Chapter 16 #2
But I’d be lying if I said that Beatrice’s invitation to dinner doesn’t have me hoping.
Yes, she wants to talk about work, but that’s not a bad thing.
Her work, her art, is one of the most important things in her life.
If she’s even thinking about trusting me with those parts of her again, I don’t see how that’s anything but a good sign.
“I’m happy for you, man,” Dean says, pulling me from my thoughts as I work up the buttons on my shirt.
I turn to find him with his gear bag slung over his shoulder on his way out the door. “Excuse me?”
“I’m happy for you,” he says, nodding toward my face. “Whoever has you smiling like that… You deserve it.”
My shoulders stiffen. “It’s not like that.”
Dean flashes a knowing grin. “Sorry. My mistake. So, you aren’t on your way to meet someone special?”
“She’s a friend,” I hedge.
“Oh. Okay. Well, like we said, friends are good.” His smile fades as he adds in a softer voice, “But if you want more, don’t be afraid to shoot your shot. We aren’t getting any younger, and time goes by fast.”
I nod. “I’ll keep that in mind. Good hustle out there today, old man.”
He grins again. “You, too, old man. See you tomorrow.”
I lift a hand his way, then return to getting dressed, a little shaken.
Maybe I’m not hiding my feelings as well as I thought…
And if Dean can see it, surely the rest of the team will start to notice, too, sooner or later.
Including Nix, who won’t let me get away with brushing him off so easily.
The certainty that we’re running out of time to control the way Beatrice’s brother finds out about all this lingers as I drive across town to the Marigny neighborhood.
I park near Frenchmen Street and walk the rest of the way to the restaurant, enjoying the cool night air.
It’s fully autumn in New Orleans now, and the live music clubs and trendy shops in the area are embracing it.
Pumpkins, hay bales, and arrangements of fall leaves grace every stoop and doorway.
At the corner, the florist’s kiosk is surrounded by a veritable moat of orange mums.
On impulse, I cross the moat to buy a bouquet of zinnias in all the shades of the season, surrounded by wispy green shoots.
Bea’s text made it sound like she might need flowers. An “interesting” meeting is rarely a good meeting, and friends buy friends flowers all the time.
Sure, they do, buddy, a voice mutters in my head, Sure they do.
But the inner voice isn’t as cutting as usual. Even it seems to be coming around to the truth that there’s no going back. I’m in love with Bea, and I likely always will be, even if she decides it’s best for us to be just friends and co-parents from here on out.
I duck under the limbs of a live oak past the florist, and the front of the restaurant comes into view. I spot Bea waiting by the curb, and my feet forget how to function.
My lungs forget how to draw breath.
I freeze in the middle of the sidewalk, dumbstruck.
I keep thinking I’m prepared for how beautiful she is right now, but…fuck.
Tonight, she’s in a long orange dress I haven’t seen before, one that clings, showcasing every deadly curve.
She’s paired it with a crocheted vest thing that does nothing to conceal the deep V at the front of the dress, where her cleavage is on full display.
Her hair is down for the first time in days, hanging in glossy waves nearly to her ass, reflecting the string lights above the restaurant.
She looks like a 1970s movie star ready for her close-up.
Like a fairy cosplaying as a human for the night.
Like the only woman I ever want to take to dinner.
“Hey! There you are.” She smiles as she spots me, but it fades as I close the distance between us. “You okay? You look upset or something. Was practice shitty?”
“No, it wasn’t,” I say, my voice rough. “It was good, I’m just…” I trail off with a shake of my head. “You’re just too much sometimes, Bea. It’s like…staring straight into the sun.”
A flush creeps up her neck. A beat later, she leans in, pressing a kiss to my left pec with a “mwuah,” sound.
I exhale a soft laugh. “What was that for?”
“Because I’m too short to reach your cheek,” she says, with a shrug. “And because I really needed to hear that someone thinks I’m pretty today.” She holds my gaze for a chest-tightening moment before her focus drops to the bouquet I’d nearly forgotten I was holding. “Are those for me?”
“Of course,” I say. “Friends buy friends flowers, right?”
“The best friends do.” She takes them gently, cradling them like they’re something far more precious than zinnias. “Thank you, Blue. Seriously. Today was such a shit show, and I just… I really appreciate you.”
“Why was it a shit show?” I ask. “Checkers wasn’t on board with the changes you want to make to the sound?”
She rolls her eyes. “Oh, no. Way worse than that. Way, way worse. We didn’t even get to that part before it all went off the rails.
” She shakes her head, laughing as she turns toward the restaurant.
“But whatever, I’ll tell you all about it while we eat.
Let’s grab a table. I’m starving, and Bean’s been craving Pad Thai since ten a.m. She was not happy about the itty-bitty cheese scone we had for a snack. ”
She loops her arm through mine, leading me inside to the hostess stand.
I try not to read anything into it, nothing more than a friend grateful for support after a shitty day. But it’s hard when it feels so right to slide into a booth across from her.
And when I can’t remember what I wanted before I wanted her.