Page 92 of Best Kept Secret

"Why?" she asked, wide-eyed, her curiosity innocent and unfiltered.

He took a breath, holding her close. "Because I was very mean toMiramashi," he admitted, his voice breaking again.

Pari's eyes went wide as if she couldn't quite believe it. "That was not nice," she said matter-of-factly, her tiny brows furrowed.

"No," he agreed, managing a watery smile. "It wasn't nice at all. Can you help me make it better for Miramashi?"

Pari turned to look at me, her face lighting up with a big, toothy smile. She clapped her hands together like we'd just told her she was getting ice cream for breakfast. "Yes!" she squealed, then immediately looked back at Beau, tilting her head with all the seriousness of a toddler trying to solve a puzzle. "How?"

I felt a lump rising in my throat as I reached out and cupped Pari's cheek, brushing my thumb gently against her soft skin. "Help me clean out my closet," I said quietly, meeting Beau's eyes as I spoke. It wasn't just the closet I meant, and judging by the way his expression softened, he understood.

Pari, on the other hand, looked utterly confused. She wrinkled her nose and blinked up at me like I'd just suggested something completely absurd. "Huh?"

Beau let out a soft, broken laugh, one that didn't quite mask the relief in his eyes.

"Okay," Pari said finally, drawing the word out in the exaggerated tone I already knew I'd hear a lot more of when she was a teenager.

Beau's gaze flicked to me, a mixture of gratitude and something deeper—something raw. "Thank you," he mouthed silently.

We walk to my apartment with Pari, talking a mile a minute. Beau and I remained silent.

Pari watched a cartoon in the living room, and Beau took my hand, and we walked to my bedroom.

"You good?" he asked, his voice soft.

"Yeah," I said quickly, though my chest felt tight. "Let's just…finish this."

I opened my closet and froze. For a second, the sight of my trash can, clean and empty, made my throat tighten. "You made me feel like trash."

Beau hugged me from behind. "Please, please, please forgive me. You're the most amazing woman I know, the love of my life. I'm so sorry, Mira."

I turned in his arms. "I've been treated like trash my whole life."

"Never again," he promised. "I…," he was crying now, openly, letting me see him vulnerable. "I am ashamed of myself for doing that to you. I…."

"You wanted to make me feel like trash?"

He shook his head. "Part of your things were already in the trash bag, so I just stuffed the rest in. It wasn't until I saw how it affected you that I realized what I had done, and by then, I was too angry to have the decency and humanity to treat you with respect. If anyone wastrashthat day, Mira, it was me."

He let me go and picked up the crumpled bag. "We get rid of this now," he said firmly.

I nodded. Went to the kitchen and dropped the bag into the can. The sound of it crinkling against the bottom felt louder than it should've.

"How do you feel?" Beau asked.

I shrugged. "I don't know yet."

Beau nodded, his face tight, and because of how hurt he was, how what he'd done tore at him, it made me feel better—not because he was in pain, but that he validated mine.

"But I feel lighter."

"Good."

Pari's voice rang out from the living room. "Miramashi! Bodaddy! Come here!"

I laughed. "She's pretty demanding."

Beau grinned. "No shit." He cupped my cheek. "I want you to be as demanding as her with me. I want you to take what you need and ask for it. I'm going to fuck up again, Mira, but if you tell me what I did wrong, I promise I'll learn."

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