She snorts. “Got it. See you soon.”
After hanging up with Goldie, I’m no closer to knowing how to respond to Beau’s text messages. Truthfully, I am surprised he text messaged me after the way I laid into him last night.
Did I get emotional? Kind of. Did I have a big reaction? Maybe. But he has to understand why. Even if he’s eleven years behind me in life, he has to understand I’m protecting my child, too.
Though as I look down at my phone and see Dustin in my recent calls, I realize, maybe I’m just scared to let go of what I’ve already lost.
My phone screen illuminates in my hand as another text message comes through.
Beau:I want to put in for a ride with you, but not if you don’t want to pick me up.
Shit, he needs to be at work in forty-five minutes, and normally this is the time he sends his ride request. Texting him back that I can’t take him at least opens the door for conversation, and I need that because with Beau, sometimes I don’t know where to start.
He twists me up like no other. I feel tingly and warm, I want to ask him what he was like as a child as I stroke his head in my lap, I want toLady and the Trampa piece of spaghetti with him, I want to smell his cologne on my sheets and wake to his voice in my ear. I want it all and I know it’s not mine to have forever, which can make time with him confusing.
I fire off a text, making sure I’m not the reason he’s late to work.
Beck:I can’t drive you today. I think I’m coming down with something.
Beau:Is Jett sick?
I can’t help but smile at the fact that he asked about my son. Dustin couldn’t wait to verbally disown him to me on the phone yet again last night, and here’s Beau, wondering and caring of his own volition.
Beck:Not sure. He sounds congested, but he’s still asleep.
Beck:He went back to bed after his morning nursing session. Unlike him. And I’m hot and a little off balance and achy.
Beck:You’ll have to drive yourself today.
Beau:That’s fine. I would have loved to see you this morning, but rides without Jetpack just aren’t the same anyway.
Beau:Can I come by after work? And see you two?
See you two.
The words echo through my brain, bouncing around the corners of my mind, telling me the thing I thought was impossible mayactuallybe possible.
Maybe someone will want you, even when you’re a single mom with a baby and a new business. Maybe someone will want you.
Maybe Beauactuallywants you.
Beck:My best friend is coming down to help out, so my little house will be pretty full. Thanks though.
Beau:Shit, you got help coming? How bad do you feel?
Beck:She is having employment issues. She was coming anyway. It just so happens that now when she comes she’ll have to do more than drink my La Croix and fill up my DVR.
Beau:You will let me know if you need anything though, right?
Beck:Of course
Beau:Fine. Now I’m all concerned. And you still haven’t given me any answers about last night.
Beck:I’m sorry if you felt attacked.
I stare at my words. I’m not apologizing for protecting myself. But do my words accurately represent my heart?
Sure, my mind is logical and smart, apologizing for any emotional distress I may have caused him is okay. But the organ pumping harder at just the mention of him, the one behind my ribs that flutters like a schoolgirl with a crush just reading his name on my screen—it's not so sure I said what I really wanted to say.