Page 98 of Dr. Intern

“Boyfriend Beau,” I whisper, drawing my eyes back to the phone. “You can’t be serious. There’s no way that’s your favorite nickname.”

“Without a doubt it is,” he responds, clearly not in the mood to joke around. “Take out the mug.”

I set the note aside and gently lift the mug out of its crinkled paper nest. It’s simple and white, but the words written in Beau’s handwriting on each side take my breath away:

I love you.

The stark honesty of the gift sends a surge of emotions through me. Just three simple words, but they carry so much weight and meaning.

I never considered that what I’ve been feeling for Beau was love, mostly because when I’ve told people I loved them in the past, it never once felt like this. Love never felt comfortable and uncomfortable all at the same time.

Love, or what I perceived to be love, was always comfortable because it was housed in a wall of deceit. A wall of pretending to be someone I wasn’t, and funneling myself into the person that I thought I had to be. But that isn’t love—it’s a cage.

Love is supposed to challenge you. To make you uncomfortable. It’s supposed to force you to bear your ugliest parts to someone. The parts that you’ve been told to hide your whole life. The parts that you’ve been told are too loud, or too embarrassing. The parts that make you different.

And the thing is, once you let go and remove all of your masks, a new form of comfort arises. A comfort that only comes from knowing that you’ve been as vulnerable as possible with another person, and they still chose to stay.

So I guess that’s what love is in its most pure form—a swirling mix of comfort and discomfort.

And it’s exactly how I feel about Beau.

“You’ve had this for weeks,” I ask, arching my brows at him.

“Yep,” he confirms, his lips curving into a knowing smirk.

I stifle my grin, trying desperately to avoid the emotion swelling in my chest. “And you didn’t have the balls to say it to my face?”

He barks a laugh. “Well, you never called me big balls Beau, now did you?”

“No, I guess I didn’t,” I concede, appreciating the way he effortlessly diffuses tension between us. “But now I’m totally going to start. Those things are huge.”

“I know talking about feelings makes you uncomfortable, so I figured that this was a good middle ground.”His eyes hold mine through the screen, filled with acceptance and affection.

A smile blooms across my lips. Beau’s actions are always so deliberate and mindful. His intentionality was one of the things that drew me to him initially, and moments like this only reaffirm his thoughtful nature.

He’s right . . . I am uncomfortable. But, it’s the best kind of discomfort there is, which is why I tell him, “I love you, too.”

Chapter 40

Beau

“Do you think I should wear the dress with the blue sparkles, or the black sparkles?” Claire calls out from her bedroom.

I groan, taking a final swig of my beer. People are supposed to show up in thirty minutes for Parker and Cassidy’s engagement party, and she’s still not dressed, which is ridiculous because we’ve barely done anything all day. I warned her about our timeline ten times, and yet here I am, gently reminding her again.

Fortunately, everything is already set up on the expansive balcony, so even if she isn’t dressed yet, we’re essentially ready for guests.

As I reach the door, my eyes widen. “It looks like a bomb went off in here, Claire. What were you doing when you said you were cleaning up?”

We got back from visiting my family in Houston last night, and while it was a great trip, I’m now regretting leaving her without supervision this afternoon. Clothes and suitcases are strewn haphazardly across the floor and bed, making it impossible to see anything other than complete chaos. At this point, we’re going to have to lock the door, and hope nobody needs to use the spare bathroom.

“I was cleaning myself up,” she yells from the closet, her tone laced with mischief. “You didn’t specify what needed to be clean.”

I run my fingers through my short beard—this woman is going to be the death of me.

“Don’t I look good?” she asks, exiting the closet in nothing but white lace panties and stiletto heels as she holds up each potential dress. Her chocolate curls are halfway pinned back, allowing the rest of her hair to fall over her shoulders. A rich red lipstick outlines her mouth, making my cock swell with desire.

It’s going to be a long night.

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