Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 47241 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47241 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
So that was what he meant in his letter. “But why is time almost out?” I asked.
“He’s getting ready to retire,” Beau said.
“And?”
“He plans to shut down the factory. Permanently.”
That was odd. “Didn’t he just rebuild it? I mean, after the fire?”
“That was ten years ago.”
My jaw dropped. “How long have you been living on the road?”
“Ten years.”
Jesus. “And how long have you been trying to go back?”
“Eight.”
Eight years? He’d been asking for forgiveness for eight freaking years. “What does your dad want from you? What’s his definition of change?”
Beau scrubbed his face with his hands. “It doesn’t matter now. It’s over. I have to accept that he was probably never going to allow me to return. Maybe this was his way of teaching me a lesson.”
“A lesson in what?” Turning your back on your children when they royally fuck up?
“Disappointment.”
“Oh, Beau.” I squeezed his arm again.
“Do not feel sorry for me. I deserve this. And it is time for me to move on—accept that some things cannot be undone no matter how much you wish it.”
I smiled softly, hoping he might feel better knowing that there was at least one person who didn’t agree that all was lost.
“Well,” I said in a cheery voice, “then consider tonight the beginning of a fresh start. You’ll meet some very nice people and enjoy the night of friendship. Also, gluttony. Tonight your life of deprivation ends.”
“I should just get going.” He glanced in the direction he’d been walking.
“To where, Beau? To your tent?”
“There’s a bus leaving for the Mexican border in an hour.”
A flutter of panic began dancing in my stomach. I didn’t want him to go. “Mexico sounds good. Probably a lot warmer than here, but…if it’s really over, then why keep torturing yourself? Stay. Start a new life.”
He looked down at his feet. “I’m not sure I can.”
“You haven’t even tried.” I had to convince him to stay. He’d started to occupy a space in my head, and I liked it. I liked him. “It’s only one dinner, and Kay’s stuffing is fairly edible. The turkey isn’t bone dry. After that, you can decide what comes next. There’ll always be more busses to Mexico.”
“I would…enjoy that,” he said and then gazed down, the streetlamp catching the subtle blues of his eyes. “Why are you so kind to me?”
I smiled timidly, my cheeks warming. “Don’t you know? I’m really into Christmas, and you remind me of a big box under the tree.”
“I’m hardly a gift.”
“But you are a mystery, waiting to be unwrapped.” I shrugged. “What can I say? It’s my thing.”
“Are you saying that I’m your thing?”
My heart picked up the pace. “You’ll have to stick around long enough to find out.” I took his hand and squeezed it.
“Stick around.” He bobbed his head, mulling over the idea.
“One dinner at a time, Beau. One breakfast, lunch, and dinner at a time.”
“You must be hungry for that not bone-dry turkey.”
I was hungry. But not for food. “I’m famished.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“That was more enjoyable than I thought,” said Beau as we drove toward my place after dinner.
“Kay does make it fun. I especially like playing Who’s the Turkey?” During dinner, everyone was assigned a card with a Thanksgiving dish written on it—green beans, gravy, sweet potatoes, etc.—and we all took turns guessing who got the turkey card. If you guessed wrong, you had to drink or take a punishment from the person you incorrectly called out, like singing a song, tap dancing for twenty seconds, or eating those nasty canned yams. If you guessed the turkey correctly, you got to hand out drinks or punishments to the entire group. If you happened to have the turkey card, then you pretended you didn’t and played along until you were directly called out. I don’t think we’d ever made it past three rounds until tonight.
“How did you guess the turkey five times in a row?” I asked.
“I can tell when people are lying or hiding something. It’s a gift.”
“So you have a built-in BS meter?” I stopped at a light.
“Something like that.”
“So tell me, what am I hiding?” I asked.
“You really want to know?”
“Hmmm…maybe not. I’ve had a lot of frank feedback from my friends lately. And let’s just say I’m working through some things now.”
“Such as?” he asked.
“Apparently, I am a people pleaser, I have an unhealthy obsession with Christmas, and I spend too much on other people. I’m also overly self-conscious but not self-aware enough—whatever that means.” I turned my head and waited for his reaction.
He didn’t really have one.
The light turned green, and we continued on.
After a few minutes, his lack of response started making me uneasy. Finally, when we pulled up to my building, I had to ask. “Are you just going to leave me hanging?” I said as I shut off the engine.