20
Selah
B eckett is due to be at my house in ten minutes and my bedroom looks like a clothes tornado hit it.
I've changed into five different outfits, none of them looking nice enough to be seen out with a man that looks like walking sex.
I pout at the white wrap skirt and pink top I have on, deciding that it will have to do for now. I normally love wearing this outfit, but tonight I'm just too nervous to think anything on me looks amazing.
I hurry to my bathroom to rub some lotion on my legs and arms, then take off my head scarf and fix my hair.
I'm just finishing putting on my lip gloss when my doorbell rings, and I hurry to answer it. I grab my purse and put my phone and wallet inside of it. I take a deep breath before opening the door, but quickly feel it catch once I see Beckett.
He's wearing a cream-colored dress shirt that has short sleeves and shows off his amazing arms, and tattoos. Black dress slacks cover his long legs, and he has a pair of nice dress shoes on. He's wearing one of his fancy watches, and has his hair slicked back from his handsome face.
As if his gorgeous face and ensemble aren't enough to make me swoon, he is holding a vase with an exquisite bouquet of flowers inside of it.
His eyes move over my outfit, lingering on my breasts, before gliding up to meet my eyes. I instantly know that I chose the right thing to wear tonight after all.
"Hello, angel. You look delectable ," he rasps.
"Thank you, Beckett. You look very handsome yourself," I respond, smiling as I let him inside.
He hands the vase to me carefully. "Thank you. These are for you."
I lean down to inhale the sweet smell of the flowers, admiring them. "These are magnificent, Beckett. This was so thoughtful of you," I say.
I set them down on my side table in the entranceway. "I'll find the perfect spot for them when I get back."
I hesitate for a moment but find my courage and move to give him a hug.
He instantly wraps his arms around me and I relax my head against his chest. He always smells so good, and feels so warm and inviting. It is strange how comfortable I feel being in his embrace only knowing him for such a short time.
I pull away after a few moments, and he rubs his thumb over my cheek, his blue eyes blazing down at me. "I could enjoy just doing this all night, but we do have reservations and a bit of a drive, angel," he says, the corner of his mouth lifting.
I laugh, "Right. Let's get going."
We get on the road to Charlestown and Beckett turns on some music. The intro of Jodeci's "Forever my Lady" plays through his speakers.
My head snaps towards him, "You like Jodeci?" I ask, unable to hide my surprise.
"Love them. I grew up listening to them and Boyz to Men. 90's music is still undefeated in my mind," he says, grinning over at me.
"It really is!" I laugh. "No matter how many new songs I listen to, nothing feels the same as when I listen to older music. I don't know if it's nostalgia, or if they just don't make songs as good as they used to."
"I think it's a little bit of both, honestly," he says, turning down the hill.
We both talk about how our day has been, and he explains a little more about his job to me. "Why did you move here from Charlestown?" he asks.
I fidget with my fingers, thinking of how to respond. I normally just tell people that I needed a change after living in Charlestown my whole life. I don't get into the other details, but Beckett has been a good friend to me, and I feel like I can be honest with him.
"I was ready to live somewhere that I could really feel like I could just be myself," I respond. "Living in Charlestown I always felt like I was a bit under my mother and stepfather’s thumbs, and even as an adult I couldn't get away from their opinions, or constant advice on how I could improve my life. I also didn't really have any very close friends there anymore. My best friend from high school moved to Redland and we mostly just talk over the phone now, or see each other maybe a few times a year. I was acquainted with a few teachers at the school where I was working, but it was very surface level relationships, you know what I mean? Everyone there is always so busy, or has their own family, or kids to spend time with."
He glances at me and nods. "I get that, I really do. I mean you know I only have one close friend, Bobby, and he is married. I definitely feel like a third wheel going out with him and Natalie sometimes," he says. "But not having a lot of people around me doesn't bother me."
I lift an eyebrow, a bit surprised by his response. I assumed that a man like him would be surrounded by friends and people wanting to get to know him. Especially women.
"It didn't bother me that much, but it was kind of lonely sometimes. I like it here so much better. I've made genuine friendships again," I say.
