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)
“I tend to go a little overboard for Christmas—if you can tell. I think he looked down on me for it.”
Beau’s eyes looked around my crazy apartment. “Please don’t ever stop.” His voice was everything sincere.
I bobbed my head, acknowledging his words. “Well, I guess there comes a point when we all have to accept reality. Mine is that I can’t make everyone happy.” I let go of a breath. “I’ll go see if I can dig out those clothes for you.”
“No. I’m good,” he said.
“Okay. Night, Beau.”
“Night, Meri. Sweet dreams.”
“Thanks,” I said, knowing I’d have anything but.
Tonight had been filled with so many surprises, from Kay convincing me to go to Friendsgiving, to Shawna forgiving me, to Beau showing up and my heart being overcome with relief to see him. Then he left and came back again, almost rocking my Christmas stocking. Now I was trying to bury some serious feelings. All because I genuinely cared about what happened to this man.
What a freaking night. I went to my room, closed the door, and got out my favorite stationery with the little reindeers around the edges. I needed some way to let it all out—this strange amalgamation of lust and sadness mixed with a deep, gnawing hope to see Beau happy, to find joy in his life again. It warmed my heart to imagine him free of his past even if the price of helping him was only being friends—not my first choice.
If it were up to me, he’d stay, and we’d see where this thing between us could go. Because I did want him. Just not like this. He was wrestling with some pretty difficult feelings that made him live like a fugitive.
I was wrestling with my own feelings, too, but I knew I’d be fine no matter what. I had friends and family. I had people to lean on. Unconditional love…
Yes. That was my wish for Beau. To find what I had. To know that whatever happened in life, he would be loved.
Dear Santa,
I know I’m late writing you, but maybe it’s by design. Because this year, I have a very special request. It’s not for me, but for—
I paused and exhaled.
—a friend. His name is Beau, and he is a wonderful person…
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The next morning, I expected to wake up alone, my wanderer gone in search of something to fill the gaping hole in his heart. But to my utter joy, I found Beau in my kitchen, making pancakes. The entire apartment smelled like buttery carbs, cinnamon, and maple syrup.
“Hi,” I said, walking on eggshells, afraid I might wake up from this dream.
“Hey. I made coffee. Breakfast will be ready soon.”
I smiled, quietly melting. He’d stayed. He’d fucking stayed. “Can I help?”
“You can set the table?”
A sit-down breakfast. “Sure.” I went to the corner of my small living room and pulled my little table away from the wall. I didn’t eat here much, since it was usually only me, but it was absolutely an occasion to bust out the four leaves.
I got everything ready, and Beau came out with the biggest stack of hotcakes I’d ever seen. He quickly returned with coffee, butter, and syrup.
I took a sip from my mug, tasting an explosion of dark, nutty goodness. “Did you buy this?”
“I couldn’t sleep, so I walked to the store and got a few things. Oh, and Shawna dropped my stuff off, too. I ran into her outside.”
I bet she hit on him again, too. Grrr… I tamped down my ridiculous jealousy. “Thank you. This coffee is great.”
“I blended it myself—espresso beans with Kona. I added some cocoa extract and a drop of hazelnut.”
“Wow.” I took another sip. “It’s amazing.”
“Try my pancakes. They’re made with almond flour and coconut for texture and flavor.”
“Where did you learn to cook?”
“My mother. Baking was mandatory at our house.”
“I love baking,” I said. “But my specialty is cookies.”
“Bread is baked for the stomach, but cookies are baked from the heart—as my mother used to say.”
“How long ago did she pass away?”
He took a bite of his food, hesitating to answer. “About eleven years ago.”
That would have been before the factory fire. “I’m really sorry. It must’ve been hard. Do you have any siblings?”
“I do not.”
“Then even harder.” He’d had to go through it with his grieving father.
“She was the heart of our family, but she lives on in here.” He pointed to his chest.
“And here.” I took a bite of my pancakes and rolled my eyes in bliss. They were fluffy and chewy with hints of almond. “So good.” I chewed and swallowed. “Did she teach you this recipe?”
“Yes.”
“I think she and I would’ve gotten along.” I smiled and took another bite, thinking about what I’d just learned. “Do you think her death had anything to do with why your father is keeping you away?”