“Let me treat you.” His eyes bounce back and forth between mine, his smile fading. “I don’t know who taught you that you shouldn’t be treated—no, I do, and he’s a piece of shit. But this is my way of saying you do deserve this. Okay?”
I bite my bottom lip, teasing. “Fine. Agreed.”
“Sit,” he says, and we both laugh when we settle into the chairs with pained sighs.
“What’s hurting you?” I ask.
Leaning back, he laughs. “Good Lord, everything. You?”
“My back, mostly. Maisie’s doing this fun thing where she doesn’t want to nurse, so every time she eats, it’s a wrestling match. I know I need to stretch more, but I just don’t have the time. Or the energy.”
“I’ll get you into the spa for a massage tomorrow.” He hands me a mug. “In the meantime, this’ll help.”
The spiked cider warms my hand as the smell of it—apples, cinnamon, whiskey—wafts up to greet me. “I’m not supposed to drink on my meds, but this smells too tasty not to try.”
“You sure?” Beau cuts me a look. “I can get you the regular cider if you’d like.”
I tap my mug against his. “I’ll just have a few sips.”
“Cheers, Bel. I’m glad you came.”
“Me too.” My eyes water when I take a sip. It’s sweet, tart, and very strong. “Whew. That dog’ll hunt.”
Beau grins. “Isn’t the expression ‘that dog won’t hunt’?”
“Yeah. But I kinda like my version better. Especially when you’re talking about cocktails. Matt says it all the time.”
“I’m glad he was so cool about you taking more leave. Are you looking forward to going back to work? Once you feel better, I mean?” Beau asks, meeting my eyes over the rim of his mug.
Lifting a shoulder, I settle my drink in my lap. “Yes and no. I’m looking forward to having some measure of freedom back during the day. I miss my co-workers and miss not having my day steamrolled by a crying baby. But my hours on the desk are really long—”
“Still seven to six, right?”
“Yup. Plus, all the travel… I’m not sure how I’m going to pull off that schedule with a baby. I’m terrified of it blowing up in my face. And I’m nervous about leaving Maisie with someone else all day.”
“What’d you end up doing about the nanny?”
“I’m going to pay her for the time. Sucks, but I promised her a March first start date, so…” I shake my head. “Jesus, talking about it all really stresses me out.”
Beau sips his drink. “So let’s talk about something else.”
“Like you. How the hell have you been? And where is Gretchen?”
When he pauses, my heart skips a beat, but I ignore it.
“We broke up,” he says slowly, looking at the fire.
Beau looks…sad, sure, but also kinda relieved.
He’s not one to wallow, and he’d hate my sympathy. So what do you say when you’re not that sorry to know he put the kibosh on his relationship with his extremely gorgeous girlfriend?
“That’s a bummer. I’m sorry.” I wince. That wasn’t very sincere, Annabel. Glancing at him, my eyes rake over his handsome profile. “It was the Prince Albert, wasn’t it? That scared her off?”
Beau lets out a bark of laughter and sets down his mug. “From my experience, girls liked the Prince Albert, thank you very much. Nah, I took that out a while ago.”
“I still can’t believe you pierced your dick.”
“It was spring break in Myrtle Beach, okay?” He takes off his hat and tugs a hand through his hair, giving me the side-eye. “Everyone was doing stupid shit. Like getting tattoos of butterflies on their hips that look like gremlins.”
My turn to laugh. “Hey. At least I have the courage to live with my terrible decisions. My gremlin is still there. Looking better than ever, by the way, thanks to all my loose post-pregnancy skin.”
“I’m sure your gremlin looks just fine.”
“Remember the—”
“Dutch Galleon?” I smile. “How could I forget that fine establishment? Myrtle Beach at its best. I’m still not over you getting us kicked out for, like, ever. ‘Sir, where are your pants?’”
Beau laughs, real and loud, and a curl of pure, poignant happiness spirals through my middle. It feels good, getting my sense of humor back.
Feels good, finishing my best friend’s sentences.
At the same time, we gesture rudely to our groins, and say, “ ‘I’m not keeping this junk in any trunk.’”
“Made absolutely no sense,” I say, laughing along with him.
“None whatsoever.”
“And then you pulled down the back of your little boxer brief things,” I say.
“And that girl slapped my bare ass?” Beau shakes his head. “Lord, we had that bouncer fixin’ for a fight.”
“Good thing I was there to pay him off with menthol cigarettes.”
“Oh my God! The menthols!”
“How bad do you miss those?”
“They’re so gross.”
“And so good.”
“So good.” Beau extends his knuckles for a pound. “You swooped in and saved me just in time, like usual. Damn, Bel. We were fun.”