Not only that, but I lived to tell the freaking tale.
I survived.
Beau texts me back as I’m nursing Maisie.
Beau: I’ll grab the lube. Any preference on type?
Annabel: Not sure. I’ve never had to use it before.
Annabel: PS how weird is it that we’re talking about this?
Beau: Weird. And awesome. What time works?
Annabel: Meh, I have a four-month-old. There’s no good time. Want to say around six?
Beau: Perfect. I’ll bring everything. Y’all just bring yourselves.
Chapter Twenty-One
Beau
“If you were to buy lube. If. What would be your favorite kind?”
Samuel strokes his chin like he’s contemplating one of life’s greatest mysteries. “Water- or oil-based?”
Standing, I walk around my desk. I need to close my office door before some poor, unsuspecting employee overhears this lovely little conversation we’re having. “Fuck if I know.”
“Go with water. You’ll have to use more of it, but since you’re a lube virgin, I think it’s the safer bet. You’ll still be able to slide right in there—”
“What’s this I’m hearing about lube?”
Milly pushes the door back open. She strides into my office like she owns the place, crossing her arms as she takes in Samuel and me.
“I’m seeking out Samuel’s professional opinion on something.”
“If you want to know what lube you should use with Annabel, you should’ve asked me. Although Samuel is right on this one.” Milly’s gaze flicks to Samuel. “You can’t use oil-based lube with condoms. You’re going to use condoms, right?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“So?”
“I hate y’all.” I tug a hand through my hair. My face is burning. “Yes, I’m going to use condoms. I’m not fifteen or an idiot.”
“Good boy.” Milly pats my shoulder before taking a seat in front of my desk, arranging the skirt of her dress neatly over her lap. “Now tell us everything.”
I fall into my chair with a pained sigh and settle my boot on the edge of the desk. “What is there to tell?”
“I thought you just said you weren’t an idiot?” She pins me with a glare. If looks could kill, Milly would be a murderess extraordinaire. I love the fact that she takes no shit. Except when she’s not taking shit from me. “We wanna know what happened between ‘Annabel and I are going to do outdoor activities together’ and ‘Annabel and I are going to do indoor activities together that require lube.’ I thought you’d given up and resigned yourself to eternal bitterness and certain death?”
I’m downright yanking on my hair now. I look anywhere but at my annoyingly inquisitive siblings.
“Me wanting Annabel doesn’t change what happened to Daddy,” I say, my voice gruff. “I’m still headed in that direction. Only thing that’s changed is how I’m viewing the present. Annabel’s making me see things differently, that’s all.”
I stayed up half the night wondering what the hell my next move should be.
I’m in love. No question about that.
I still do question, however, what kind of future I can realistically give Annabel. She deserves happiness. After spending the day with Bel at our cooking lesson, I know now that I deserve it too. Considering our heart-to-heart that day—which was promptly followed by the world’s most hilarious food fight—it’s pretty obvious we’re happiest when we’re together.
That might not always be the case. Right now, though? It is, and it’s making me want to stop putting my life on hold to enjoy whatever time we have left. Could be a week. Could be a decade. Maybe I’ll get lucky, and it could be forever.
There’s no telling what the future holds. I’m terrified of disappointing Bel in the long run, but I’m even more terrified of hurting her right now, when things are new and fragile and could blow up in our faces at any moment. It kills me that I can’t guarantee a damn thing.
But if right now is all I can give her, then you bet your bottom dollar I’m going to give right now my all. If anyone deserves to be worshipped and adored and loved, it’s Annabel.
Doesn’t hurt that she’s fucking gorgeous. Fun. Sexy.
God, I want her.
“I still think she deserves more. But she’s on board with what we can have right now. She wants us to enjoy each other. Temporarily. While we still have time.”
Samuel grins. “That so?”
“Yes. I’ve done a lot of thinking. And as long as I keep the lines of communication open between Bel and me—as long as we put our cards on the table and keep them there…” I shrug. “I don’t know. Seems like it’s worth a shot. She still likes me, still wants me, even though I’m damaged goods. Hell, she wants me because I’m damaged goods. Says it makes me more human.”
Milly’s expression softens. “That’s beautiful.”
“Amen,” Samuel adds, glancing up at the ceiling as he points his fingers heavenward. Then he gazes at me. “So when’s the wedding?”