Chapter 29 #4
He crossed the distance between us, leaning to kiss me on the nape of my neck, his beard scratching my bare skin, making my body tremble with need.
“My favorite part of your body.” His lips brushed my exposed collarbones, hands resting on my hips.
I leaned back to raise my brow at him. “Your favorite?” I questioned.
He looked down pointedly, with hunger in his gaze. “Aside from the obvious.”
Toes curling in my fabulous boots, I waited for him to make good on that hunger, to peel down my dress, expose my nipples, suckle them.
But Beau lingered for a second more before he stepped back, eyes scanning my body before they focused on my face.
“We’ll be late,” he murmured.
Disappointed, but refusing to show it, I smiled. “We can’t be late for our very first date.”
He didn’t smile back, the corner of his lip turned upward. It was a positive expression. That’s what I told myself.
And Beau wanting to take me on a date was a good thing too.
So why was there a cold pit of dread sitting in my stomach as Beau put his hand on my back, walking us out?
Everything about the date was perfect.
On paper, at least.
I was wearing an outfit that likely cost more than my car. I felt beautiful, for the first time in my life, I truly felt beautiful. I was walking into a restaurant with a man I loved, a man who loved me.
The man in question opened my car door for me, pulled out my chair, who treated me better than any man ever had—not saying much to be fair.
But there was an undertone to Beau’s behavior. I couldn’t put my finger on it. His forced half smiles, the faraway look in his eyes, the tightness of his jaw. Something was off.
Halfway through dinner—the one that was great but not as good as Beau’s—I was sick of guessing what it could be, driving myself crazy with worry. We were together, I was allowed to ask him what was wrong.
“Beau—”
“Hannah?”
I swiveled in the direction of my voice, the person that spoke it.
“Oh my god, it is you!”
Three women rushed toward the table. Three familiar women.
I stood on wooden legs. “Helen, Jenny, Rachel.” I greeted the gaggle of women with hugs that surprised me.
I would’ve said that I was friendly with the three women, but not friends. Not that they weren’t perfectly nice—they were. They made an effort to include me, invite me out. I went once or twice, but nor my budget or my schedule allowed.
“What are you all doing here?” I asked when the hugs were done.
“We have been meaning to take a trip here for an age,” Jenny told me. “I read an article about this bakery and—”
“We’re celebrating! We graduated.” Rachel declared, a little louder than the atmosphere of the restaurant invited.
“And we’re saying goodbye to Helen.” She gestured to the petite blonde next to her. “She’s taking a placement in Australia.”
Helen smiled warmly at me. “I know that you always wanted to do it,” she said, remembering a detail I’d said in passing over a year ago. “I’d be happy to put in a good word for you. For when you graduate.”
The intention behind her offer was completely genuine. Helen was the quietest of the trio, the kindest too.
“You are still graduating, right?” Rachel asked, louder than Helen spoke. “I mean I know you needed to take time off for personal reasons…” She trailed off, her eyes going to the table, where I’d left Beau.
I’d been conscious of him the entire time, of course. It was impossible not to be. I knew he was watching. Listening.
“This is your personal reason, I assume?” Rachel asked with a coy smile. She stepped forward, holding her hand out. “I’m Rachel.”
Beau had a strange look on his face, his jaw still tight. But he got up, shook Rachel’s extended hand.
“Beau,” he said gruffly.
Rachel waggled her eyes at me, giving me a not so discreet thumbs-up.
I shook my head, blushing. “This is my, uh, boyfriend, Beau,” I introduced awkwardly.
Beau shook hands dutifully, exchanging pleasantries with as few words as possible.
He was uncomfortable. Because Beau didn’t like people, nor did he like small talk. Luckily the women were informed that their table was ready, and I said quick goodbyes, promising to look them up and send Helen an email when I graduated.
“Sorry,” I breathed when they left, sitting back down with Beau.
My hips tensed, seeing the guarded expression on his face, something about it chilled my blood.
“I knew them from school,” I explained the obvious.
“Do you want to backpack through Africa?” Beau asked.
I blinked at him, at the strange question, seemingly out of the blue.
I picked up my fork. “Um, Africa?” I searched the depths of my mind, wondering where he might’ve even thought to ask that question. “Maybe when I was little.” I speared a piece of steak, chewing it for something to do.
“Do you still want to, now?” Beau asked. His hands were flat on the table, he’d barely touched his food.
