Chapter 25
twenty-five
HANNAH
“Want to go grocery shopping, Bug?” Beau asked, emerging from his office.
He’d only been in there thirty minutes and had come out three different times to grab a pen, kiss us both, and get a cup of tea. He’d also kissed us both when he got the pen and cup of tea.
Beau was never in and out of his office so much, or in there for so short a time. In the past, he’d be in there for hours, working. He’d rarely come out, and when he did, it was when I was out of the room he wanted to be in. He’d been pointedly avoiding me.
Not anymore.
Even during the short time he was “working,” I missed him. There was a thread between us now, pulled taut when he was only a couple of rooms away.
My run had been torture. Not just because it was bitterly cold, but because every one of my limbs felt claimed by Beau. My body had an awareness of him. A craving that should’ve been sated last night.
It had not.
I was more than glad when he stopped his work early to come out, but less glad when I heard his question to Clara.
Clara jumped up from where we’d been finishing her drawing from that morning. It was an intricate fairy garden with various magical creatures. “Yes!”
Grocery shopping was a novelty. Something she’d only done once since her transplant, masked, with Beau clutching on to hand sanitizer for dear life.
Now that she could do it like a “normal” kid, she was very excited. So many mundane tasks were novel to her, special. Though I hated the reason for this perspective, it was a great gift she’d been given, to find joy in the ordinary.
I smiled at her glee while cleaning up our crayons, taking Clara’s latest piece of art to stick on the fridge.
“Baby.”
Heat pressed up against my back from where I was rearranging her works of art, Polaroids, and the magnets used to accommodate her latest creation. When I first moved in, the fridge was bare. Clara and I had ensured that it was soon cluttered with our treasures, memories.
The hairs on the back of my neck rose at the hands settling on my back, a low gasp rushing from me as Beau’s lips grazed my ear.
“Get your coat,” he murmured. “We’re going grocery shopping.”
He lingered for a breath more, stepping back just as Clara came into the room.
My hand was shaking as I fixed the picture to the fridge.
I turned around to see Beau helping Clara into her jacket as if he hadn’t just set my panties on fire.
“I don’t normally come grocery shopping.”
In the past, any errand that Beau and Clara ran was just the two of them. Because I was hired to look after Clara when Beau wasn’t around. And Beau tried to avoid enclosed spaces with me when he could.
Beau’s eyes roved slowly over my body. “There were a lot of things that you didn’t normally do that you do now,” he countered in a perfectly pleasant tone.
It hit me square in the ovaries, and it took all my willpower to keep my expression neutral.
The upturn of Beau’s lips and the devious glint to his eye told me that he knew exactly what he was doing.
“Get your coat, baby,” he repeated, sans innuendo.
What could a girl do?
I got my coat.
When I put Clara to bed that night, I was on cloud nine.
The day had been simple. The three of us. Grocery shopping then coffee and pastries at The Chaotic Baker.
Coffee and pastries with Beau holding my hand while in line, Clara on his other side.
I’d been self-conscious enough by his casual touches, hand on my back, and whispering in my ear while grocery shopping.
Then there was the episode with the champagne.
When we approached the alcohol section, I hadn’t expected to pause there. Beau had a whisky every now and then, though I’d only seen him do it twice, once being last night. The bottle we’d shared was still almost entirely full.
But Beau directed us to the wine aisle, stopping in front of the champagne. He reached up with his long, muscular arm to grasp a bottle from the top shelf.
A very expensive bottle. So expensive that it blew my mind. People really spend that much? On wine?
“Who’s that for?” I asked him dumbly. I figured it must’ve been a gift for a friend, one with expensive taste.
“You like this,” he replied, as if that answered the question.
I stared at the bottle, recognizing it as what had been at Avery’s place the night I went for drinks. I didn’t even bother to ask how he’d known that was the specific champagne I’d had the night in question.
“I like space, but you’re not about to get me a rocket ship,” I said dryly.
His eyes twinkled, looking down at Clara. She was sticking close to the two of us, happily looking around the store in awe. Obviously, the newness had not yet worn off. “My girls both like space, so give me time.”
My girls.
Punch. To the heart.
I swallowed thickly, trying to recover. “Regardless, the champagne is not something we get just because I like it.”
I reached into the cart, grabbing the bottle.
When I reached to put it back on the shelf, Beau’s large hand encircled my wrist. The size difference was stark. Until Beau Shaw, never had a man made me feel petite. Never had I felt less afraid of a man physically.
