Page 91 of For You & No One Else (Say Everything 3)

Twenty-Four

Beckham awoke with a start, coming out of a dream where he’d been falling. He grabbed a fistful of sheets to ground himself, his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

He blinked in the darkness, trying to clear his head and make sense of his surroundings. Something warm shifted against his head. That part was familiar. Trent had a bad habit of sleeping on Beckham’s pillow with him. But everything else felt off. The scent was different, the sounds. His eyesight adjusted slowly, the dark breaking just a little, and then awareness dawned.Eli.He was at Eliza’s place. In her bed.

Shit.

He’d fallen asleep. He turned his head. Eliza was facing him, lying on her side, her hand tucked under her cheek, her breathing slow and steady. The sight stalled him for a second. Goddamn, she was beautiful. She looked so peaceful and tousled in the best way. He had the urge to reach out and touch her, to trace the curves of her face with his fingertip, to kiss her eyelids, but he didn’t want to wake her. He lifted his head gingerly, working hard not to jostle her, and peered at the clock on her side of the bed.

6:17 a.m.

It was morning.Morning.He’d slept over.

He hadn’t done that with anyone since he’d been married to Jess. He had a rule. No overnights—hard stop. Sleepovers made things too blurry. They crossed the just-friends line in a big way. There was nothing more intimate than sharing morning breath. He let his head fall back to the pillow, his thoughts whirling.Okay, it’s fine. Breathe. Not something to freak out about.

He was in new but not necessarily dangerous territory. He and Eliza had been clear and honest with each other. Last night, she’d come over to his side of seeing things. They were going to keep this going without pressure or labels. They were both happy being with each other right now and that was what mattered.Sleeping over didn’t change anything. In fact, maybe it was a rule he could break with her. He could trust Eliza. And fuck, he’d missed her while he was in Baton Rouge. He was glad to be next to her now instead of alone in his own bed or that hotel. But it still felt…foreign.

Trent stretched and hopped off the bed, apparently sensing that Beckham was awake. Beckham rubbed a hand over his face and tried to settle back down. But his brain started going and he realized it was a lost cause. Plus, Trent would probably be angling for breakfast and would get noisy if denied.

After one more glance at Eliza to make sure she was sleeping soundly, he eased the covers off himself and quietly climbed out of the bed, careful not to bounce the mattress. Eliza murmured in her sleep but otherwise didn’t move.

He let out a breath and found his clothes in the dark, tugging them on, then quietly headed out of the room. He wasn’t going to bail—that would be a dick move—but he couldn’t lie there for hours with his thoughts circling like a buzzard. No thanks.

He closed her door, made a pit stop in her guest bathroom, blessedly finding some mouthwash, and then headed into the kitchen. He found her coffee supplies and got a pot going, and then he headed out to his car to get a can of cat food from the pet-store bag. He set out food and water for Trent and then poked around in Eliza’s fridge and pantry. Making breakfast would give him something to concentrate on.

When he’d left home, he hadn’t known how to cook much of anything. In his family, the women were taught the domestic stuff, not the boys. And when he’d gotten married, Jess had shared that belief, that she should cook for him. The thought made his stomach turn now because at the time, he’d thought, well, obviously the wife should be the one who cooks.

He’d worked hard to deprogram himself from his upbringing, but sometimes he still worried that there were misguided beliefs buried in his subconscious somewhere. He was constantly on guard for that. One way he’d tackled the domestic one was to make sure he knew how to cook some simple things for himself. Bingeing episodes ofAmerica’s Test Kitchenhad helped him in that quest, and then Khuyen had given him a few lessons once Beckham had the basics down.

Eliza had a bag of frozen hash browns and the rest of the ingredients he needed to make a hash-brown casserole. He put the hash browns out to thaw, set the oven to preheat, and started gathering what he needed. He had a little trouble finding her baking dish, but soon he had everything ready to go. He mixed everything up and popped it into the oven.

Trent hopped up on a little desk Eliza had in the corner of the room and gave Beckham a questioning look. He walked over and scratched the top of Trent’s head. “I know, buddy. I didn’t mean for us to stay the night.”

Trent ducked his head into the rub, seemingly willing to forgive the transgression as long as the petting continued.

“And you really shouldn’t be up here on Eli’s stuff.” He gave Trent one last scratch behind the ear and then patted his side. “Come on, dude. Get down.”

Trent went reluctantly, and when he jumped, he sent a file folder sliding off the desk and papers skidding across the floor.

“You see,” Beckham said with a sigh. “Look what you’ve done now.”

Trent sauntered off, tail in the air, as if to say,That mess is your problem. Clean it up, peasant.

Beckham crouched down to gather the papers, doing his best to keep them unwrinkled. He’d tucked most back into the folder, but one page had escaped under her desk. He reached for it and shook off a dust bunny. He wasn’t trying to look at what was on the page but a line caught his eye:TheWhen Harry Met SallyDilemma.

He frowned, his conversation from the diner with Eliza coming into his head, and scanned the top of the page.

Untitled Book Because Titles Are Hard

By Eliza Catalano

Chapter 4

TheWhen Harry Met SallyDilemma

“What the hell?” he said under his breath. He stood up and begin reading. At first, he was confused, and then awareness begin to dawn, a sinking feeling filling him.

Recently, however, as I dropped the online dating and instituted the three-dates-before-intimacy rule that I mentioned in the previous chapter, this friends-with-benefits option has taken on a different light. A friend of mine, one who’s helping me with this project, mentioned the possibility early on—that we could hook up as friends if we ever wanted to. At first, it seemed like a ludicrous idea. Why would I sleep with someone who wasn’t a possible long-term partner when my very project is about finding a real relationship?

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