Page 60 of When Lemons Give You Life

“Debatable.” I wink, handing him a sandwich instead of the dessert.

He pouts but takes a big bite, sighing like it’s the best thing he’s ever eaten. “God, you’re a genius.”

“It’s a sandwich, Beau.”

“It’s your sandwich, which makes it better than anything I’ve ever made in my life.”

I roll my eyes again, but his words sit somewhere warm in my chest. He does this, makes me feel like I’m something special without even trying.

A rustling sound makes me glance toward the edge of the trees. A scrawny dog is hovering near the scrub, eyeing us with cautious interest. Its ribs show through patchy fur, tail twitching.

“Hey, mate, who do you belong to?” I ask.

I reach for the wrapped half of my smoked salmon panini and tear off a generous chunk. “You look hungry,” I say softly, placing the offering a few feet away.

The dog inches closer, sniffing the air. A few seconds later, it’s devouring the fish like it hasn’t eaten in days.

Beau watches me with a smile tugging at his mouth. “See, this is what I keep telling Lisa. Soft as jelly.”

I shake my head, settling back on the rug. “That’s thirty-six hours of brining and cold-smoking, gone in two bites.”

He brushes a crumb from my chin. “I saw your face. You’d give up the whole picnic if he looked at you twice. That’s why I love you. Even the wild ones trust you.”

My ears go hot. “We should take him to the vet, see if he’s microchipped.” As I turn back, though, the mutt has already run away. I call out and search for him but it’s no use.

“Aww, you wanted to keep him, didn’t you?” Beau says, clocking my glum face. “Lisa would have scrubbed him up nice, too.” He pauses, his face falling. “I wish you’d call her.”

“It’s just too hard.” I sigh, bracing for the argument we’ve had more times than I can count.

“She’s tougher than you think. I know I’ve said it a thousand times, but if you’d just open up about her dad—”

“I can’t, Beau. I swore to Mum I wouldn’t. You haven’t said anything, have you?”

“No, I promised you I wouldn’t, and it’s not my story to tell, but it’s put me in an impossible situation.” Beau exhales sharply through his nose as he snatches a stick from beside the rug and breaks it in half.

The crack jolts through me. For a heartbeat, doubt flares, then settles the way it always does beneath the oath I made to Mum. Hold the line. Keep it buried. Protect Lisa. I hate that Beau is caught in the crossfire, the mess I’ve made for him, yet the line I drew all those years ago feels like the only one I can live with. I place a hand on his shoulder. “I really am so sorry to make you carry this.”

He looks at me through narrowed eyes, his angry expression slipping away. “You’re lucky you have such a cute face!” He tousles my hair.

I pull out a bunch of grapes and set it between us.

Beau frowns. “Did you forget the strawberries?”

“No.” I pause. “You said they’ve been tasting like cardboard lately, so we should get grapes instead.”

His forehead creases. “Did I?”

I nod.

He hesitates, then pops a grape into his mouth, chewing slowly. “Huh. Well, good call, then.”

I stretch out beside him, elbow to elbow, and let the silence settle. A cicada drones in the reeds. The air smells like warm grass and lemon zest. I could fall asleep right here, in the sun, next to him.

But Beau doesn’t lie back. He reaches for the case resting beside the basket and carefully lifts his viola into his lap.

“Now?” I say, half laughing.

“I’ve written a new song,” he says, adjusting the shoulder rest.