Chapter 27
Jensen
Shifting as Beck pulls me to him, I throw my other leg around his lap and hold him tight as he lets out all the emotions he was holding back from that call.
“She remembered me, she hasn’t recognized me in two years,” he cries and his arms pull me in tighter. “Part of me made peace that she never would again…”
My heart falls down to my stomach. “Beck, honey…” My words die off because what do I say? It’s okay? It’s not, here he is already mourning his mom for years—there’s not much to say in this grief to make someone feel better.
Taking a few deep breaths, Beck pulls back to wipe at his face. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”
Pulling his hands away I replace them with my own. “There’s no need to apologize.”
Beck’s glossy eyes lock with mine. “I just…that was a lot. Amazing, and I’m grateful for every moment of clarity I get from her, but…
I think it might have been easier had she not remembered me.
” Beck retreats farther back on the couch and runs his hands over his face.
“Dammit, that’s a horrible thing to say. ”
“No, no, it’s not.” I reach for him again, pulling his arms back to my waist and forcing him to look at me. “Listen to me, that’s not horrible. You’ve been grieving your mom for so long, you’re allowed to have mixed emotions about it.”
He lets out another deep breath. “I just wish this wasn’t happening to her.”
My heart breaks. Leaning in, I hug him tight. I know exactly what he means because there were so many times that I thought the same exact thing for Stella, for my mom, for myself. His arms squeeze my back, and I whisper, “I wish that too.”
Neither of us move for several minutes. I try to keep my breathing in line with his, in hopes it encourages a panic attack to stay at bay. I can’t tell for sure if one’s even stirring in him, but it doesn’t matter, I want to be here. I want to be his comfort in this moment.
Eventually, Beck’s arms move to my shoulders. Sitting back up, his hands glide my hair softly behind my ears. “Thank you.”
I find a soft smile. “Of course, what do you think about us having a lazy day?”
His eyebrows pull together. “Don’t you work tonight?”
“I took it off. That’s why I was at Winedown. I helped Mia with some restocking and asked her if I could get the afternoon off.”
Beck breaths out an amused humph. “Did you get this gut feeling that I was going to be in need of some emotional support?”
I chuckle. “Something like that.”
Something in my gut was telling me to take off work this morning. Something in my gut is telling me that there’s no moving on from Beck, and as much as I’d love to lay it all out there, I know today probably isn’t the best time for that.
“What should we do then, Killer?”
“How does breakfast for dinner and some pool sound?”
Beck sits up and places a kiss on my neck. “Sounds pretty amazing.”
Getting up from the couch, we make our way to the kitchen, taking note of all the things Beck has in his kitchen then the stuff we need from the store. All it took was one whine from Dottie to convince Beck to bring her along for the ride.
We had a bit of a debate on whether we were going sweet or savory for our breakfast dinner. To which Beck ultimately declared tonight would be savory with bacon, chorizo, eggs, and diced potatoes, then he was going to make pancakes in the morning.
Beck pops the potatoes in the air fryer while I crack the eggs in a bowl. “You know, we didn’t have time for me to make it today, but next time let me know when you want to make breakfast for dinner and I’m going to make my mother’s menudo.”
The sentence comes out, and when it registers at how that sounded I grimace a bit. We’ve had such a normal couple of hours, following a very heavy moment. The idea that we might not do this again is one I don’t love, but could be our reality.
Beck thankfully seems unfazed by it as he moves around pulling out different pans for the stove. “Oh yeah, why not tonight?”
“Didn’t have enough time. Typically, you need about three-ish hours, but my mom would cook it on low overnight.” A smile comes to my face as the memory itself practically has the smell along with it.
“Overnight?” Beck asks with a raised eyebrow.
“Yes, overnight.” I chuckle. “My dad asked her the same question the first time she made it for him. She loves to bring up because she still makes fun of him for asking that to this day.”
This smile comes to his face, and I nearly ask what it’s for, but don’t.
“I’ve always loved breakfast for dinner because my mom was a firm believer that it didn’t matter what time of day it was, you should just eat food.
In the morning, if she made anything non-traditional for breakfast, she would always joke that it was to spite my dad.
Apparently, he had some questions when she would be eating pasta for breakfast.”
I snort. “Pasta for breakfast actually sounds pretty good.”
Beck’s smile only grows as he starts to cut open the meats we bought. “It became this whole thing. ‘Breakfast’ food was practically only eaten at dinner time in our house, unless that’s just what you were craving in the morning.”
“I love that.” I move my eggs over to the stove. “And only solidifies my idea of menudo more. It’s typically served as a breakfast or brunch food, but it’s a soup so especially in the winter, it would hit the spot any time of the day.”
Beck slides in beside me and places two pans on the stove. He plants a quick kiss to the side of my head. “I look forward to trying it. And maybe you can teach me how to make it.”
Warmth fills my body. This has gone entirely too far, so fast. I love this man. And it wasn’t the sex that started it, it was just him. He hasn’t done anything inherently romantic, no candles, flowers, or fancy dates. Or, really, I don’t think I realized what type of romantic I was until Beck.
