Page 93 of Beau and the Beast

Exhausted and defeated, Wolfram retired to his bedroom where he stripped and fell into a restless, troubled sleep.

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When Beau wokefrom his accidental nap, a piece of charcoal still lightly clutched in his fist, he had no idea what time it was. Had he missed dinner? Had no one come for him?

He padded out of the room and the penthouse was quiet and dark. The kitchen clock showed that it was past midnight. Beau chided himself for sleeping so long. He hated naps like that, where he woke up disoriented and time felt all wrong.

There was a note on the counter for him.

"We thought we should give our chef the night off. We ordered out and didn't want to wake you. There's leftovers in the fridge for you... —Vi"

Beau smiled. It was exactly the type of thing he'd do for Noah back home, but he couldn't remember the last time someone else had made sure thatheate.

He pulled out the container with his name on it from the fridge and sat down to his meal of cold noodles, not bothering to heat it up. He wasn't terrifically hungry—just didn't want to sit in the dim kitchen alone. He'd gotten so used to dinners with everyone else that it was strange to have that normalcy interrupted. Beau felt unmoored, like he was still inside of a dream.

He was stuck between worlds—cut off from his past life with Noah, with his workdays spent at The Ledger and his weekends spent with Lincoln. But the events of the morning had cut him off from this new schedule, too.

Time for a paradigm shift, he thought to himself, smiling.

Because, he realized, his life wouldn't be the same when he returned to the apartment with Noah, either.

Fiftymilliondollars. It was unknowable wealth. They could get a better apartment, closer to Noah's doctors. A place on the second or third floor, maybe, with tons of light and an elevator that never got screwed up and closed down. It would have a big kitchen where he could cook—maybe even entertain.

You might have to make friends in order to entertain,he thought to himself wryly.Putting the horse before the buggy there, Beau.

It was funny to think that he felt like he did have friends there in the penthouse. There was a spectrum in terms of how friendly everyone was with Violet on one end and Alfie on the other—but even cautious and suspicious Alfie had warmed to him.

Would they come to a dinner party if Beau invited them? Would they like to meet his brother?

Surely Wolfram would come if invited.

But that was dependent on Beau's book breaking the curse. And Beau was tired of thinking about that, of feeling the weight of it across his shoulders.

He couldn't even have a proper fantasy about having Wolfram as a friend, about seeing him out in public, without getting in his own way, he realized.

When he was done picking at his dinner, Beau put it back into the fridge.

He was struck by a whim.

He would make himself a cup of tea.

He'd gotten used to drinking Wolfram's different teas. Maybe that would be something that could offer him some small comfort.

He found some packages of tea, though they were nowhere near as interesting as the loose-leaf teas the Wolfram served him, packing different arrays of leaves into the tea pot every day.

The cup he was left with was weak and the color of straw. But it was a small comfort to hold it in his hands, to sip from it as he'd grown accustomed to doing.

Finally, with nothing else left to entertain him in the kitchen, he cleaned the dishes he'd used and headed back to his room. Maybe he could keep sketching and sleep would come to him. Maybe he could read one of the books that he'd borrowed from Wolfram in the days before.

It would be better, though, to read something fresh.

Maybe Wolfram was still up. He could ask for a book recommendation.

He would like to see Wolfram, he realized. Even if he was an unwelcome guest, he was willing to go just to put his own mind at ease.

When he arrived in Wolfram's study, though, the lights were on and there was no one there.

Beau crossed to the bedroom where the door stood open. Wolfram had carefully put the room back into order, but he wasn't inside. It looked like the bed had been slept in, but the room was dark when he entered with no sign of Wolfram leaving in any sort of hurry.

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