I shake my head. Of course.
Of course she thinks about me and my shit when she’s the one who’s drowning.
“Remember when you told me moms have superhuman strength? You’re proving yourself right, how many years later. You’re thinking about me and looking out for me. You want to help even though your life isn’t exactly rosy at the moment.”
Bel blushes. “I said that? Wow. I don’t remember.”
“It was in an email you sent back in college when my dad wasn’t doing well. I really appreciated that thought.”
“Is that what you’re saying? That you’re using me for my insane mom superpowers?”
“If you’ll let me. But in the meantime, the doctors are doing what they can to help me with my symptoms. Lots of therapy. Meds for the depression. Gym is still my happy place, and that does help. Getting that energy out, feeling good physically. But seeing Daddy spiral… Bel, I know what the end looks like, and it ain’t pretty. He was all bad at the end. I won’t do that to you.”
Understatement if there ever was one.
To most people, Riley Beauregard is a legend.
To us, he’s a tragedy. There’s a reason Mama doesn’t talk about that time. Just like there’s a reason our beef with the Kingsleys ended when my dad’s life did.
Before he hit forty, Daddy was kind. Hard working. A good husband and father.
After, he was incoherent, mean, and a menace.
Bel rolls her lips between her teeth, then looks at me for a beat. And another. “You think you’re going to end up like him? That’s why you don’t want a repeat of last night? Because you think you’ll just fall apart, the way he did. That you’ll end up breaking my heart.”
Hearing her say it—Jesus fuck, it’s like a bullet straight to the chest.
For several seconds, I can’t speak. The tightness in my throat is downright painful.
I try to clear it. When I finally do get the words out, my voice is like gravel.
“I saw what Mama went through with Daddy. We all went through it. I’m not doing that to you, honey. I won’t do it to Maisie, either. Y’all deserve the world. A real future to share with someone you can grow old with. Someone who’s gonna be a good daddy to that baby. As great as it sounds being that man down the road, I—” My voice breaks. I clear it again. “It ain’t me, all right? My father, he seemed to change overnight. There was no warning.”
Bel looks down at our hands. She’s shaking her head, making her hair fall in her face. “Why you don’t keep women around—”
“Yup. I think my heart knew long before my head ever did. Which, when you think about it, makes a sick kinda sense.”
She scoffs. “Maybe this is the wrong thing to say. But I’m not asking for your forever, Beau. I mean, I probably shouldn’t…” Shrugging, she looks up at me, then sighs. “Never mind.”
“No. Finish the thought.” Some part of me—the sick part—wants to hear her say it. Guess I just wanna torture myself. The way I do at the gym every day. Bring myself to the breaking point, because the push feels good. Even if it leaves me shaking.
Her eyes flick to meet mine. She ducks her head a little, suddenly shy. “When we were younger, I wanted to be the one for you. I wanted to date you seriously. If that’s how things end up…well, we can cross that bridge when we get there. But right now—at this time in our lives—I’m thinking…well, while we’re being painfully honest, I guess I just want to be with you. Whatever that looks like. Casually, not casually. At the end of the day, I just want you to make me feel the way you did last night. I haven’t felt like myself since I peed on a stick all those months ago. But at the dock house—being with you like that—I did feel like myself. Finally.”
I grab my glass and take a sip. I shouldn’t ask her because it’s just gonna make me hurt worse. But I do.
“What does that mean?”
Shoulders set, she meets my gaze head-on with vulnerability in her eyes.
“It means I felt free. I felt like a red-blooded woman, not a dairy cow or a cranky first-time mother. I felt—” she looks up, searching for the words, then looks back down—“known and seen and safe. I guess being with you like that just made me feel hopeful again. You gave me hope that I’m gonna be okay, and that eventually I’ll find my way again.”
Her voice wavers on that last bit, and she wipes away a tear with the flat of her hand.
I’m dying here. In every sense of the word.
“Maybe that makes me selfish, wanting it to happen a second time, and a third,” she continues. “But I have to be honest. Be honest with me, Beau. How did it make you feel?”