Page 12 of Beau Pair
“It’s not even seven yet. And Elsie doesn’t have to eat with us. Not everyone goes to bed at sunset, mama,” I remind her, and I can imagine her eyeroll.
Mama Hadlee is good but set in her ways. A lot like Gordon. But despite her age, she couldn’t be more accepting of me.
How could she not, considering how late she had me after she lost all hope of ever being a mom? I never had any fear of coming out to her. Not that I had to come out per se. I’m pretty sure anyone who browses my childhood albums will find the dress-ups and the little Beau in mama’s church shoes quite the clue.
The doorbell rings and the tingles return.
“Okay, Mama. I think she’s here, so I’m gonna go.”
“Okay, sweetpie. We’ll talk tomorrow. Message me if you have any questions. Love you,” she says, and hangs up, not waiting to hear my I love you too.
She knows I do, anyway.
I decide to leave my phone in the room before joining them downstairs for dinner. I want to, need to even, make the best impression, and I don’t want any distractions.
When I get downstairs, there’s a beautiful woman in the hallway in her late thirties with silky, long, brunette hair dressed in mom jeans and a white blouse over a pink tank top. She also has matching pink converse.
We are gonna get along just fine.
“You must be Dolly,” I say, and stretch my hand to shake hers.
Her gaze lifts, and she smiles when she sees me. She can probably recognize a fellow fashionable human. I’m dressed for the occasion, of course, which means I’ve put on my nicest clothes, the ones I only put on when I go out partying or to hook up.
This means I’m wearing my black T-shirt that crops right at the waist with the rainbow on the front and my high-waisted faded blue jeans. My hair doesn’t need any looking after for at least another couple weeks, since I had a buzz-cut earlier this month, but I’d be lying if I say I’m not wearing some pink lip gloss and lots of perfume. I want Dolly to feel super safe with me, and by extension, Elsie too.
“And you must be Beau,” she says with a warm smile and a non-judgmental once over.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she approves, but then she casts a sneaky glance at Gordon and I’m not so sure.
Well, the night’s still young, and I’ve got all the time in the world to win her over. And if that doesn’t work, then I’ll make sure to win Elsie over, and surely if her daughter likes me, she’ll like me too, right?
I look down at the stroller and I’m disappointed. Elsie is asleep with a stuffed toy in her arms. She’s just adorable. And now that I’ve seen Dolly, I can tell where she gets her smile from.
Except for the eyes.
The eyes are her daddy’s.
“She’s wiped. She’s been at the park all day. Sorry. I tried to keep her awake, but she was starting to get cranky,” Dolly says when she notices me looking at Elsie, but I give her my best smile and a wave.
“Oh, that’s fine. I know what they’re like. They can have bounds of energy all day but come bedtime they turn into sleeping beauties. She certainly has.” I look at the toddler and laugh, and so does Dolly.
“Dinner is ready,” Gordon informs both of us, and Dolly takes Elsie out carefully and carries her upstairs.
Once everything is set up—I help, of course—we all sit down and enjoy Gordon’s steak dinner with blue cheese sauce and salad. It’s cooked to perfection, and the blue cheese sauce? Let’s just say I’m glad neither of them knows my orgasm face or I’d be in trouble.
“So, Beau, Gordon tells me you’re a fashion designer,” Dolly says, and takes a bite of her steak.
“Well, I wouldn’t call myself a designer yet, but I’m studying it,” I reply.
Dolly huffs. “Oh, come on. Don’t be modest. Besides, a college degree does not a professional make. If you’re studying to be a designer, you already are,” she says.
“Because that’s what every college professor wants to hear,” Gordon intercepts, and I chuckle.
Dolly rolls her eyes at him as she reaches for her glass of wine.
“You know very well my opinion about academia, darling,” she tells him, and he stuffs his mouth with a bite.
His lids get heavier and his lips turn pouty. He’s cute when he’s annoyed.
