Page 43 of Not that Sea-Rious
Beau
A fter a three-hour meeting with Beau’s new lawyer, Matthew Gordon, Beau’s head was mush. He could not comprehend another sentence. Actually, for the last half hour of discussions, Beau couldn’t be sure he understood a damn thing, but the clock was ticking. He couldn’t be out of work for very long.
Considering he recently purchased an engagement ring, which Megan didn’t even have the decency to return, booked a cruise with a ton of little extras, and was now staying in a hotel for the foreseeable future, his bank account was a lot leaner than he’d like it to be. He shouldn’t pussyfoot around.
The dissolution of his business was inevitable. There was no way around that, but that didn’t mean he had to get royally screwed—well, more than he already was. He could still come out on top, and Matt was the key to that.
What he’d taken away from the conversation was that the buyout deal wasn’t that bad, but it could be better. So Matt planned on making a few adjustments and sending them over to Rob and Jordan for consideration. Beau’s head throbbed.
Sure that his brain was about to pulse out of his skull, Beau stumbled into his hotel room and flung himself onto his bed. What he wouldn’t give to be throwing himself face-first into Marissa.
It’d been three days since he’d last seen her. Seventy-two hours of radio silence. He’d attempted to keep in contact with her, but she hadn’t responded to his well-meaning texts. He wasn’t being creepy—just the occasional good morning and asking how the wedding prep was going.
Crickets.
Beau hadn’t wanted to end their—whatever they had going on.
He’d only intended to be honest with her.
His time was limited. Between chatting with lawyers, reading over the buyout contract, writing notes in the margins, and calling his former clients and letting them know he was no longer involved with the company, he’d barely had the opportunity, or desire, to eat.
Wait.
Had he even had breakfast? Coffee and a donut counted. Right?
Checking his phone for the time, he frowned, seeing no notifications regarding incoming texts. His last text had gone unanswered. He couldn’t keep chasing a woman who didn’t want him. Except he felt like she did.
There was definitely a disconnect, and he needed to sort that out. Marissa was too good of a woman to let her go. Yes, his life was a fucking disaster right now, but he’d clean it up. He needed time. Losing his chance with Marissa wasn’t an option. He needed to fix whatever had screwed all this up.
Rolling over, filled with determination, he stuffed his phone into his pocket and jumped off the bed. First, he’d get something quick to eat, and then he’d go to Marissa’s hotel to have a chat with her. Their last talk didn’t go so well. Maybe a second attempt would be better.
Beau probably should’ve gone to a florist. Not that the grocery store bouquet was ugly, but it wasn’t the best quality.
The flowers wouldn’t last all that long.
Though, to be fair, she wasn’t sticking around in Florida.
The wedding was in a few days. She’d be gone in less than a week, so maybe these flowers were perfect for the brief window she’d be around.
Sitting in his car, looking over the colorful floral collection, he nodded to himself. Yes. These were perfect. They wouldn’t be a burden on her. When it was her time to go home, they would be dead, so she wouldn’t have to worry about them.
Nodding again, he took a deep breath and got out of the car. He glanced around the large lot as hesitance crept up his spine. Marissa hadn’t responded to him. Should he listen to her and give her space, or should he keep pursuing her?
Would this be considered stalking?
No.
She’d simply misunderstood what he’d meant when he shared his current situation with her. He’d used the wrong words. Tonight, he’d set the record straight. It was the right thing to do.
With his head high and his shoulders back, he marched toward the front of the hotel.
“Beau?” a familiar feminine voice called.
Turning, he spotted a woman carrying a toddler on her hip beside a bulky man with a garment bag over his shoulder. It took him far too long to recognize Joyce as she got closer.
He smiled warmly and raised a hand to greet her. “Joyce.” He took a few steps to close the distance between them. “Nice to see you again.”
Her smile seemed forced, almost hesitant, and she looked him over. Questions were behind her eyes.
“Who’s this?” he asked, gesturing toward the young girl.
“Ava, this is Mommy’s friend Beau,” she introduced before turning her head to the man beside her staring Beau down. “Beau, this is my daughter, Ava, and my husband, Ted. Ted, this is Beau.” She paused and shifted her gaze back on Beau. “Marissa’s, uh—”
“Friend,” Beau offered as he stuck out his hand.
One of Ted’s brows rose as he accepted the brief handshake.
“The wedding isn’t for a few days. What are you doing here?”
Beau scrubbed the back of his neck as he considered his answer.
“Flowers,” the child said and reached for the bouquet he held. “Flower girl.”
Joyce frowned and shifted her daughter. “No, baby,” she said. “Not for you.”
Seeing an opportunity to perhaps get Joyce and her broody husband on his side, Beau plucked a particularly bright daisy from the bunch and offered it to the little girl. “If your mom and dad say it’s okay, you can have it.”
Joyce glanced at Ted before nodding with tight lips.
She might have only consented to him giving her daughter a flower, but he took it as a sign that Joyce was on his side. After he gave the plumage to the now giddy child, he turned his attention to her mother.
“I think Marissa and I had a bit of a miscommunication.”
Joyce arched a brow. “Interesting wording.”
“I didn’t want to end anything with her.”
Ted stepped forward. “I’ll take Ava. Why don’t you two get out of the middle of the parking lot and have your talk?”
Joyce passed the kid to her husband as the group strolled to the sidewalk and entrance to the hotel. After a quick but sweet kiss between the married couple, Ted escorted his daughter, who twirled her pink daisy, into the hotel and disappeared.
The woman focused on Beau and cocked her head to the side. “I don’t know what was said between the two of you, but the message was clear: you weren’t available. So why are you even here?”
Slumping his shoulders, Beau scrubbed at his face. “That’s not what I wanted her to take away from our talk. My life is in shambles.”
“Do I have to repeat my question?” Joyce asked, sounding like a teacher scolding her class.
He sighed and glanced out into the parking lot.
“I don’t have a place to live. I’m in the process of being bought out of my own company.
” He brought his attention back to Joyce.
“I literally have nothing to bring to the table, but I still want to be there. Missing out on the opportunity of getting to know Marissa better would only be the cherry on top of my shit sundae. Yes, I’m limited on time, but that doesn’t change how I—”
Joyce’s expression softened when he cut himself off.
Struggling to find the correct word to end his sentence—one that would encompass what went on between them and what he wanted to continue to go on, he stood silent. Perhaps for too long.
“You feel?” Joyce offered as she placed her hand over his.
Swallowing hard, he nodded. “This weekend, being with her, hearing her laugh, meeting all of you, I—I can’t let what she and I have go just yet.
I’ve lost a lot in this week but not this.
There is potential for greatness, and I refuse to let my life circumstances prevent me from doing everything I can to make a relationship with Marissa happen. ”
A smile spread on Joyce’s face, and she patted his hand. “I was right about you. You’re a decent guy.”
Beau couldn’t help but snort. “Thanks.”
“She’s not here,” she said and reached for the flowers. “Do you have a card with these?”
Allowing her to take them, Beau scanned the collection of blossoms. “Uh. I didn’t fill one out.”
“Hmm,” she hummed. “Yeah, there’s none in here.”
He ran his hand through his hair. “Should I have?”
“We’ll improvise. Do you have a business card?”
“Oh, yeah.” He stuck his hand in his pocket for his wallet.
“Write something nice on the back. I’ll make sure she gets them.”