes, and I can only imagine the thoughts churning. On the couch last night, we talked all night. Betty shared the fear, the guilt, the shame she felt when she thought she was pregnant. The news was still raw to me, and I didn’t trust myself to speak properly at the time, so I listened. I noted the things she didn’t feel. Regret, sorrow, anger.
She looks up from our hands still on her belly, her puppy dog gaze so tenderly that I know I must speak. I’m still processing everything, but I trust my instincts when it comes to her. “It would have been beautiful,” I whisper, and her eyes turn watery.
With my hand on her belly, all I feel is peace. Gone is the perpetual pressure to impress, whether it be a concert hall full of strangers, an A it’s what I want.
“You want me?” The words are so soft I know they aren’t meant for me. “You want to stay in Seaside. For me?” She tips up on her toes and places a kiss on my lips.
“For us,” I say.
She wraps her arms around the back of my neck, her fingers working up to my scalp. She whips the scratchy wig from the top of my head, letting it fall to the ground. Her magical fingers massage my scalp.s
“Zekiel, I’d like that.” She whispers, tipping up on her toes, pressing a ghost kiss on my lips. “I like the sound of that—us.”