Chapter 24 #2
I grinned, phone to my ear, telling him everything.
Well, not everything. I did kiss and tell, but I hoarded most of the more explicit details, keeping them for myself. Cole would not be shocked at them; he’d relish in them. But they were mine.
“I’m happy for you, Han,” he murmured quietly. “Even if it means I won’t have a new roommate with medical knowledge.”
I barked out a laugh. “I won’t be able to write prescriptions for a while,” I reminded him.
I did eventually want to become a practitioner but that was more study and a lot more money than what I could afford.
Keep my goals attainable, sensible. That was the plan.
Now I was in Beau Shaw’s bed with him and Clara making me breakfast. Three months ago, I wouldn’t have called that an attainable goal.
I would’ve called that a dream. A fool’s hope. But here we were.
“Boo,” he muttered. “But seriously, Han. You deserve this. And that family is so lucky to have you.” Cole’s voice was thick with emotion, causing my throat to tighten. “Plus, if Beau hurts you, I’ll have him kneecapped. I won’t do it myself because … yuck, blood. But I’ll pay someone.”
I smiled, happy that I wasn’t going to be crying that morning. “I expect nothing less.”
The sound of Clara’s voice got closer along with the clatter of plates. “Got to go,” I said. “I’m being served breakfast in bed.”
“As you fucking should,” Cole chuckled. “Love you.”
“Love you,” I replied before I hung up.
Then came Clara, holding a tray—with Beau’s help.
She passed it to him then came running, jumping into bed and snuggling next to me. “We’re going to eat together,” she declared. “As a family.”
My heart skipped. I looked at Beau.
He was smiling.
Nothing like that smile in the photo of him holding Clara. His ability to smile like that had been stolen. But there was joy still, radiating from him.
I toyed with Clara’s hair, unable to speak.
We had breakfast in bed. As a family.
Once breakfast was finished, Beau disappeared. I thought he’d gone to do the dishes. A reasonable assumption since he’d taken the tray and forbidden me from helping.
Not ready to leave the room and reenter reality, Clara and I were reading in Beau’s bed.
When Beau returned to the room, it was clear he had not been doing dishes. He’d been packing.
My bags. There were only two. He deposited them at the end of the bed.
He then walked over to his dresser, opening drawers, rearranging things.
I watched him with a slack jaw. Clara was still reading, oblivious that something monumental was going on. I would’ve thought me being her father’s girlfriend was something monumental, but apparently, she’d been wishing for it. Therefore, it made total sense for her wishes to come true.
Oh, how I hoped with all my heart I could help preserve that certainty, that belief that wishes did come true.
“Come on, Bug.” Beau held his hands out to his daughter.
“We’ll get you dressed. Hannah is going to unpack.
” He said it in a no-nonsense way, like it wasn’t in any way monumental to him either.
But the change in his body language was unmistakable.
He walked differently, like he wasn’t carrying so much.
His shoulders were more relaxed, and there wasn’t a permanent crease between his eyes.
Clara jumped up at her father’s command. “I’m going to unpack?” I said it sharply, and there was a staticky sound in my ears, so I couldn’t be sure that the words came out as I’d intended.
He nodded. “We discussed it last night. You’ll be staying in here, with me, from now on. Remember?”
I almost choked on my own saliva. Did I remember?
I’d said the words myself. And I’d meant them.
But I hadn’t trusted that it would actually happen.
Hadn’t thought Beau would go so far as to pack my bags himself within an hour of waking up.
In front of Clara, no less. He wouldn’t do that unless he was certain about this.
About me.
“I remember,” I whispered.
“Good. Now unpack.” Beau’s eyes did a slow scan over me, still in his bed. “Perfect,” he muttered, almost to himself. Then he followed his daughter out of the room.
I was left with a thundering heart.
Without thinking too much, I unpacked. I did it slowly, and even then it didn’t take long.
Beau had cleared out way too much space for my meager belongings.
Soon, they were in his dresser, a couple of dresses hung next to his shirts in the closet.
I put the dress I wore to Calliope’s wedding next to the suit he’d worn.
Same with my Halloween dress, lining it up next to his Gomez suit. They looked like they belonged.
I felt like I belonged.
Which should’ve been comforting, the ease in which this had happened. Instead, it was terrifying. My delicious breakfast felt as if it were curdling in my stomach.
Hence me getting dressed and putting on my running shoes, despite the ache in my muscles.
“I’m going for a run,” I announced to the kitchen.
Normally, I didn’t broadcast that I was going for a run.
I didn’t know why I did it that morning.
Maybe because Beau had spent a decent amount of time the previous night with his mouth between my legs.
Maybe because my clothes were now in his closet, and he’d made it clear that he cared about my comings and goings. Maybe it was because he loved me.
“Have fun!” Clara called from her spot at the breakfast bar. She was coloring. Beau was tending to his sourdough, which he made weekly. Something incredibly endearing and also delicious.
I grinned at her before noting a large form had entered my space.
Beau was standing in front of me, his hands going to my hips.
My breath caught in my throat as I looked up at him.
He was touching me, in the kitchen. It felt surreal and perfect all at once. My body reveled at the simple contact.
“Don’t like you running,” Beau said softly, rubbing my hip bone over the top of my leggings.
He looked me up and down.
It was still chilly, so I was wearing leggings, thick socks, and about three layers of thermals underneath my puffy vest.
“I especially don’t like you running in that,” he added in a growl as if my running attire were akin to lingerie.
I looked up at him, feeling tingles down my spine. “You don’t like what I’m wearing?” I teased.
“I love what you’re wearing.” He leaned in so his lips brushed my ears, so his words would not be heard by a five-year-old.
“I love that I can see the perfect heart shape of your ass, the muscles in your thighs, the curve of your hips…” His hands lightly skimmed over those areas.
It was an outwardly PG touch, but it felt beyond R-rated.
“I love what you’re wearing too,” Clara added, jerking me out of my fantasy.
I blinked in a haze to see Beau smiling wickedly, as if he knew where my mind had gone. He should’ve. He took it there.
“Daddy, didn’t you just say boyfriends don’t tell girlfriends what to do?” she continued sweetly.
Now it was my turn to grin.
Beau’s eyes danced playfully, his hand remaining on my hip as he turned to his daughter. “That I did, Bug.”
“And Hannah is your girlfriend,” she said smugly.
My smile stretched as Beau’s hand flexed at my hip. “She is,” he ground out, decidedly less amused.
“She can go running in that if she wants, then,” she said happily, looking at me. “Do you want to go running in that, Banana?”
No. I didn’t even want to run anymore. I wanted to stay there, in that moment, in that home, in that family forever.
“Yes, Blueberry, I do.” I gave her a smile that was only half forced.
“Then it’s settled,” Clara declared. “Hannah will go running, and Daddy and I will make bracelets in my room.”
This time my smile was genuine as I looked up at Beau. “The boss has spoken.”
He wasn’t smiling as he looked from Hannah to me, his expression so serious and reverent that it almost leveled me.
“That she has.” He leaned into my ear again. “I’ll be sure to make my mark on that ass tonight, so when you run tomorrow, you’ll feel the brand of my handprint.”
He kissed me hard on the mouth.
“Be careful,” he added. “Love you.”
Before I could even consider saying it back, he was holding on to Clara, extending her to lay a kiss on my cheek, then carting her in the direction of her bedroom.
With a swelling heart, I didn’t have much else to do except go for a run.