And I was proud of Beau for doing nothing but toeing off his boots and heeding my orders without so much as a scowl or muttered curse.
Things must’ve been really bad if he was letting me take control. I didn’t let my worry for Calliope creep in as I made the tea and toast, setting them on the coffee table. I had an order of operations: get Beau warm, dry, fed. Take care of him. That’s what I needed to focus on.
Beau emerged from the hallway, hair damp but no longer dripping. He was wearing sweats and a white tee. I’d never seen him in sweats. Living with the man all this time, yet I hadn’t seen him in anything beyond jeans or the slacks he wore in the kitchen. I’d never seen him … at ease. Comfortable. Unless he was with Clara, of course. Then he was relaxed. But even then, there was a tenseness to his shoulders, a sharpness in his jaw that showed he was waiting. Expecting something bad to happen. Walking on eggshells. As if tragedy was always just a heartbeat away.
I guessed that’s what happened after spending so long waiting for worse and worse news.
Not for the first time, I felt a pang of sympathy for him.
“Come.” I gestured at the sofa, pointing to the steaming cup and the toast.
Strangely, Beau obeyed me. His eyes were clearer, seeming to be less in shock than he had been when he first walked in the door.
I was standing awkwardly by the coffee table where I’d placed the items. I hadn’t thought ahead about what I was going to do once he obeyed my command. I hadn’t really thought he would obey my command. I shifted uncomfortably, steeling myself.
Steeling myself for him to snap back like an elastic band, stinging my skin.
But he didn’t. Snap back. Hurt me.
“No,” he barked. He walked across the living room to sit on the sofa. Out of instinct, I moved too. In the dance we’d choreographed for so long. As if we were opposing magnets that couldn’t be close to each other because of physics.
But we’d been close. Around fifteen minutes ago, I’d been cupping his cheek, and he had been holding on to my wrist for dear life. It was still throbbing faintly.
“Stay with me.” His raspy request made him sound wild. Rough. Then he peered up at me, and he looked nothing but soft and vulnerable. “Please.”
How could I say no to that? Technically,I couldsay no to him. That was the prime moment for me to get him back for all the pain he’d caused me. Show him the consequences of his actions. If you were a complete asshole to someone, you couldn’t expect them to be there for you in your time of need.
Leave him out in the cold, the cruel voice in the back of my mind told me.
But I looked into those icy eyes, recognizing how much it took for him to make that request, one I didn’t think he made even in the midst of Clara’s illness. He never asked anyone for anything.
He was too busy giving everything to his daughter.
Which resulted in a husk of a man unable to muster basic human kindness for his nanny. Yet able to exude sex appeal to her at the same time.
My butt found the soft cushion of the sofa before I consciously made a decision.
My thigh brushed up against Beau’s. It was warm, strong, solid. Too close for employer and employee to sit. Too close for even platonic friends to sit.
I should’ve moved. But I didn’t.
Beau was staring at my profile, I knew he was. I could feel the weight of his gaze, my skin tingling with every passing second, my breath heavy.
I stared at the coffee table. “Tea. Toast.” The words were solid, strong, and I willed myself to be those things too.
Beau didn’t respond, but I did see his large form move forward and heard the clatter of porcelain signifying he was doing as I told him.
We didn’t make conversation as he drank and chewed, though I was desperate to know what happened. It must’ve been bad to get him in this state.
My mind skated over every interaction I’d had with Calliope. Her sharp wit, her confidence, her kindness.
More importantly, my mind catalogued every interaction she’d had with Clara. The way she spoke to her, saw her. She made Clara feel smart, strong, and intelligent. She didn’t treat her like she was sick or weak. I knew how much that meant to Clara, I’d seen her entire being light up in Calliope’s presence.
I wanted to vomit at the thought of anything happening to Calliope, of the pain it would cause Elliot, Beau, and Clara.
Beau leaned back on the sofa, letting out a ragged sigh that tore through the air like a serrated blade.
“She wasn’t breathing,” he murmured.
