The Beau & the Belle
Page 37
The thought makes me break out in a sweaty panic, but then I decide there’s no possible way they’ll be able to find us in the madness. There are thousands of people on Bourbon at this point. In this one bar alone, there are a couple hundred people filtering in and out. If I think about it too hard, I feel claustrophobic and panicky.
The bartender finally sees my wild flailing arms and I order more alcohol to help ease my nerves. It works so well that I forget Charlotte’s announcement right up until I’m on the dance floor and Preston appears, standing in front of me wearing jeans, a black shirt, and a bemused smile.
“You’ve got moves,” he teases.
I stop watering my lawn and clear my throat.
“Thanks!”
“What are you drinking?”
I hold up my half-finished frozen hurricane. “Want it? It tastes like a bunch of Oompa Loompas threw up their all-candy diet.”
I thrust it out for him to take, mostly so I don’t continue guzzling it down myself. It’s a sweet, slushy concoction that completely masks the taste of alcohol. I think this is my third one, and it’s given me supernatural powers—I can see Preston’s aura, and when I squint, he multiplies.
He takes the drink and manages one tiny sip.
“Yeah, that’s awful.” He laughs and drops it on a nearby table. “I’m going to go grab something else. Want to come with me?”
My only other option is to continue dancing, and I need a break. I’ve done the running man so many times, my knees hurt.
“Okay. Sure.”
I’m confused to find him so genial. Shouldn’t he hate me after what I did to him yesterday? That phone call was pretty abrupt—not to mention, Beau hung up on him.
He leads me over to the bar with his hand on the small of my back. My sweater has ridden up enough that his fingers touch my skin, and I don’t think I’m supposed to be here, doing this with him.
When we’re at the bar, I sidestep his grasp and turn to face him.
He has a few inches on me so I have to pop up on my toes to reach his ear. There’s no way he’ll hear me over the music otherwise.
“You’re not mad at me after yesterday?”
“What do you mean?”
“That phone call.”
He laughs and shakes his head. “I was expecting it.”
Wow. Okay. How very mature of him.
“Things were moving way too fast,” he continues. “I got excited, and it probably freaked you out.” Yeah, I mean, I’m glad he’s aware of that. “I’m happy to slow things down a bit, get to know each other again.”
My smile is slowly wiped off my face.
“Wait, what?”
He shakes his head and leans in. “C’mon, Lauren, I get it. You don’t want a boyfriend right now. That’s cool—my ego isn’t bruised. Besides, I was happy when Charlotte called and told me you wanted me to come tonight.”
SHE WHAT?!
Earlier in the night, the girls were asking me about my love life. They heard about Preston and me, saw our photo in the society pages like everyone else. They thought we made a great couple and went on and on about how adorable our children would be. I tried to end the conversation quickly by telling them we weren’t seeing each other anymore, but I didn’t go into the details about why. Now I wish I had.
Charlotte catches my eye over Preston’s shoulder and winks conspiratorially then she makes fake kissing sounds and pretends to make out with her hand. She thinks she’s done me a massive favor.
No.
This is a mistake.
“Listen, Preston, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. I’m seeing someone else.”
Even with all the alcohol in my system, I think I do a pretty good job of offering a clear, concise response. There can be no confusion.
“Is it serious?” he asks.
Oh.
Well…
It feels like he’s just scribbled a Good Will Hunting equation on a chalkboard and asked me to solve it.
“Um…I mean, not currently, but I want it to be—at least, I think I do.”
I haven’t even acknowledged that fact to myself, so it feels weird to admit it out loud to Preston.
He frowns and tips his head toward mine. His finger finds a few strands of my hair and he tucks them behind my ear gently. It feels so unnatural, like he’s seen the gesture on TV and is trying it out for himself. “Lauren, I’m not going to walk away after all the history we have together. Go on dates with other guys, do whatever you want, but in the end, I’ll be waiting for you.”
Charlotte overhears this and shouts, “THAT’S THE CUTEST THING I’VE EVER HEARD!”
Preston laughs good-naturedly, and I grasp for any alcohol within reach. It happens to be Preston’s whiskey sour. I down half of it with one long swallow.
He tugs it back out of my hand. “Slow down there, champ.”
I need my phone.
I need to call Beau and let him know I’m with Preston before he hears about it from someone else. Oh my god, what if he shows up right this second and sees Preston spinning my curl around his finger? I yank it away and make a feeble excuse about needing the bathroom. Instead, I wind my way to the side of the bar and rip my phone out of my clutch.
I go to my contacts and start scrolling.
