“Good to know,” I say. “I brought her dinner the other night and I had to pretend that I let her pay me back.”
This makes Beau laugh. “What'd you do with the money?”
“Slipped it back in the register. I'm sure at some point she noticed that she was twenty bucks over. But she at least didn’t say anything.”
Beau softens at my gesture. And for the first time since he came barreling in, I feel like he's not three seconds away from punching me.
This is the most I've ever talked to Beau in the years that I've casually known him. If we do ever talk, it's chit chat about our respective sports, mutual business acquaintances, that kind of thing. But even though I don't know the man well, I know for adamn fact that both of us care for Gabi, and right now that's all that matters.
“I’m gonna ask you a question, and I'm gonna really need you to be honest with me,” Beau says.
“Shoot.” Even though I have a feeling what’s coming.
He clasps his hands together and leans his elbows on the table. “I know she said you're friends. I know you agreed. But I saw the Vegas videos. I also have eyes. I hate to put it in these terms, but I have to know… what are your intentions with my sister?”
If he had asked me this question when he first walked in, I would’ve probably lied, fumbled, and said anything to make sure that he wasn't going to murder me. And while I don't know if I can tell him the whole truth right now, I know I don't have to lie.
“I care about her,” I begin. “I care about her a whole hell of a lot. But on that same note, I know she's not ready for anything.”
“She told you about the divorce?”
I nod. “Enough for me to know that if he walked in here right now he’d be a bloody mess on the ground.”
“Another thing we can agree on,” he says with a smile. “So, you’re really willing just to be her friend?
“I want her to be happy,” I say. “I want her to smile every day, and if I can be a reason she does that, then that's good enough.”
Beau gives me a knowing smile. “Can I give you a piece of advice?”
“Absolutely.”
“Don’t push her,” he says. “Gabi was always so independent but lost that part of herself during her marriage. She’s getting it back. She wants it back. If anything between you two ever happens, it’s going to be because she says so. On her terms.”
I smile, because for the first time in weeks, I strangely feel good about things. Because Beau isn’t telling me to back off. Or to get the hell away from her. He might not have come out andgiven us his blessing, but he’s not scaring me away either. “That I can do.”
He laughs. “You’re really willing to wait for her?”
All I can do is smile. “I’ll wait forever.”
CHAPTER 15
GABI
If there’s one thing for certain when you’re a resident of Nashville, it’s that traffic is never going to cooperate with you. Need to be somewhere quickly? Don’t worry: route 40 is going to make sure you’re twenty minutes late.
Ugh! Just once I needed traffic to be smooth. I’m already a half hour late delivering cookies and cupcakes to Maddox’s foundation. Then again, me running behind has been the story of my life for the past week.
Ever since Maddox’s Instagram post last week, the bakery has been nonstop. Not as bad as it was that first day, but it’s consistently steady, which has meant I needed to make changes, and fast. Jada and Lexi have gone from working a few days in the week, but just in the mornings, to splitting each morning and afternoon. I’ve even hired a few of their friends for some random hours here and there. I’m putting off hiring a second baker, but that’s probably going to have to happen soon. Sure that means I’m barely sleeping, but it’s fine. I enjoy the work. This is my dream. I refuse to complain about success, because who knows how long it’s going to last.
What I will complain about is how fucking tired I am. Like so tired. Today was the worst, which is why I’m running late. Icouldn’t make myself get out of bed. I got to the bakery an hour late and an IV drip of Coke Zero wasn’t going to help me today.
I inch the car forward, welcoming any movement in traffic, when my bluetooth signals a phone call from Shelby.
“Perfect timing,” I say. “I’m sitting in traffic.”
“Sounds like fun,” she says in her deadpan way. “Wait. Why are you driving in the middle of the day? Shouldn’t you still be at the bakery?”
“Yes I should be. But I need to make a delivery.”
