Total pages in book: 179
Estimated words: 170878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 170878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
I kept my gaze on the road, despite how badly I wanted to look at Beau. He was deferring to me because he respected my opinion. My knowledge. I’d never had a man do that before.
“I don’t have a crystal ball either,” I told him honestly. “But based on what I’ve heard from her doctors, from what I’ve seen of Clara firsthand, the odds are overwhelmingly in her favor for a full recovery. For you to one day walk her down the aisle.”
Beau let out a harsh, heavy sigh, one that sounded like it held all the weight he’d been carrying. All the worry. It hurt me. Hearing how Beau was still weighed down by the pain of Clara’s illness. That he felt he had to shoulder it alone. That he had to punish himself, never allowing himself to be happy in case the moment came when it all fell apart again.
I acted on instinct, barely thinking before one of my hands left the steering wheel and found its way to Beau’s thigh.
Not high, not in a dangerous or sexual position. I’d simply intended to comfort him. I’d needed to touch him.
His thigh was warm, powerful under my palm. And his entire body froze when my hand made contact. I tensed too, terrified I’d made a terrible decision, that I’d well and truly crossed a line.
Then Beau’s palm landed on top of mine. It was so large it covered my entire hand. It was dry. Strong.
It didn’t stay there longer than five seconds. But for five seconds, I got to linger in a fantasy. One where I was allowed to touch Beau Shaw. Comfort him. One where Beau Shaw did more than let me drive his car.
One where Beau Shaw let me into his heart.
But after five seconds, I lost Beau’s hand. And my fantasy too.
nineteen
HANNAH
“Gonna need you to work tonight.”
I looked up from where I’d been knitting Clara a scarf. I’d already made her a hat. Made Nora’s new baby booties. And I’d gotten requests from all the Jupiter Tides moms for beanies once they saw what I’d made for Clara and Nora.
I looked up at Beau, who was standing as far away from the entrance to my room as humanly possible, as if stepping over the threshold would make him catch something. I’d held his hand in a quiet moment last night. But it could’ve been a dream, for all his expression was showing.
“Do you mean can I work tonight?” I replied, putting my knitting down. I spoke sharper than I ever had with Beau.
But there was a bottleneck of emotions gurgling inside of me that had me on the edge of exploding.
Yes, I was actually officially divorced from Waylon. Yes, there was a light at the end of that godforsaken tunnel. That should’ve made me happy. But happiness was a simple emotion that I’d been unable to achieve without the complexities of my past and present tainting it. I was still ashamed that Beau witnessed all of my failing, that he’d had to swoop in to save me. I was mad at myself for longing for such a physically and emotionally unavailable man, for reading into every unique look, every nonabrasive word he uttered to me, only to find him reverting back to his bad behavior all over again.
I was pissed. Scared. Sad. Angry. And I was sick to death over finding ways to make myself agreeable.
Beau studied me, having listened to my snarky response without a change in his expression.
But then his brows furrowed slightly, and he opened his mouth as if to say something before closing it again and clearing his throat.
My hands gripped my knitting needles, not because I wanted to stab him with them or anything, but because my level of frustration was soaring. How would I continue this strange dance with him? How could I ever leave?
“Can you work tonight?” The question came through gritted teeth.
I wanted to tell him no, that I had plans, that I was a busy, in-demand young woman. Except I wasn’t. And I couldn’t lie because I lived with him. Unless I really wanted to commit to the bit, get dressed up, hang out at the local bar … alone. Maybe get hit on by some drunk guy if I were lucky, get ignored by the world at large if I wasn’t. The mere thought had my throat tightening. I wasn’t the woman at the bar who got showered with attention.
Though I’d never actually hung out at a bar alone, I wasn’t going to start tonight.
“Yes.” I put down the needles. “Of course, I can work tonight.”
“Clara and I will have an inside dinner-time picnic,” I decided. “We’ll bundle up and look at the stars.”
She stargazed every night. Mostly with Beau, but on the nights he was working, I got to be there. Watching the stars, even with the crisp wind biting through my clothes, was one of my favorite things in the world.