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He’s stone faced. His features carefully schooled into a neutral expression. But his eyes are wet, and they give him away.
“This is where you were born.”
“Yep.”
“Where all of you were born.”
He nods.
“And where your daddy—”
“Yes.” Beau swallows. His knuckles on the stroller handle are white. Another tell of his I never noticed until recently. “They brought him back here for the viewing after he…”
I glide my hand up to his shoulder and give it a squeeze. “I’m so sorry.”
Beau looks down, shaking his head. “I have a lot of great memories of this house. Our childhood was pretty damn magical. Mama was a miracle worker. And Daddy, when he was well, he was a kind, good man. And then it all just kind of blew up. One Christmas he was fine, and by Easter, he wasn’t.”
Maisie is watching us, squinting against the sun that slants into the stroller.
Beau looks up at me meaningfully.
The kind of look that turns me inside out.
The confession kiss—that was nothing compared to this.
“Were you ever going to restore it?” I try. I need to keep him talking before I lose him. “The house?”
Beau shrugs. “We’ve got plans to turn this part of the mountain into this whole complex. A bigger spa, some tennis courts maybe. Nature trails. But I can’t bring myself to pull the trigger. Part of me thinks I should just bulldoze the house and build over it. But another part… I guess I like having the reminder. So I haven’t touched it.”
I see.
I see the house for what it is.
I see what’s happening here, and it’s breaking my heart.
A lump forms in my throat. This place has ghosts. The ghost of my future, and the ghosts of Beau’s past.
But maybe—
Maybe we have something to learn from those ghosts.
Maybe they have something important to teach us.
“None of you wanted to live in it?” I ask.
“Milly mentioned it a few times, but when I had the plans for her new house drawn up, she dropped the idea. My brothers…this isn’t nearly fancy enough for them. An eight-room farmhouse? Could you imagine fancy-schmancy Samuel living here?”
I laugh, the lump swelling. “I guess not.”
“Funny, but when we were little, the house felt huge. We’d play hide and seek for hours and still not find each other.” His gaze flicks to Maisie. “I loved growing up here.”
“I can see that.” My turn to swallow. “Seems like a great place to raise a family.”
He turns his head to look at me. His handsomeness is piercing. The perfect, masculine proportions of his face. The imperfect scruff of his beard. The way the sun catches on his eyelashes, giving them a reddish hue. Same as that beard.
“If I was ever going to do it, I would’ve wanted to do it with you, Bel. Right here, in the house I called home.”
Tears press against the backs of my eyes. The burn makes me blink, hard.
The words are on the tip of my tongue. Don’t give up on that dream. Give us a chance. Our story can be different.
But what can I say that I haven’t already? We’ve been over this a hundred times. And each time, Beau shoots me down. I want to tell him we’ll make this house a home again. A haven for both of us. For Maisie, and—
I draw a shaky breath, wiping my eyes. Beau doesn’t say anything. He just kisses the top of my head, his lips lingering on my hair a beat too long.
Maisie starts to fuss. Saved by the baby.
“We should get back,” I say. “She’s getting hungry.”
Mom doesn’t get home till late.
Very late. She arrives, eyes bright and face flushed, and I wish Beau were here so I could exchange a meaningful slash grossed-out look with him.
“Hey, sweetheart!” She greets me with a kiss and a tight hug, then glances at the monitor. “She go down okay?”
I pull back, a little bewildered. “Yep. Down at seven on the dot. You look…refreshed.”
“I had the loveliest afternoon.” Mom grabs a bottle of flavored water from the fridge and pours us each a glass. “Larry and I went horseback riding on these trails around the mountain. Our guide was amazing.”
I sip my water. “Sounds nice.”
“And then we took a pastry class where we learned how to make chocolate croissants.” Mom is beaming. “It was way too much work, so I’ll probably never make them again. But Larry, he had me laughing so hard. Have you noticed he looks like—”
“Robert Redford?” I take another sip of water. “Yep.”
She sighs, glancing out the windows behind the kitchen table. “Such a stud. He’s a great kisser, too.”
I’m gulping my water now, not for the first time wishing it were something stronger. I miss wine. “I’m happy for you, Mom. But can we agree to, uh, draw the line there? Anything past that and I’m going to have to charge you with oversharing.”