“We’re getting it because you like it,” he argued. “And because we’ve got something to celebrate.”
A thrill surged through me, reveling in the dry, firm grip.
“We do?”
“We do.” Beau held my gaze. “So let go of the fucking champagne, and I’ll let you drink it while I eat your pussy tonight.”
I let go on instinct, my eyes rushing downward to see if Clara was out of earshot. Luckily, she was. I was sure Beau knew that too, because he wouldn’t have said that if she wasn’t. Still, it felt risky—and delightful—to have him speak to me like that in a grocery store.
Then he resumed walking through the aisle, Clara at his side, me following along with my limbs feeling weightless.
He didn’t let me pay for the groceries. Or even the champagne, though there was a small standoff before I relented. The last thing I needed to do was make a scene. I reasoned we could have a sensible conversation about all the dynamics of our relationship after Clara went to bed.
Beau was making it clear to small-town Jupiter that we were a couple.
The grocery store was one thing… It was full of strangers and people I might’ve found familiar, some who nodded to Beau. No one I knew personally.
Nora’s bakery was a whole other story.
Beau’s hand had been wrapped so tight around mine, that the option of pulling it away wasn’t even there.
Fiona had been working the counter. She’d taken one long look at Beau’s hand in mine before her mouth stretched into what could only be described as a shit-eating grin.
“Welcome to the club!” she cheered wildly and loudly.
Everyone in the bakery looked in our direction. My cheeks flamed. Clara grinned.
I still didn’t even entirely know what she was talking about, but I guessed I’d figure it out later that week when I went to her house for “emergency celebrations.”
We chatted for a while, ate our pastries at a table with a view of Main Street, then went home.
When Beau left for work, his goodbye was long and not at all PG, cornering me in the kitchen while Clara was in the living room. His tongue had ravaged my mouth, his hand brutally cupping my breast as he pressed me against the fridge.
I hadn’t wanted to stop. I hadn’t trusted that I could stop. My awakened wanton alter ego was desperate for him to take me to the bathroom and lock us in there for a quick fuck. I almost suggested it. I almost begged for it. Luckily, Beau was a stronger person than me.
“Wait up for me,” he demanded, taking my hand then cupping it to his hard cock in his jeans.
Feeling flushed and breathless, I stared at him. “Always,” I promised.
Beau took my hand away, lifting my palm to his lips where he laid a delicate kiss on the skin.
Then he went to work. As if nothing had changed.
Then Clara and I spent the evening together, like we always did. As if nothing had changed.
Except it had. The whole world had been tipped on its axis. The whole makeup of that household had been shaken up. But nothing felt unsteady, unsafe.
“I like Daddy being your boyfriend,” Clara decided, playing with my hair.
My heart bloomed as I smiled down at her. “It’s only been one day,” I reminded her. And myself.
“It’s been the best day!” she retorted loudly.
“It has been,” I agreed without question.
“And Daddy seems so much happier,” she added, quieter now, wrapping my hair around her finger.
I tilted my head, considering her. “He does?”
It wasn’t a surprise that Clara noticed the emotional temperature in the house. Her father had never once shown her his pain, his anger, or any of the darker sides to him. For his daughter, he produced only sunshine.
But I could feel a difference in him, a lightness. Not a complete change, though. Beau would always have some storm clouds in him—just the way I liked him. But he smiled more, he spoke more.
I’d certainly felt a weight lift off my shoulders. I was no longer tiptoeing around Beau, holding my breath for his reaction, scared to put a foot wrong. Nor was I trying to stifle any kind of desire or maintain boundaries. This was us, in our natural state.
And that’s how it felt. Utterly effortless. Like we’d been doing it all along.
“He does.” Clara’s little fingers trailed the edges of my face, drawing lines over my features. “You do too,” she said sleepily. “Do you think you’ll be here forever?”
“I don’t know,” I said as she yawned. “But I certainly hope so.”
She settled into her pillows, her hand now enclosed in mine. “I hope so too.” She closed her eyes. “I’ll wish for it in my dreams.”
I kissed her head. “I’m already in mine.”
She smiled as she drifted off to sleep.
It was no longer a dance, waiting up for Beau. I didn’t have to act in any type of way, didn’t have to pretend.
We were boyfriend and girlfriend. He’d said as much. Although those terms felt so juvenile given what we were. Given what I felt about him.