Ashley
Aunt Debbie
Baylee
Becca
Betsy
No Beau.
I scroll again. He’s not there. I don’t have his number. Hilarious.
So this is what it was like in the Stone Ages. How horrifying! I kissed someone I’ve never even texted before. What if he uses a million emojis? Or worse, what if he doesn’t use punctuation? These are modern-day deal-breakers!
I consider dialing the operator like it’s the 40s and just saying, “Connect me to Beau Fortier.” Instead, I decide to improvise like a detective and call his office. I’ll ask his secretary for his number and everything will be right in the world.
Unfortunately, I get the firm’s answering machine. I’m told to call back between the hours of 8:00 AM and 6:00 PM. No, this won’t do. I leave a heated voicemail message demanding that someone call me back immediately. It cuts off sooner than I would like, so I call again and leave a second message. I wonder how long it will take for someone to call me back.
“…I KNOW THIS is all getting a little confusing, especially because you don’t even know Charlotte. She’s nice. Did I tell you she’s a mom now? Yeah, it’s crazy because I knew her when she had braces and now she has a baby! She was so worried about stretch marks but I saw her tummy and it looks great. Oh! But back to what I was saying, I think she had good intentions, but she was sooooo off base to invite Preston here. I thought he was going to be upset with me about the phone call when we were, you know…YOU KNOW. Instead, he was all ‘I’ll wait for you no matter what,’ which is sweet but weird, just like these drinks I’ve been drinking. I don’t know, I keep thinking of the old Preston who didn’t give two shits whether or not I liked—”
The voicemail cuts off and then the next one starts up.
“Me again. I think your answering machine is broken, it keeps cutting me off outta nowhere. As I was saying…wait.” Someone asks her if they can get by to use the bathroom. “Oh, sure thing. Here, just use the men’s. I’ll make sure no one goes in.” There’s unintelligible mumbling and then she’s back, focusing on the voicemail. “Yeah, so…wait, is this thing still recording? Operator?”
The voicemail beeps again, cutting her off.
There are a few of us crowded around my receptionist’s desk, listening to Lauren’s voicemails from last night.
Russ can’t contain his laughter.
Michelle is doing her best not to smile. “Do you want to listen to the next one?”
“How many more are there?”
“Two, maybe three.”
I can’t help but smile.
“Did she leave her number on any of them?”
“No, and I listened twice just to be sure.”
I could get her phone number from her parents, but I’d rather not. Besides, tomorrow is the luncheon. I’d rather talk to her in person.
The bartender finally sees my wild flailing arms and I order more alcohol to help ease my nerves. It works so well that I forget Charlotte’s announcement right up until I’m on the dance floor and Preston appears, standing in front of me wearing jeans, a black shirt, and a bemused smile.
“You’ve got moves,” he teases.
I stop watering my lawn and clear my throat.
“Thanks!”
“What are you drinking?”
I hold up my half-finished frozen hurricane. “Want it? It tastes like a bunch of Oompa Loompas threw up their all-candy diet.”
I thrust it out for him to take, mostly so I don’t continue guzzling it down myself. It’s a sweet, slushy concoction that completely masks the taste of alcohol. I think this is my third one, and it’s given me supernatural powers—I can see Preston’s aura, and when I squint, he multiplies.
He takes the drink and manages one tiny sip.
“Yeah, that’s awful.” He laughs and drops it on a nearby table. “I’m going to go grab something else. Want to come with me?”
My only other option is to continue dancing, and I need a break. I’ve done the running man so many times, my knees hurt.
“Okay. Sure.”
I’m confused to find him so genial. Shouldn’t he hate me after what I did to him yesterday? That phone call was pretty abrupt—not to mention, Beau hung up on him.
He leads me over to the bar with his hand on the small of my back. My sweater has ridden up enough that his fingers touch my skin, and I don’t think I’m supposed to be here, doing this with him.
When we’re at the bar, I sidestep his grasp and turn to face him.
He has a few inches on me so I have to pop up on my toes to reach his ear. There’s no way he’ll hear me over the music otherwise.
“You’re not mad at me after yesterday?”
“What do you mean?”
“That phone call.”
He laughs and shakes his head. “I was expecting it.”
Wow. Okay. How very mature of him.
“Things were moving way too fast,” he continues. “I got excited, and it probably freaked you out.” Yeah, I mean, I’m glad he’s aware of that. “I’m happy to slow things down a bit, get to know each other again.”
My smile is slowly wiped off my face.
“Wait, what?”
He shakes his head and leans in. “C’mon, Lauren, I get it. You don’t want a boyfriend right now. That’s cool—my ego isn’t bruised. Besides, I was happy when Charlotte called and told me you wanted me to come tonight.”