“Now?” I repeated. “No. Now I am exactly where I want to be.” I reached across to grab his hand. It was dry. Warm. Comforting.
He squeezed my hand, tracing circles on the top of my palm.
He stared at my hand for a long time, as if he were weighing my response.
“Good,” he murmured. “You want dessert here or pick up Clara for ice cream?”
“Is that even a question?” I asked with a smile. “Let’s go get our girl.”
Beau’s lips almost turned into a full-blown smile. Almost.
BEAU
“Are you going to marry Hannah?”
The question stopped me in my tracks. I’d been tucking Clara in, after we’d read the required four and a half stories. After we’d talked about the stars, the fairies who slept under her bed.
I looked to my daughter, her button nose, her raven hair, her high cheekbones. I opened my mouth to tell her of course, of course I was going to marry Hannah.
That was the plan. Marry her. Plant babies in her. Build a fucking life with her.
Then the doubts crept in. Then her fucking brother filled my head with truths I’d been ignoring. Then I heard about fucking Africa. Her friends, celebrating graduation, telling her about nursing abroad programs. Programs that Hannah had apparently been very interested in.
Until now.
She said she was right where she wanted to be. Here, in Jupiter. With me. Clara. In a small town. She loved us both. With everything she was. She’d spend a life with us. She’d create a wonderful life with us.
But what about her life?
What about backpacking through Africa.
“Daddy?”
I jerked.
My daughter was waiting for me to answer her question. And I didn’t lie to her. I hadn’t lied to Clara. Ever.
I smoothed her hair back. “I want to, Bug,” I murmured. “More than anything.”
“You want to, so you will, right?” she asked. “You’ll marry her and then I can marry her too and she can be my mommy?”
My heart, battered as it was, fractured right there and then.
I leaned in to kiss Clara’s head. “I can promise you that Hannah loves you so much and she will be in your life forever and ever.”
Clara held my cheeks in her little hands. “Forever and ever, promise?”
It took everything in me to hold her eyes. “Promise.”
I had never lied to my daughter.
I hoped to fuck that I hadn’t started tonight.
Hannah did love her. And she would always be in her life. Regardless of the choices I knew I had to make.
HANNAH
Beau had been off since my brother left. I saw it. Felt it. Even after the date night. Especially after the date night.
Beau was free with affection. With compliments. He gave both with an ease that made it seem like we’d been together forever but also with a ferocity that suggested he couldn’t get enough of me. Like everything was the first time.
But something changed. He still touched me. Kissed me. But he was distant. His eyes were far away. His posture was taut, wired. He didn’t smile, much less chuckle.
I tried not to read too much into it. I tried not to let fear get the best of me.
Beau loved me. He said so himself. Beau was done hurting me. I could trust in this. In what we had.
I was so used to a change in someone’s mood signaling hurt for me that I’d been conditioned to prepare for impact.
Even as I tried to talk myself out of it, tried to remember that Beau was different.
Not that different, it turned out.
Not different at all.
I’d put Clara to bed, per her request. Sometimes, she wanted the both of us, sometimes her father or just me. I wondered if she could sense what we needed, who needed to lay with her and smell her hair, tell her stories.
Because Clara was what I needed. A grounding presence in a love so strong, so secure, it was unconditional. I’d never experienced unconditional love until her.
I’d stayed longer than I normally would, lying next to her as she took even breaths, staring at the stars projected on her ceiling. Was I hiding? Did I have the same kind of sense, except for danger? Pain?
Or maybe I was just predictable. Maybe men were.
Beau was sitting in the living room when I came out. From the way he was sitting, the energy in the room, I instantly knew something was wrong. There were no whiskys, no hot chocolates, no candles. Beau surprised me every night with a little treat, which almost always ended in mind-blowing sex.
There was no promise of that in the room. It was cold and foreboding.
His eyes touched me as I entered, pain crackling through my heart at his expression.
“Hannah, will you sit with me?” His tone was low. Soothing. The way a farmer might’ve spoken to an old mare they were preparing to shoot for their own good.
To put them out of their misery.
Except I wasn’t miserable. Not even a little.
“No.” I crossed my arms in front of me.
Beau winced at the ragged tone of my voice before he stood up, walking toward me.
I backed up, holding my hand up to stop him. He stopped immediately. “You’re not allowed to come near me unless it’s to tell me that I’m wrong. That I’m creating scenarios in my head because I can’t trust good things. You’re only allowed to come near me if you aren’t about to break up with me.”
Break up.