BEAU

"Aren't you glad to have him back?" Emma asks, leaning her chin on a long hand, big brown eyes glowing warmly at me. She closes her book, nearly finished after an afternoon of reading while I work on a new song, and gives me her full attention.

Rubbing a thick, velvety ear between my fingers, I use my other hand to give Zeus a butt scratch, pushing my lyrics to the side. His long legs hang off the lumpy couch, his head nestled snugly in my lap.

"I hope he's happy here," I murmur, scanning the apartment, now even more crowded with his large bed, excess food, and basket of toys. Dex said Mrs. Williams had had enough of Zeus - something about one destroyed houseplant too many - and Dex thought it'd be good for me to take him home again.

Now that I'm doing better.

His words, not mine.

Am I doing better?

The scratchy burn at the back of my throat is still there, probably always will be, but I haven't seriously considered drinking in awhile. Dex calls that progress.

"He's with you," Emma grins, slowly rising to her feet from her spot sitting cross-legged on the floor. "Why wouldn't he be happy?"

My mind shifts from the lack of space or outdoor access for the German Shepherd to Emma's growing belly, seemingly a little fuller each day.

"I'm going to make some dinner." She heads into the kitchen, peering into the fridge with a concentrated look on her face. It's better stocked now that she's around more and my stomach grumbles gratefully. "Mind if play some music?"

"Am I not good enough?" I cock my head to the side, a teasing smirk on my lips.

Pulling her long, blonde strands into a knot atop her head, Emma chuckles. "I'd love to listen to you - all day even. But considering you won't let me hear any of the new stuff all the way through..." she trails off, eyeing me playfully while sniffing a gallon of milk.

I tilt my head back against the couch, suddenly very tired. She's right - I haven't finished anything I've started the past couple of weeks. For the first time in my life, nothing sounds right. If I feel I've got the lyrics down, the guitar doesn't blend well. If I've got the chords, I suddenly forget how to write a song worth listening to.

It's a good thing I got Zach some of the music when I did - I've hit a complete block ever since.

Running my fingers through Zeus's fur, I lose myself in thought, mind lulled by the sounds of Emma cooking dinner. Boiling water, pasta snapping, something sizzling in the pan... Is that... Is that country music?

"Emma," I groan, standing as Zeus reluctantly moves to his dog bed, and make my way behind her. Eyeing the chicken popping in the pan, I take Emma's arm and turn her to me, her body close enough to mine that her belly presses against my abdomen. "What did I say about country music? I don't want the baby exposed to such a travesty so early in life."

I rest my hand on the side of her belly and my breath catches, as it does every time. There's something - someone - in there. A tiny person. My tiny person.

"Mmm." Easily, Emma rests her forehead against my shoulder, sliding her arms around my neck as she gently sways side to side. "But doesn't it make you want to get up and slow dance?"

Taken aback by her touch, I hesitate for just a second before wrapping my arms around her, pressing my palms to the small of her back. Sure that she can hear my heart beating faster and faster, I chuckle into her hair, inhaling the fruity scent deeply.

"No." I shake my head truthfully, swaying in time anyways. "Only you make me want to get up and slow dance."

She doesn't look up at me, but I feel her lips pull into a smile against my neck. I'm not sure how she'll react when I say things like that, when I tell her how I feel. The past few weeks have been different - peaceful, as we spend more time just being around one another.

After the message on Instagram, something I wanted to do more about but couldn't because she deleted her account, I've been stopping by every evening to check on her at her condo. She is determined not to stay with me at my place, but I think she feels better when I stop by anyways.

After a couple of nights, checking in turned into Emma asking me to stay for dinner. Staying for dinner turned into hanging out on the weekends, her reading or catching up on work, me trying, and failing, to write new music.

But no matter how good it feels, how nice it is to hold her like this now, swaying to shitty music with her nestled against my chest, I know things are not the same. She's not the same and I'm the one to blame for it.

And so I do nothing. I tell her the truth, I dance with her when she wants me to, I spend as much time with her as I can. And I don't push her for more.

Because I'm lucky to be getting anything at all.

The thought reverberates against the walls of my chest like a deep ache as Emma slips out of my grasp, contentedly humming to herself as she resumes her stirring at the stove.