SHE WHAT?!
Earlier in the night, the girls were asking me about my love life. They heard about Preston and me, saw our photo in the society pages like everyone else. They thought we made a great couple and went on and on about how adorable our children would be. I tried to end the conversation quickly by telling them we weren’t seeing each other anymore, but I didn’t go into the details about why. Now I wish I had.
Charlotte catches my eye over Preston’s shoulder and winks conspiratorially then she makes fake kissing sounds and pretends to make out with her hand. She thinks she’s done me a massive favor.
No.
This is a mistake.
“Listen, Preston, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. I’m seeing someone else.”
Even with all the alcohol in my system, I think I do a pretty good job of offering a clear, concise response. There can be no confusion.
“Is it serious?” he asks.
Oh.
Well…
It feels like he’s just scribbled a Good Will Hunting equation on a chalkboard and asked me to solve it.
“Um…I mean, not currently, but I want it to be—at least, I think I do.”
I haven’t even acknowledged that fact to myself, so it feels weird to admit it out loud to Preston.
He frowns and tips his head toward mine. His finger finds a few strands of my hair and he tucks them behind my ear gently. It feels so unnatural, like he’s seen the gesture on TV and is trying it out for himself. “Lauren, I’m not going to walk away after all the history we have together. Go on dates with other guys, do whatever you want, but in the end, I’ll be waiting for you.”
Charlotte overhears this and shouts, “THAT’S THE CUTEST THING I’VE EVER HEARD!”
Preston laughs good-naturedly, and I grasp for any alcohol within reach. It happens to be Preston’s whiskey sour. I down half of it with one long swallow.
He tugs it back out of my hand. “Slow down there, champ.”
I need my phone.
I need to call Beau and let him know I’m with Preston before he hears about it from someone else. Oh my god, what if he shows up right this second and sees Preston spinning my curl around his finger? I yank it away and make a feeble excuse about needing the bathroom. Instead, I wind my way to the side of the bar and rip my phone out of my clutch.
I go to my contacts and start scrolling.
Ashley
Aunt Debbie
Baylee
Becca
Betsy
No Beau.
I scroll again. He’s not there. I don’t have his number. Hilarious.
So this is what it was like in the Stone Ages. How horrifying! I kissed someone I’ve never even texted before. What if he uses a million emojis? Or worse, what if he doesn’t use punctuation? These are modern-day deal-breakers!
I consider dialing the operator like it’s the 40s and just saying, “Connect me to Beau Fortier.” Instead, I decide to improvise like a detective and call his office. I’ll ask his secretary for his number and everything will be right in the world.
Unfortunately, I get the firm’s answering machine. I’m told to call back between the hours of 8:00 AM and 6:00 PM. No, this won’t do. I leave a heated voicemail message demanding that someone call me back immediately. It cuts off sooner than I would like, so I call again and leave a second message. I wonder how long it will take for someone to call me back.
“…I KNOW THIS is all getting a little confusing, especially because you don’t even know Charlotte. She’s nice. Did I tell you she’s a mom now? Yeah, it’s crazy because I knew her when she had braces and now she has a baby! She was so worried about stretch marks but I saw her tummy and it looks great. Oh! But back to what I was saying, I think she had good intentions, but she was sooooo off base to invite Preston here. I thought he was going to be upset with me about the phone call when we were, you know…YOU KNOW. Instead, he was all ‘I’ll wait for you no matter what,’ which is sweet but weird, just like these drinks I’ve been drinking. I don’t know, I keep thinking of the old Preston who didn’t give two shits whether or not I liked—”
The voicemail cuts off and then the next one starts up.
“Me again. I think your answering machine is broken, it keeps cutting me off outta nowhere. As I was saying…wait.” Someone asks her if they can get by to use the bathroom. “Oh, sure thing. Here, just use the men’s. I’ll make sure no one goes in.” There’s unintelligible mumbling and then she’s back, focusing on the voicemail. “Yeah, so…wait, is this thing still recording? Operator?”
The voicemail beeps again, cutting her off.
There are a few of us crowded around my receptionist’s desk, listening to Lauren’s voicemails from last night.
Russ can’t contain his laughter.
Michelle is doing her best not to smile. “Do you want to listen to the next one?”
“How many more are there?”
“Two, maybe three.”
I can’t help but smile.
“Did she leave her number on any of them?”
“No, and I listened twice just to be sure.”
I could get her phone number from her parents, but I’d rather not. Besides, tomorrow is the luncheon. I’d rather talk to her in person.