With my ex, I did get all the things. The basic romance of the same exact expensive restaurant for dates and gorgeous flowers but the kicker is they came with condescending remarks and judgment.
But that’s not Beck. He could do all those things, but the difference is the partner, and I want Beck to be mine.
I won’t judge Beck if he says he doesn’t see more for us, but I have to put us on the table for him to actually do that. Moving on from him will hurt so much worse, but I have to know if this is truly what he wants before letting him go.
The question is, when do I tell him?
“How was brunch with Lucie?” Beck asks, pulling me back to the moment.
“Oh, uh, it was good.” Shaking off the wave of emotions that just hit me, I put my focus back on scrambling our eggs. “I went to meet Reagan first. She’s having a contractor come in to get some more outlets, a room, and an extra sink added.”
“That’s great, whenever you want to call in our deal, just let me know.”
We’ve got two deals going, but I want to call in on the other one.
When I don’t answer, Beck nudges me with his elbow. “You okay? If you want to talk about that more—”
I shake my head again. Come on, Jensen, pull yourself together.
“No, no, we’re fine, I was just thinking of where to start that’s all.
” Technically, not a lie. “I also talked to Luce today about having Emma paint some murals. Apparently, Reagan asked about that too, so we’ll be talking to her about some things later.
I have a feeling her payment request will either be monetary or florals for life. ”
Beck snorts. “Yeah, Emma doesn’t exactly scream tattoos, does she?”
I give him a side-eye.
His shoulders drop. “Jen, come on? You said—”
I wave him off. “I know. I’m just giving you a hard time.” Keeping this playful moment going, I look at him again. “I think we just talked about jealousy being okay. Don’t be thinking about what Emma screams.”
Beck’s head tilts back with a genuine laugh. He sets down his spatula and his hands find either side of my face. “You are the only girl I ever want.”
I suck in a breath. His smile is cheesy and seemingly appears carefree, but if his dad was telling the truth about his tell…then Beck actually means that.
I sit with that all through finishing our dinner. I know Beck can tell something’s off. I try my best to mask it with the excuse that I’m just hungry, but now our plates are empty and I’m racking the balls on the pool table looking for some sort of distraction.
“Are you sure you want to play?” Beck asks, handing me my cue.
“Yeah,” I say, turning my eyes back to the table. “I don’t think we’ve played together since that time you tricked everyone into a pool tournament for Callie and Will.”
Beck lets out a soft chuckle. “You mean the night I became obsessed with you.”
My shoulders relax slightly and I want to joke about him being my stalker or how delusional he was, but they all get stuck in my throat. “I’ll break.”
Beck opens his mouth to speak, but I move to line up with the cue ball. As I lean down, my phone dings twice back-to-back and then another follows.
“Want me to get that?” Beck asks cautiously.
Another ding comes. and I let out a sigh. “Yeah, I think my phone’s on the counter. I’m sure it’s the girls’ group chat.”
I line back up and send the ball right down the middle. Can’t say I got the spread that Beck usually does, but I’m pretty proud of it.
Leaning back up, I look at Beck as he comes back to the pool table. He looks white as a sheet. “Jen, why is my dad texting you?”
Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.
Abandoning my cue on the table, I walk to him quickly. “Okay, hear me out, I swear I had good intentions.”
I reach for my phone, and Beck doesn’t pull away or demand for me to open it.
“Okay,” he mumbles.
My phone dings a few more times, I switch it to silent. Opening my phone, several pictures are being sent one to two at a time.
“Are those the pictures my mom was looking at earlier?” Beck’s voice is barely above a whisper and my heart is in my stomach.
Taking a deep breath, I look in his deep green eyes.
“Yes, I may have asked Callie and Emma to get your dad’s number for me.
After our talk last night, I couldn’t sleep, so I started sketching some ideas for tattoos you might want…
It seemed like a good idea at the time, so I asked your dad to send me some pictures of you from your childhood for inspiration. I didn’t—”
Beck steps in toward me. “So, you asked my dad for pictures, and because of that my mom started looking through them too…and then remembered who I was.”
I hadn’t thought about that. Shit. “Beck, I’m so sorry.”
His hands move before I even register what’s happening, he’s sitting me on the edge of the pool table and his hands cradle my face softly.
“Jensen, you said not to kiss you because it means more to you. What if I want to kiss you? What if I want to kiss you, knowing it means something to me?”
My heart is pounding so loud that I swear he has to be able to hear it. I want to lean in and kiss him first, but I have to know.
I search his face, looking for any hint of hesitation or clarity that this is about to actually happen.
He’s not wearing his glasses today since he went out with the guys. I guess the tell I’m hanging on to is if he can answer me without looking away.
“And if I asked you about your reasoning for not wanting more? You said you wouldn’t ask me to live with the fear of you forgetting me. What if I want to be with you no matter what the future looks like?”
His hands glide back through my hair. His eyes stay locked on mine. “I’d say fuck what I said before. Fuck what I thought I wanted. I only want you.”
The pounding of my heart stops. Everything stops actually. There’s just Beck.
“Then kiss me.”