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“Welcome back,” he murmurs. “I missed y’all.”
I stayed at Beau’s last night and stayed this morning, too, for breakfast. I was going to leave after that, give us both some time alone. I’m still figuring out this weird cohabitation thing we’re trying.
But then Beau offered to make BLTs for lunch with the thick-cut bacon they smoke right here on the farm, and I wasn’t about to say no to that. Hell, I would’ve stayed all day if I hadn’t needed a shower, some clothes, and access to all the lotions and potions necessary to make me look halfway human.
In the two hours I was gone, I missed him.
I’m about to say so, but Milly nudges between us, wrapping me in a tight hug.
“You two can make out later,” she whispers in my ear. “Let the rest of us have y’all for a little bit.”
She loops her arm through mine and leads me into the house. I get hugs from Samuel, Rhett, and Hank along the way.
I’m hit by a delicious smell, something homey and garlicky.
“My famous roast chicken,” Samuel says, pressing a glass of sparkling water into my hand. “Simple, but a total crowd pleaser.”
“Smells insane.”
“Wait till you taste it.”
Coming into the kitchen, Beau spears his brother with a glare. “Wherever you were going with that, Samuel, stop. Right now.”
“Noted.” Samuel salutes his brother. Then he cuts a naughty look my way. “Such a curmudgeon, that one.”
My lips twitch. “We’re working on it.”
I follow Milly and Beau onto the wide back porch. Mom gasps at the view. Against the fiery colors of sunset, the mountains look almost purple now, the trees that blanket them shrouded in mist.
The heat from the nearby fireplace warms the subtle bite in the air now that we’re in the shade.
Hank offers me a tray of these mini ham-and-blueberry-jam biscuits that are so good, I have to stop myself from devouring the entire plate. Then there are fried heirloom tomatoes, first of the season, topped with whipped feta cheese and a drizzle of honey.
“Good?” Beau comes to stand beside me.
“So good,” I say around a mouthful of tomato. I wash it down with the sparkling water and feel myself begin to buzz.
It’s not alcohol, clearly. It’s the feeling of being surrounded by all the good things life has to offer. Friends, family, fried food.
Maisie is sitting happily on Mrs. B.’s hip. Rhett fusses over her and lets her pull on his beard, bless his heart. He makes a face, an exaggerated grimace, and this tickles my daughter to no end.
Mom and Larry, still holding hands, are chatting animatedly with Hank and Milly about Southern wedding traditions. Samuel is arguing with Rhett about the merits of dark versus white meat.
We’re in this big, fancy house, drinking fancy drinks at a five-star resort with professional athletes.
But I don’t feel intimidated at all. Sinking into a rocking chair beside the fire, I feel comfortable. At home.
Beau’s got the baby now. Our gazes catch across the porch, and he smiles, holding up Maisie’s tiny hand to wave at me.
I wave back, the ache inside me intensifying as I watch Beau bat away Samuel’s attempts to take Maisie from him.
“But it’s my turn to hold her,” he pouts. “Mom, Beau won’t share the baby!”
Mrs. B, who’s talking to Mom and Larry, just smiles and rolls her eyes. “You boys share, you hear? Don’t make me get the spoon.”
“I’ll get it for you, Mama,” Rhett says. “I’ll beat ’em for you too, if you want.”
Beau’s family is loud and obnoxious and inappropriate, and I couldn’t adore them more if I tried.
The sound of a cork popping as Hank opens another bottle of champagne.
The smell of a real, wood-burning fire.
The feel of its warmth, seeping through my leggings.
My brain starts to whir again. How cool would it be if this were every Sunday night?
“So, have you guys said the L word yet?”
Milly plops into the rocking chair beside mine, crossing her legs.
I purse my lips, looking down at my water. Bubbles glide up the sides of the glass, unhurried.
I should be annoyed by her nosiness, but that’s not how the Beauregard family works. They care too much.
They’re too close.
I’m close with Milly. We became fast friends the moment we met when she came to visit Beau junior year at Chapel Hill. Ever since, we’ve kept in touch.
I look back up at her. Milly’s smile softens. “What are you waiting for?”
“I’m not sure.” I shrug. “We’re in this weird, wonderful place where we’re just kind of…living in the moment, I guess, and enjoying each other’s company. I don’t want to ruin that.”
Because really, that’s all we have.
“He’s happier when you’re around. We’ve all noticed a difference. The other morning, Hank caught him whistling. Can you fucking imagine? Beau whistling?” Milly shakes her head, tipping back her champagne. “Next thing you know, he’ll be shaking hands with Nate Kingsley.”