Within the hour, we're seated across from each other at the wobbly kitchen table the apartment came with, steaming plates of chicken Alfredo between us. I watch her appreciatively as she does a little dance in her stool, happily swirling pasta around her fork.

Shoving a huge forkful into her mouth, Emma lets out a groan. "Mmmm. The baby loves carbs."

I bite back my smirk as her eyes flutter open to meet mine. The baby loves a lot of things: ice cream, particularly any variety of chocolate, being another favorite at the moment.

"It's delicious," I almost inhale my whole plate, already piling up on seconds when Emma speaks again.

"So how is the song coming?" She pushes her dish towards the center of the table and leans her chin in her hands, watching me with wide eyes.

"It's alright." I shrug simply, clearing my throat with a long chug of water.

"When can I hear it?"

"When it doesn't suck." Running my fingers through my hair, I continue a little less gruffly. "It's missing ... something, I just don't know what. I can't figure it out."

"Writers block," Emma nods, thick brows crinkling over her eyes. "Has that ever happened to you before?"

"Nope," I smack my lips, my frustration with myself building. "Maybe going to therapy made me boring,"

Emma's head rolls to the side as she lets out a giggle, nose crinkling adorably. "I don't think that's it."

I smile back. I don't think so either.

Being so close to her, and not being able to reach out and touch her when I want to- how I want to, her answering the door with her hair still damp over her shoulders, waking up hard as a damn rock the night we shared a bed and rushing to the bathroom before she noticed... Not being able to relieve myself without picturing her, her body, her hands...on me, everywhere...

I blow a huff of air out of my cheeks and feel the pent up pressure within me increase another notch. A lifetime of this and I'll never write another song again. That's if I don't die of combustion first - the need for sexual release already almost too much to endure.

"How's Parker?" Emma asks suddenly and I'm glad for the change in topic.

Shifting uncomfortably in my jeans, I explain. "We talked a couple of days ago. He was better than the last time we talked, excited to be released again soon. I told him he should visit, once he sees his family and stuff."

"You did?" Emma's brows shoot up at me skeptically.

Staring at the chipped polish on my thumb, I nod sheepishly.

"Good." She says finally, a smile pulling at the corners of her lips. "I can't wait to meet him."

I nod noncommittally, which is enough for now. It's quiet for a couple minutes and I know there's something she wants to say. So I'm patient, quietly chewing my food until she's ready, as I know she will be soon.

"So..." Emma murmurs finally, pulling her napkin apart with long fingers, carefully forming a pile of its remnants before scattering them again. "Gemma's wedding is next weekend."

That shifts my attention, at least somewhat. I still can't believe the little hellion is getting married.

"That will be interesting," I eat the last bite off my plate and take it to the sink, grabbing Emma's on the way. Running the faucet over them, I leave them to soak and rejoin Emma at the table.

She gnaws her bottom lip, her eyes flashing up to my face, shyly peering at me from beneath her lashes.

"Would you want to be my date?"

My jaw pops open at her question and I snap it closed, ignoring the rush that runs through me as I try to appear cool. I raise my brows at her, narrowing my eyes suggestively, blood already buzzing with electricity.

"Like, your date-date?"

Emma rolls her eyes, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. "As my friend who I'm having a baby with."

She grins at the absurd description and I match her smile halfheartedly, the sting of it sharper than I'd like to admit.

I lower my gaze, aware that she's still watching me, waiting for a response, and let myself imagine what would happen if I said yes. I've never gone to a wedding, everyone all stuffed up wearing their fanciest clothes and making small talk, comfortably sipping cocktails and making their way to the dance floor. Emma will look so beautiful.

But she won't be mine.

"I don't think Gemma would like that." I conclude slowly, the pit in my gut growing as Emma's face falls noticeably.

"Oh," is all that she says for a few minutes. The air is tense until she speaks again. "Adam asked me to go as friends, so... So I think I'll be telling him yes then."

Her coworkers stupid smile fills my mind and my fist clenches beneath the table. I want to punch that smile clean off. Not quite as badly as I wish I could beat myself for saying no in the first place, but still.

