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“I don’t want that.”
“I can’t remember which of us said it, but on the way to Las Vegas, we agreed you and I are like siblings who fight a lot, but deep down, we care about each other—”
I cut her off. “It was you who said it after I told you I wanted you to be happy.”
“Either way, what happened doesn’t change anything. Please don’t make it weird.” I watched her go into the bedroom and flinched when she closed the door. Not because it had slammed, but because it seemed the perfect metaphor for her shutting down the possibility that we could be more than “siblings who fight a lot.”
I sat on the poorly designed but very Roycroft-looking sofa, unsure what to do next. “Don’t make it weird,” she’d said, which I supposed meant don’t talk about it. And certainly don’t do it again.It.The kiss I’d thought about, dreamed about, had been reduced to a pronoun.
I stared at the wall, wishing more than anything I could call my mum and ask her how in the hell to salvage this…this what? Friendship? Relationship? The trip? My God, at least we’d be together another seven days. I couldn’t very well hop on a plane and leave Samantha to drive to California alone, and she’d never agree to fly herself.
I shifted my body, lying down and attempting to get comfortable, but knowing I wouldn’t be able to sleep.
13
SAM
Once inside the bedroom, I buried my face in Wanda’s fur, trying as hard as I could not to cry.
The minute Beau said we should talk, I knew what was coming. He’d tell me the kiss hadn’t meant anything and that he’d never consider me more than a friend. So I said it first. Based on his stunned reaction, I was probably the only woman who’d ever let him down easy before he had the chance to do it to her.
That kiss, though. My God, he was good at it. I shouldn’t be surprised. He’d had enough practice. Unlike me, who’d dated three men in my life, none of whom stuck around longer than a few months.
But this thing with Beau? I had no idea what to do about it. If things stayed weird between us, what would I do? I was twenty-five hundred miles from home. What choice did I have other than to drive back with him?
I couldn’t imagine subjecting Wanda—or myself—to a five-day bus ride. Or longer. I shrugged and set her on the bed. On the other hand, maybe it would be easier than spending the same amount of time in close quarters with a man who didn’t have the same feelings for me that I’d developed for him.
Why in the hell had he kissed me? Was it just to prove to himself he was over Daphne? Not that it proved anything other than that he’d regretted it as soon as it ended.
We should talk.The words replayed in my head. Sticking my fingers in my ears did nothing to stop them. As much as I wanted to flop on the bed and cry, Beau might hear me. Worse, he might come in and check on me. Tell me how sorry he was. Maybe if I took a shower instead, I could cry my heart out, and he wouldn’t have a clue.
After unpacking the sweats and T-shirt I’d been sleeping in, along with my toiletries, I eased the door open. When I didn’t see Beau at first, my stomach clenched, thinking he’d left. When I heard jostling, I realized he was stretched out on the sofa I’d offered to sleep on. Sort of. He looked more uncomfortable than he had on the rollaway bed he’d asked for in Las Vegas.
I set my things on the rocking chair and crept over to him. “Beau?”
He opened his eyes and looked up at me.
“Come to bed.”
He nodded, sat up, and walked into the bedroom without saying a word. After retreating into the bathroom to change, I returned to the bed where Beau sat upright, like he did whenever he stayed at my place. Wanda was stretched out beside him, and his hand stroked her fur. I watched them, waiting for him to look at me. When he hadn’t after several seconds, I crawled under the covers with my back to him.
“You can watch a movie if you want to,” I said.
When Beau didn’t respond, I glanced over my shoulder to see if he was asleep. He was not, and he wasn’t looking at me, either. Instead, he stared at the wall.
“You don’t have to go with me tomorrow. To church, I mean.”
“I’ll go.”
“Okay, well, good night, Beau.”
“Good night, Samantha.”
When I opened my eyes,light was pouring in through the window and I was alone in bed. The only sound I heard was that of my own breathing. I checked the time on my phone, fearing I’d missed the church service, but I hadn’t. It was only seven.
I rolled out of bed and walked through the open door, happy to see Wanda, but disappointed not to see Beau. I breathed a sigh of relief after returning to the bedroom and seeing his bag was still on the floor, near mine. At least he hadn’t left. Or left for good. I was about to duck into the bathroom when I heard the door open.
Beau walked in, carrying two paper cups. “Bonjour, mademoiselle, un café?” he asked in his affected jovial tone of voice.
