Page 103 of Best Kept Secret

"That was…well…are you okay with that?" Mira asked.

"Okaywith that? Yeah, Mira, I'm okay withourdaughter callingyouMama."

She smiled at me. "You really think of Pari asours."

"Always have," I confessed.

She flushed. "You think I might have one more pancake?"

"Why the hell not." I served her another fluffy pancake and poured maple syrup on it. I sat next to her, reading the paper, while we finished breakfast, feeling like one lucky motherfucker.

Chapter 40

Mira

The house was filled with the sound of laughter, clinking glasses, and the warmth of people I had slowly come to think of as family.

It was our first dinner party together—mine and Beau's. It had taken a few more weeks after the day Pari started calling me Mama for me to move back in with Beau and, this time, into his bedroom.

The kitchen had been a whirlwind all day, pots bubbling on the stove and the oven working overtime. Beau had offered to help, but I'd waved him off, insisting he stay thehellout of my kitchen and not distract me with hisalwayserect cock.

Cooking had always been my way of making sense of things, of grounding myself, and tonight felt…well, important because it was a first for Beau and me. Not because of the food but because I was finally standing here in this life that, for so long, felt like it wasn't mine to claim.

Once the guests arrived, my tension eased. These were our friends. They knew us. They knew me. They accepted me just the way I was, despite knowing my past.

The smell of roasted lamb and garlic butter filled the air as I wiped my hands on a dish towel, listening to the familiar hum of voices coming from the dining room.

Nova was in conversation with Katya and Trevor. Stella and Noah were deep in conversation with Gabe and Aurora, who had just arrived, their baby in tow. Anson was showing Pari a magic trick, her eyes wide with wonder. Zahra was out in the garden with Nina, discussing something work-related. Donna was traveling, visiting a friend in California, and had told me that she expected a do-over when she could attend.

For a long time, I worried I didn't belong in this world—Beau's world. He was surrounded by successful, driven, educated people—the kind of people who had fancy degrees and talked about things that sometimes went over my head. I was just a woman who barely finished high school, who had worked in diners, and who had spent most of her adult life scrimping and saving to get by.

There were still moments, dark and quiet ones when I wondered if Beau was ashamed of me. If he saw me as someone he had to hide because I didn't fit in with his friends or his life. Those thoughts had been hard to shake, the insecurities that ran deep from years of being told I wasn't enough.

I was plating the last of the appetizers—goat cheese crostinis with fig jam—when I heard Beau's voice from the dining room. Iwasn't eavesdropping, not exactly, but his voice carried through the open space.

"She's incredible, isn't she?" Beau was saying, his voice full of pride. I could practically hear his smile. "I'm telling you, she makes everything look effortless. Chef Gervais is singing her praises, saying my Mira is one of the best chefs who've ever apprenticed for him."

There was a murmur of appreciation from the group, and Beau kept going like he couldn't help himself. "And she's got this way of making people feel at home. I mean, look at this spread." I heard a soft chuckle in his voice. "It's not just the food, though. It's everything. She's got this talent. She doesn't even see it, but I do."

"Christ, man, we got it; yourMira is the cat's ass," Gabe teased.

"She certainly is," Nova laughed.

My heart skipped, something warm and soft expanding inside me. My hands stilled over a plate as I listened. He wasn't ashamed of me. He wasn't hiding me. He was proud of me. He was showing me off, talking about me like I was the best thing in his life.

And at that moment, standing in our kitchen, the clatter of silverware and laughter surrounding me, I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be. The old wounds, the insecurities—they didn't vanish, but they softened. They weren't so sharp anymore. I belonged here, with him, with these people, in this life.

I finished plating the crostinis and carried them into the dining room.

Beau looked up as I entered, his eyes lighting up when they landed on me. He smiled, and for a moment, the room faded away, and it was just the two of us. The laughter, the noise, the clinking of glasses—it all became background noise to the feeling that settled deep in my bones.

He loved me. And I loved him.

"Get a room, guys," Noah groaned.

"We're hungry, can we get food before you guys disappear in the bedroom for hours on end?" Katya remarked.

"That happened one time at Mama's place, and it was for just a half hour, not hours on end…though wecan gohours on end." Beau winked at me as my cheeks heated.

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