"I'm glad you found some good people here, angel. You said you weren't getting along with your mom and stepfather, but what about your biological dad?" he asks.
My heart sinks like it does whenever I think about my real dad. "My dad and I were very close. He was always supportive of me, and was kind of the buffer between my mother and me. But he died when I was fifteen. He had a stroke."
Beckett reaches over and takes my hand in his resting it on his leg. "I'm so sorry, angel. That's horrible," he apologizes, his voice strained.
My lower lip trembles but I fight back my tears. I wait a moment to speak, taking in a breath. "It was really terrible. And then my mother remarried just two years later to Carey after she met him when she was shopping for a used car. He owns a dealership in Charlestown," I continue, unable to disguise the bitterness from my voice.
"You're not a fan of him," Beckett states, rubbing his thumb over the back of my hand. "Why?"
I look up at him and see his jaw clenched. "Because he has never shown the slightest interest in getting to really know me. He acts like spending time with me is a chore, but has no problem agreeing with my mother’s criticism of me. He has his own kids he had before he met my mother, and didn't want to deal with another child. I guess his are already so perfect," I explain.
"My mother is always making excuses for his attitude, even though it's plain as day how he feels. She's just happy to be living a better life," I say.
"How can her life be better if you two don't get along?" he asks.
I twist my mouth, feeling a little embarrassed to be telling him the worst parts of my life. But he gives me a reassuring look, and I decide to continue.
"I-um. We didn't really have a lot of money at all when I was growing up. My dad worked hard, but he was a school janitor and didn't make much money. My mother worked part time as a seamstress. We lived in a tiny two-bedroom trailer that always needed some kind of repairs done to it," I explain, recalling the memories of having buckets in our living room on more than one occasion when it stormed.
"I worked after school and tried to help my mom as much as I could when my dad passed, but things were even harder for us. Then my mom started dating Carey. Now she doesn't have to work at all, and lives in a nice big house just outside of downtown."
Beckett scowls as he continues to look out of his windshield. "But her only biological child was unhappy. So that shouldn't have been the happiest time in her life. She shouldn't have ignored your feelings Selah," he insists.
"That's just life sometimes," I mutter. “Even though her actions still hurt, it's much easier to handle both of them now that we don't live as close to each other.”
"What about you? I know you said that your dad passed away, but you've never mentioned your mom," I ask, ready to change the subject.
"My mom, Charlotte, died when I was only two years old. I don't remember her," he explains, glancing over at me. "My father told me he was devastated when she died, but felt like I needed a mother figure to take care of me. Unfortunately, he somehow found the least maternal replacement available," he explains, shaking his head. "And that's how Charlie was born just two years after my mother was buried."
I take my turn to rub his hand and comfort him. Our stories feel so similar, losing one parent, and then dealing with a stepparent we really dislike. I can’t imagine having to deal with all of that at such a young age though. I’m thankful that when my mother met Carey I was almost out of high school.
"I'm so sorry, Beckett. That's a lot to happen so early in your life."
He looks down at my fingers tracing over his hand and nods, "It wasn't the easiest growing up with my stepmother and Charlie, but I made the best of it. We have to manage whatever cards we are dealt, right?" he responds, giving me a small smile.
We keep talking and our conversation flows so well that I don't even realize that we are in Charlestown until I see us turning onto a familiar road.
"Are we going to Easton's for dinner?" I ask, my eyes widening as I look out of my window.
"We are, yes. Have you been there? The menu looked great when I checked it online," he responds.
"I haven't been there, no. It was just built two years ago, and it's pretty.. expensive," I say, already trying to think of what I'll be able to afford there.
Easton's is a fancy steakhouse that a lot of tourists who come in town for the Brimstone Ski Resort like to dine at. It's way out of the budget I had in mind for going out tonight, and I also have no clue if they have healthy options for me to choose from.
"Well I guess we will be checking it out for the first time together then," Beckett says, looking completely unbothered as he parks his car. "Stay there. I'll open your door, sweetheart."