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Beau asked himself if he could go upstairs, go to bed and never think of Lola again. Bragg wouldn’t care either way. He’d walk out of the airport right now, so long as he got paid. Lola and Beau had both hurt each other, but the score would never feel even. How long could it go on? He didn’t know, but he couldn’t forget her. He hadn’t in ten years, and he wouldn’t ten years from now. He had to confront her. A small part of him wondered if she wanted him to find her. If she’d made that one credit card charge hoping he’d follow it.
“Can we drop this already and eat some lasagna?” Brigitte asked, sighing as she pulled the oven open.
“Why?”
She slid the dish out and set it on the stove. “Because I’m hungry, and this discussion isn’t—”
“No,” he interrupted. “Why do I need to take this exit she’s given me?”
Brigitte rolled her eyes, removing the oven mitts. “I don’t want to see you get hurt yet again. She’s put you through enough, and she isn’t worth it. Clearly, she doesn’t even want to be around you.”
Beau folded his arms against his chest and leaned back on the counter. Brigitte never wanted to see him get hurt, and that was why she’d hated Lola from day one. Brigitte and Beau had always decided who got close enough to find their well-hidden weak spots. They’d only been teenagers when the car accident had killed their parents. With his dad’s death came the news of his affair with Brigitte’s mom. It’d been a day—a lifetime—of struggling with hurt and anger, loss and betrayal. Beau didn’t think of it much anymore, but it affected how he dealt with others. Until Lola, he hadn’t had a good enough reason to let anyone close.
“Maybe it’s time we start living in the real world again, Brigitte. Where people get hurt and they fuck up. Then they come out stronger. Didn’t we come out stronger after what we went through?”
“Yes, you and I—”
“I mean as individuals,” Beau clarified. “Not as a unit. Maybe it made us too strong.”
“That’s ridiculous.” She waved a spatula in his direction. “Who are you right now? You sound like a therapist.”
Beau didn’t have to be a therapist to see she was deflecting. He wasn’t ready to change the topic, though, and that was unlike him when it came to Brigitte and serious issues. Ever since his breakfast-dinner with Dina Winters, he’d been wondering when he’d become so disconnected from people.
“Let me ask you something,” he said. “When’s the last time you went on a date?”
She looked over at him, her eyes huge. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“Since when do you care?”
“Answer the question. Or are you afraid to?”
“I got out with men all the time.”
“I mean someone who actually interests you. Not a potential investor or a business contact.”
She twisted her lips. “Don’t turn this conversation on me. This is about you and your control issues. Letting go of Lola is the best thing—”
“I see.” Beau was annoyed with her as usual, but he couldn’t help a small smile. “So everything’s about you except what you don’t feel like talking about?”
“Everything is not about me. You’re frustrated with yourself, and you’re taking it out on me so you don’t have to deal with it.” She dug the spatula into the lasagna. “Let’s just have a nice dinner and forget the rest until tomorrow morning. After some good food and rest, you’ll see I’m right as usual.”
Beau’s smiled eased. He’d been supporting Brigitte financially for a long time, but she was the one who took care of him. He’d never asked for it—he didn’t even need it. Because it wasn’t for him. She did it for herself. “I’m not enough for you, Brigitte. This, us—it’s not enough.”
She cut squares into the lasagna, the utensil methodically hitting the bottom of the glass dish. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You just want me to leave you alone.”
“You could be happy, but you choose not to be. You’re afraid if you lose me, you won’t have anything at all.”
She stopped moving, kept her profile to him. “And you’re an expert on what I need? You wouldn’t even know me if I didn’t force you to all the time. You think money is the answer to everything, including me. I’d bet you were the same with Lola. If a problem can’t be fixed with a check, all of us are shit out of luck where you’re concerned.”
Anger surged through Beau, but it died out just as quickly, as if it’d been a conditioned response. He didn’t like Brigitte’s assumption he valued his money more than Lola, but that didn’t mean it had no merit. “I’m not claiming I’ve been good at any of this. Boyfriend, brother or even friend. Yes, sometimes I send Warner in my place—because I trust him to give you what I can’t.”
She shook her head. “I don’t even know why you’re bringing him into this.”
“Yes, you do. You’re only blind or stupid when you want to be.” Beau looked hard at her, the only person he’d ever felt really close to before Lola. Brigitte was more family to him than his own mother. Even with her avoiding his eyes, he could sense her terror. Any time Beau had to leave, whether it was for a business trip or when he moved to the hotel to get some space from her, she got this way. She didn’t think she could do it on her own, but once she stopped clinging to Beau, she’d see that wasn’t true. “If you knew what would make me happy, wouldn’t you want me to have it?” he asked.
After a moment of silence, she said, “Yes.”
