Page 59 of Begin Again
“But did you put ’matoes in it?” Elena scrunches her nose in disgust.
“No, I put thetomatoeson the side,” Elizabeth says, shaking her head as she turns off the burner. “Lena, go tell the Bs dinner is done.”
My daughter squirms from my arms and runs in the direction she had come from to gather everyone for dinner.
“So, I have to ask.” Elizabeth leans back against the counter, resting her hands on her swollen belly. Seven months pregnant. She and Michaela are both due in December, meaning this is their last trip away from home for a while, another reason I couldn’t say no to their impromptu trip out west. “What’s going on with you and Beau?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, they closed the case, didn’t they?”
“In a manner of speaking.” The case waspresumed closed. It wasn’tofficiallyclosed, they hadn’t found a body, but it wasn’t being actively worked on, either.
“So, why are you still running by the station to talk to Beau?” There’s a slight twinkle in her brown eyes when Elizabeth asks the question.
“Am I not allowed to go talk to the sheriff?”
“I didn’t say that,” she says, a slight tug in the corner of her mouth. “You can talk to thesheriff, but you didn’t call him the sheriff. You called him Beau. Not to mention, Elena seems quite fond of him.”
“Elizabeth.” I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose.
“Look, I don’t care what you do. I’m just saying you might want to consider how it will look to other people.”
“We’re notdoinganything,” I snap, and Elizabeth reels back slightly at the bite in my tone. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and brace myself against the counter. “Beau has continued looking for Nick when everyone else gave up. I’m alone out here, Elizabeth, and he has been there whenever I need something.”
“You have people out here who would help you.”
“Not anyone who wants to help.” Sympathy seeps from her eyes when I meet her gaze again. “It’s been six months, Elizabeth. Six. Half a year since the last time I saw my husband or heard his voice and it’s fucking killing me. The worst part? I may never know…I may never get the answers about what happened to him. And the only person who hasn’t given up helping metryand figure it out is Beau. Please, do not sit there and tell me to consider how it looks to other people when I honestly don’t give a fuck.”
My sister doesn’t get the chance to respond before my daughter gallops back in with Michaela, Brie, and Blake hot on her trail, all eager to stuff their faces.
I have read his text about thirty times throughout the day. I don’t know why, either. It isn’t anything special—a simple message with no hidden meaning—but it keeps coming to mind. It’s the only one I opened all day, but I haven’t responded. I have left it sitting there until I can decide if I’m going to respond or not. The conversation with Elizabeth last night has been running through my mind nonstop, making my mind spiral. Am I doing something wrong letting Beau help me? Am I supposed to accept that the other officials have given up, and we may never know what happened to Nick? Am I supposed to care what it looks like that Beau and I are still in contact? Or that I called himBeauinstead of Sheriff Turner?
After breakfast in bed—a bowl of Lucky Charms, Elena and Nick’s favorite cereal, with a steaming cup of coffee, courtesy of my daughter—I spent the early part of my day in my office, putting out a fire Kai couldn’t seem to control. I offered to help Elena bake a cake before her nap, but she shooed me away because it was supposed to be a surprise. Instead, I went for a hike before coming home to get ready for dinner at my favorite restaurant: Little Bird, located inside the Grand Oak Resort in downtown Haven.
Elena’s cake was my favorite part of the day by far. The cake was vanilla and coated in a heavy amount of pink frosting and a mountain of rainbow sprinkles.Happy Birthday, Mommawas written across the top, almost unreadable in her messyhandwriting (the use of frosting hadn’t helped her cause). It was a beautiful disaster, and I loved every bit of it. After cake and ice cream, we cuddled in her bed, watching a movie before she passed out.
And now, after slipping out of her room, I plan to hide and try to relax for the remaining three hours of my birthday, joined only by a glass of red wine and a hot bubble bath.
“There’s someone here to see you,” Elizabeth says, opening my bedroom door without knocking.
“Who is it?” I ask, pulling my sweater back over my head.
“Come and find out.” The corner of her mouth ticks upward, and it makes me suspicious. Who in the hell would be showing up at nine o’clock at night? Elizabeth motions for me to follow and starts the trek down the hallway. I roll my eyes but follow her retreating figure to the foyer.
When I turn the corner, my steps falter. “What are you doing here?”
“I meant to stop by earlier, but I got a little tied up at the station,” Beau says, standing inside the door. I glance at Elizabeth, who stands to the side with a knowing smirk. “When Shortie told meshewas baking your cake, I figured you might want something with a little less…everything.”
I laugh, taking the personal-sized cake he holds out. “Is this…”
“Red velvet.”
My smile drops, but I quickly replace it, hoping he doesn’t notice.
“You don’t like red velvet?” His warm voice is heavy with concern, worried he messed up, but that’s not it. “Elena said you and Nick—”
“It is…was Nick’s favorite,” I say, swallowing the boulder growing in my throat. When I look back to where Elizabethshould be standing, she’s gone. Of course, when I want her here, she’s gone.
