“I need to talk to her,” he states, confirming my assumption.
When I force myself to look at him again, I notice there’s no longer a trace of humor.
I nervously bite down on my lip. I hate confrontation. All of it. Any of it. And this is already stressing me out.
This isn’t for me. It’s for Elouise.
Mustering all of my courage, I roll my shoulders back and face Beckett straight on, “She doesn’t want to see you.”
My heartbeat is skittering all over the place, but Beckett doesn’t act angry. He doesn’t yell or throw things or call me names, he just nods.
“She’s mad,” I add, feeling bolstered, Then I shut up. I’ve read about negotiation tactics before and wonder if he’s trying to use the silence to get me to talk.
But Beckett nods again, “I’d be mad too.”
Ooookay. He’s being agreeable. I don’t really know what to do with this.
At a loss, I just nod back in return. All too aware that most of this conversation has been us moving our heads up and down.
“Maddie,” he sighs, “please. I need to talk to her.”
I’m back to biting my lip.
“She’s staying with you, right?” he asks. “Can you at least tell me that? That she’s okay?”
My nod is slower this time. I don’t know how much Elouise would want me to say.
Well, I know she’d tell me that she doesn’t want anything to do with him. But that’d be her stubborn head speaking. I think her heart might have other ideas.
Beckett bends over, resting his elbows on the counter, his head dropping in defeat, “I’m not married.”
“I knew it!” the words come out at a near shout, startling us both. “I mean,” I continue at a lower volume, “I was pretty sure. I pulled a – never mind. It doesn’t matter. But you’re not married? Like not at all?”
Bolstered by my excitement, Beckett straightens back to his full height, “Not at all.”
I tilt my head, while I watch him. “Then why’d that chick introduce herself as your wife?”
He heaves out a breath, “She’s my ex-wife.”
My brows raise, “Um, I feel like Elouise would’ve mentioned it if you were married before.”
Beckett runs a hand through his hair, “I didn’t tell her.”
Still stressing over the whole encounter, I channel my inner P!nk and cross my arms over my chest. “Probably should’ve mentioned that. Don’t ya think?”
“Yes,” the way the word crawls from his clenched teeth tells me he’s probably had this conversation a time or twenty with himself. “And I’d like to explain myself to Elouise, but she won’t answer her phone and she hasn’t been home. And I really don’t want to barge into her classroom-”
“Again,” I butt in.
“Again,” he repeats. “But I’m running out of options. And patience. And I hate that she’s spent this whole week thinking I’m a cheating bastard.”
I let my arms drop to my sides, “If I tell you where she’ll be tonight, you have to find a way to make her listen. Because if I do this, and you mess it up, it’s going to be me that she takes it out on.”
“Please,” he pleads. “I promise I won’t fuck it up.”
I’m torn, but staring into his intimidating eyes, I find I believe him.