Page 39 of Somebody to Save
Thanksgiving was a disaster,which wasn’t a surprise since life had been relatively calm since Beckett left my apartment Sunday night. Something eventually had to give.
Our chef called out sick, and I had to rush to find a restaurant that was open and willing to cater Thanksgiving dinner for fifty people.
Thankfully—which would be funny if it weren’t a disastrous start to the holiday—Ray’s, the best barbecue in the city, was more than happy to help us out.
I hung up the phone with them with a promise they’d be at Lake Hills within the hour as I hustled out of the front doors. And straight into a rock-hard chest.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so—”Sorrywas supposed to be the rest of that sentence, but words failed me when I looked up into smiling hazel eyes.
“Damn, Bubbles. Where are you off to in such a hurry?”
“I-uhh—” I stuttered, apparently forgetting every word in the English language.
Beckett had to make a last-minute trip up to Chicago to seehis brother and their new office, so I hadn’t seen him since our date several days before. He’d called me, though. And texted a lot.
But still, seeing him in person for the first time since then did funny things to my brain.
“I have to pick up my grandmothers,” I said quickly. “What—what are you doing here?”
Tucking my much too light jacket tighter around me, I tried to hide from the chilly breeze that whipped around us. Beckett was wearing a sleek black coat, which looked much warmer than mine.
“I’m spending Thanksgiving with my aunt.”
“Oh, that makes sense. I guess I just assumed you’d stay in Chicago with your brother.”
Beckett shrugged. “I didn’t want my aunt to be alone, and my brother is spending the day with his new girlfriend. I didn’t really want to tag along when he met her parents for the first time.”
I cringed and glanced down at my phone. Minutes were ticking by, and I had to be back in time to make sure the restaurant was set up properly.
“I’m happy to see you, and I’m so glad you’re back, but I have to go,” I explained. “My grandmothers are waiting, and I have to make sure the restaurant sets up correctly. So?—”
“I’ll go with you,” Beckett said like it was a foregone conclusion and the obvious answer. “I’ll even drive.”
Peering around him, I eyed his sleek, low sports car before I glanced back up at him.
“As much as I appreciate that, neither of my grandmothers will be able to get in, let alone getoutof your car. I’ll just see you when I get back.”
I took a step toward my car, but Beckett stopped me with a hand around my forearm.
“I’d still like to go with you. I’ve missed you, baby girl.”
And how,howwas a girl ever supposed to say no to that?
“Okay,” I agreed. “But no funny business on the ride over. And I can’t promise you how they’ll react to your surprise presence.”
“No funny business,” he said with a nod. “But they at least know about me, right? It won’t be a total surprise that I exist?”
He linked our hands together, and I reveled in the warmth of his larger palm. It was a short walk to my car, and he opened my door before he rounded the car and slipped into the passenger side.
It was almost comical how out of place he looked in my beat-up little car. In his sleek black coat and expensive jeans, he was a stark contradiction to the worn, tan leather seats and peeling vinyl.
But my car had seen me through high school and college and was still running. I was going to keep her until she couldn’t run anymore. Which would hopefully be averylong time in theverydistant future. I didn’t have the funds to buy anything new or used anytime soon.
“Yes, they know you exist and that we’ve been on one date. They also know we met at a party.” He whipped his head in my direction and eyed me with raised brows. “But they do not knowanyof the details,” I added.
“Okay, got it. What else do I need to know before walking in there?”
So much,I thought to myself. I hadn’t forgotten to tell Beckett about my unconventional family situation, and I wasn’t keeping it from him because I didn’t trust him. I just didn’t find it necessary to tell everyone I met that my parents weren’t around anymore and my grandmothers raised me. It wasn’t fun to relive every time I spoke it aloud. So, I usually didn’t share that information until I knew a person was going to stick around long enough that it would matter.
