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He took extensive breaks for breakfast, lunch, and dinner and we’d talk and tell stories and make each other laugh. He had a wicked humor underneath that dry, no-nonsense demeanor. He told me endless stories about the shit he and his friends used to get up to, as kids and then as teenagers at Darlington Prep.
It was a world I couldn’t imagine, except I could, because it came so alive through his eyes and words as he shared it.
I was more mum about my past. I still didn’t know how to share who I’d been when I wasn’t exactly proud of everything I’d done. It still seemed a little too close to the surface to talk about my former career scamming guys. My justifications that the only dudes I scammed were assholes rang a little hollow now.
It wasn’t the person I wanted to be anymore. It wasn’t the kind of mother I wanted for my son. I wanted to make an honest living, even if I tried to understand that my options had been limited at the time that Tina had taken me under her manipulative wing.
The future would be different, though, and that was all that mattered. At least that was what I told myself when the old anxieties came back.
Everything just seemed too good to be true. How could I trust this? How could I truly trust Beau?
He said he wanted to be there for me. Not just the baby, but for me. He said he wanted a future with me once we left the Oleander… but there had never been mentions of any specifics.
It was easy to wonder if they were just words said in the heat of passion. When the going got tough… would he get going? Would he leave me in the dust like every single person had before him?
When he wrapped his arms around me at night, usually after yet another exhaustive bout of lovemaking, it was easy to believe his words. His promises. It was easy to believe that a happily ever after could be possible. Even for a girl like me, who’d been thrown away like trash her entire life.
But then morning would come, and the bed beside me would be cold and empty. Beau always woke up before me and he’d be away at his desk, answering emails before breakfast.
I told myself it was silly. I was being overly needy and hormonal. I refused to be clingy and beg him to come back into bed. I would not be that woman. I wouldn’t make him pay for the sins others had committed against me in my past.
And yet the wounds that I’d thought long scabbed over felt torn open again and regularly salted until I felt like a neurotic mess. Likely it was just the damn pregnancy hormones. It was like being on a damn rollercoaster of emotions, though, and I did not fucking appreciate it!
I wanted to be fun and easy-going and attractive. Not a bloated, occasionally sobby mess. Everything I’d ever wanted but never truly dreamt I could ever have was within my reach and I was terrified I’d somehow blow it without even meaning to.
But then there was Beau. With a touch, he could ground me again. Or make me laugh. And I’d come back to the present moment and be pulled out of my stupid brain cycling over every terrible scenario and for a moment, or an hour, feel at peace.
We were just finishing up one of those luxurious lunches—where Beau sternly eyed me until I finished my entire Cobb salad. Dark leafy greens, broccoli, and eggs were all big on the Pregnancy Diet plan he and Mrs. H had cooked up. I went along with it, as long as I was able to slather on liberal amounts of bacon ranch dressing. It was delicious, and Beau was trying to coax me into eating more blueberries—high in antioxidants—when Mrs. H came in with a big white box.
I pulled back from Beau trying to shove a blueberry in my mouth to look at Mrs. H. Then I looked to Beau. His face had gone pale. It had been so long since we’d had a Trial, and the last one had been so traumatic, I think more on him than on me, in the end.
“It’ll be fine,” I said, reaching across the table and grabbing his hand. “Just think of it as a chance to slap my ass in public.”
Mrs. H didn’t say anything, she just set the box on the table, then turned around and left again.
Beau frowned. “Was that ominous? She didn’t say a thing.”
I shook my head and whispered, “Shhh. She’s just always conscious there might be other ears around.”
He nodded, then slid the box closer and lifted the lid. His eyebrows drew together and now he looked really worried.
