Page 17 of Teach Me to Laugh

“I guessed as much by the purple walls I helped you paint.”

“Raspberry Fuzz.” I corrected. I knew my walls were purple, but fighting about this one thing with Beckett was too fun to pass up. “They aren’t purple.”

“They’re purple, peanut.”

I huffed a sigh as I tugged on the door. Beckett caught it, opening it the rest of the way as I slipped inside the warm, deliciously scented restaurant. That was when I felt it, his hand on my back. The thrill ran down the length of my spine as I moved to the front desk.

“Pickup for Bloom.” Beckett said, giving the hostess my last name. She smiled big up at him and for the first time in my life, I truly resented another girl and her ability to smile so freely, or even at all, at a man.

“Right here,” she lifted the enormous bag with a dinner for six inside and placed it on the counter. When Beckett pulled out his wallet, I shook my head.

“I got it.”

“You’re not paying for my weekends worth of meals.” He handed his card to the girl and she giggled. I glared, but Beckett continued. “This one is on me.”

I had a feeling that Beckett was the kind of man who insisted every meal was a meal on him. I thought about arguing before I snapped my mouth shut.

When the transaction had been approved and Beckett lifted the bag of food, I wondered why I’d even gotten out of the truck. I’d been useful for absolutely nothing. Hell, I wasn’t even arm candy. Women like the hostess with their long blonde hair and bubble gum smiles were arm candy material. Not me.

Beckett seemed to sense my mood as he opened my door. “Something wrong?”

“Nope.”

“Right.” He handed me the food and I placed it on my lap. “You’ve got thirty seconds to figure out what you’re going to tell me. I’m going to close the door, walk around to my side and I want you to be ready. A deal’s a deal.”

“I didn’t agree to any deal.”

“It’s the principle of it, beautiful.” He said, and then he closed the door.

I wasn’t thinking when he opened the door to sit beside me again. I wasn’t thinking at all, because if I were thinking I never would have said what I said.

“You call me beautiful, but I was never adopted. Nobody ever thought I was beautiful enough to make me a part of their family. Not really.” I’d started and now I couldn’t stop. “Sure, people wanted me. Men wanted to screw me and girls wanted to be my friend, because I was beautiful enough for that. But nobody ever wanted to love me. I wasn’t beautiful enough for that. I wasn’t funny enough. Smart enough. Lovable enough.” I didn’t cry even though I wanted to. I kept my tone hard andunaffected. “I was four when I lost my parents and it wasn’t until I was eleven that I felt even a little loved again, but I lost them too. After that, it wasn’t until I met Joss, my boss at the Library, and then Raina and Maddy, that I actually felt someone cared for me. For the me beneath the beauty of my skin.”

“Amara,”

“Is that enough, Beckett?” I asked coldly. “Is that what you wanted to know? Have I completed my end of the deal?”

Tragic. She was so tragically wounded. So tragically guarded.

So tragically fragile . . .

So tragically beautiful.

“No.” I finally said as we walked through the front door and into the warmth of the condo I shared with this tragic woman.

“What?”

“No.” I repeated. “That wasn’t enough, Amara.”

“Tough shit, Beckett,” she kicked off her boots. “You’re not getting anything more from me.”

I caught her arm already knowing that I was most likely crossing some unseen line she’d drawn, and tugged. When she turned to face me, her face was a mask of fear beneath an armor of ice.

I wanted to release her, but I didn’t. I forced my hand to remain where it was locked gently around her arm, and released the words I needed to say. “I won’t hurt you, Amara. I would never hurt you. And you might think that you’re unwanted, butIwant you. Even if all you ever give me is friendship, I want it. You might think you’re not funny because you don’t laugh or smile even though I fucking wish, more than anything in this world, you would, but you are. You make me laugh more often and harder than anyone else I’ve ever met. You’ve got a sourpuss scowl that cracks me up every time, like it or not.”

She’s not even breathing. And her eyes, so beautifully blue, are wide and round.

“You might think that you’re not smart enough, but I don’t know another woman who is smart enough to keep up with me. You reply to my every quip with a quick lash of your lovely tongue.” I think that in any moment, she might crumble. “You might think you’re not beautiful enough, but there is no other woman I’ve ever looked at that is as beautiful as you. Your eyes, they are so big and blue I could get lost in them. Your lips are the perfect shade of pink and your hair,” I shook my head, nearly at a loss for words. “You’re beautiful, Amara. Outside and in. And you might think you’re not loveable, but you are.” My voice isdeep and low when I repeat, “You have no idea how loveable you are.”

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