I hold up my hand to knock, but before I can, the door swings open. Beau stands there looking at me. I try to read the expression on his face, but I'm not able to until he starts smiling.
Okay, what's his game?
"Oh, uh, hi,” I stammer.
"Hey, I was just coming to find you.”
"Really?"
"Yeah, I was going to come sooner, but I figured I should shower first. I was pretty gross from work.”
He steps out of the way, so l can walk inside.
"I just came over to get some stuff that I left here," I say while nervously rocking back and forth on my heels "I'm sure you don't want it hanging around."
"Why would I not want your stuff here?" He looks genuinely confused.
"Well, l assume you don't want all my stuff taking up your space. Usually, when two people break up, everyone takes their stuff back."
"Who said anything about us breaking up?"
Now, it's my turn to be confused. "I mean, this whole thing is over, right?"
"What? Why would this be over? Do you want it to be over?”
"No, but we had a fight, and-"
He stops me while sitting on the couch and gesturing for me to join him. "Yes, Jo. We had a fight. And guess what? We are probably going to have a lot more. It's part of being in a real relationship. Knowing the two of us, we will probably have some crazy ones. That’s okay. As long as we talk through it and try to work through it in a healthy way, we will be fine.”
“Really?”
“Really. Anyone who says they don’t fight with their significant other is probably lying—or they don’t have a real relationship.”
What he is saying makes sense in theory, but of course, my messed up brain is having a hard time understanding. “But last night, you were mad and didn’t want to have sex.”
He interrupts me again. “Sweetheart, I’m a guy. I always want to have sex, but I thought you and I were having an important conversation that we needed to finish before either one of us got naked.”
“So, you don’t want to break up?” I question.
“Not even a little bit. And I want to say I’m sorry for how I acted last night. I know you didn’t do anything to intentionally make me upset.”
“I didn’t,” I say. “I just acted. That’s what I’ve always done.”
“I know, and I love that about you. It’s not like a tiger can change its stripes, but I need you to also understand that I’m not going to stop worrying about you. Those are my stripes I can’t change.”
“I guess I get that,” I say in a low voice.
“Maybe I seem overly cautious, but I have my reasons.”
I think maybe he’s not going to elaborate because of how long he stays quiet. Finally, he speaks again. “My brother, Brian, died because he was out joyriding with some friends. It was a one in a million type of situation, but if they had been going even ten miles slower, it may have been a different outcome.”
Tears prick my eyes as his worrying makes far more sense. “I didn’t know.”
“I know. I probably should have told you sooner, but it isn’t something that I like talking about. Brian was always the life of the party, but it eventually caught up with him. I don’t want that to ever happen to you.”
His voice gets caught in his throat as he utters the last words. I scoot a little closer to him and set my hand on his knee, silently letting him know I’m here for him.
“Beau, I understand why you worry, and I’m so sorry that happened to Brian, but you can’t make me live in a bubble. I would suffocate and die. Literally.”
