I thought I heard a light knock at the door, so I held my breath, hoping I was mistaken.
When I heard it again, I let out my breath and hiccoughed. “I’m sleeping. Do you need something?”
The door opened slowly. “You’re not sleeping.”
“I am,” I said from under the covers, not wanting Beau to see my face.
Two seconds later, the lamp went on and the comforter was pulled off my head. Beau sighed. Loudly. “Christ, woman. Move over.”
I shook my head and closed my eyes. “Nope, I’m sleeping.”
“Then I suppose I’ll just eat all these Coffee Crisps by myself.”
I opened one eye to make sure he wasn’t bluffing.
He wasn’t.
I moved over, making room for him on the bed as I sat up and reached for the grocery bag. “Gimme,” I said, sticking my hand inside and yanking out that familiar, yellow wrapper. Once I ripped it open, I took a big bite into the crispy, chocolatey delight. I gazed up at Beau for a second. “Thanks.”
He plopped himself down beside me and pulled out a bag of ketchup chips. “It won’t be so bad here, you know,” he said, stuffing a huge chip into his mouth and crunching down on it.
“I know.” I sniffled and took anther bite.
“Then why are you crying?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “I’m a girl, Moreau. I think you forget that sometimes.”
He laughed, throwing his head back. “Trust me, Martin, I never forget you’re a girl.” His big chest shook as he kept laughing.
“You do.”
Beau stopped laughing and peered down at me. “What are you talking about?”
“I know I act tough, and I run my life in a fairly logical, methodical manner. I also try my best to help other people run their lives the same way. But,” I said, sniffing again, “I’m still a girl. I have feelings like everyone else.”
“I know you have feelings.”
I shook my head, feeling my heart squeeze. “No, I don’t think you do. I know getting engaged doesn’t mean anything to you. But it’s something a girl thinks about since—well, since they learn that’s even a thing. We spend our whole lives dreaming and thinking—wishing and hoping—and then—”
“And then you get a fake engagement to some asshole who needs help cleaning up his public persona?”
I shrugged again, stealing a chip from Beau’s bag. “It just wasn’t exactly what I’d been dreaming about for the last twenty-two years, that’s all. And I know it’s fake, Beau. You don’t have to worry about that. It’s just—a lot of change. And a lot of—”
“Disappointment?” He stopped chewing and looked me in the eye.
“Kind of.”
He nodded and sighed, then stuffed his hand back into the bag. “We can tell Angelique and Marcel this is too much. They’ve gone to far this time.”
I shook my head and bit into my bar. “No, we can’t. They’re depending on us, Beau. They’ve done so much for me over the years. I can do this one thing for them.”
“It’s not the end of the world. They’ll be fine. It’ll take them some work, but I’m sure they can find two other idiots to try to get the press to focus on,” he said, setting the bag of chips between us. His hand dove around in the bag and pulled out a Coffee Crisp.
“I’m no quitter, Moreau,” I mumbled over top a mouthful of chocolatey goodness.
We sat there in silence, eating and crunching.
I wanted to apologize again for what I’d agreed to with Sienna, but at the moment, I didn’t have the emotional wherewithal to do it.