Her eyes are wide on my face, like they're asking me to say something else, to change my mind maybe. But all I say is "Okay," the regret filling me up before the word even fully leaves my mouth.

Interrupting us, my phone begins to vibrate on the coffee table in the living room where I've left it.

Happy to shield my face from Emma, I slump onto the sofa and glance at the screen.

Fuck.

I roll my eyes to the ceiling and ignore the call. Eyes closed, palms pressed into them, Emma's voice grabs my attention.

"Zoey, again?"

I nod in response, still rubbing my eyes in slow circles. She's not giving up with this kid, our kid, Max. The text I get immediately following her voicemail confirms it.

Again.

"You don't want to meet him?" Emma asks softly, distractedly grabbing all her papers from the floor and stuffing them into her bag.

I wish it was that simple - of course I want to meet him. But it's not my place, not Zoey's.

Once her things are organized, Emma slips into a denim jacket, gently perching on the couch beside me, gaze expectant on my face.

"He's got a good life." I sigh, more to myself than to her. "I don't want to mess that up."

Emma's hand rests on my own, anxiously pulling at the frayed denim of my jeans. Her touch is so warm, so comforting, and then it's gone.

She stands and I follow, walking her to the door. Tilting her head back to meet my eyes, Emma grins softly, her hand resting lightly on my chest, sending my heart hammering a mile a minute.

"I'm proud of you."

I blink at her, stunned and not sure how to reply. Before I can, she steps into the evening air, car keys already in hand. I scan the lot, only satisfied when I note the black SUV I've hired to follow her, and open my mouth to say goodbye.

"Oh," Emma turns on her heel, facing me again, a coy smirk on her lips. "I was thinking, you should just move into the lake house. More space for Zeus, right? He'd love the lake, I bet."

She looks for something in her purse casually, leaving me dumbfounded, like it wasn't just an insane offer.

"It's yours." I say finally, swallowing the emotion caught in my throat.

"You bought it," Emma laughs easily. "I'm not there much, anyways. Plus, maybe it'll be easier when the baby comes... if we have a place to stay together, that fits both of us. In case... In case we need it."

"Easier." I repeat, nodding slowly as I try to tame the erratic direction of my thoughts. This isn't Emma asking to move in with me, nothing like that. It's a matter of convenience, nothing more. "I'll think about it."

"Good. And I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Of course." I answer truthfully, the hope in her eyes too hard to resist.

And every day after that, if she wants.

With one last smile, Emma waves over her shoulder and makes her way to her little car, alone in the lot except for the SUV. I watch until she's driven away, the lonely feeling that comes every time she leaves already dampening my good mood.

Drumming my fingers against the cool steering wheel, I roll my eyes to the ceiling as my music is interrupted by another call from Zoey.

The third today, actually.

Eyeing the clock and seeing I have some time before Emma is off work, I pick up reluctantly, barking into the speakerphone.

"Yeah?"

"Beau, it's Zoey." She sounds hurried, out of breath. Jack wails in the background, hurting even my ears, and I grimace.

"You don't say," I murmur, turning down the volume of my radio.

"I want to talk about Max, Beau. Please, I had an idea."

People are coming out of the publishing house now. My dashboard clock must be off by a little. Watching for Emma, I rush Zoey to continue. "Well, what is it?"

The crying gets louder on her end and she nearly shouts to be heard. "What if we drove to him, you and me? We don't have to meet him, or anything. We can just see him. What do you think?"

My brows furrow as I see the two women, Lizzie and Tori, that Emma doesn't like, walking out side by side. Behind them, Adam, her nerdy little coworker, adjusts a brief case over his shoulder, jingling his car keys in his hands.

I suck air between my teeth, growing agitated. "That doesn't make sense, Zoey. You want us to stalk him? Are you nuts?"

"Not stalk him." Her voice is snippy. "Just once, one time, is all I'm asking. We'll keep our distance, I swear. I just have to know that he's all right. I have to see it for myself."

Adam comes closer to the car, eyes squinting as he looks between the mustang and his own ride. His face puckers, like he's considering something important, and I don't budge my stare from him when he finally makes eye contact through the windshield.

"Beau?" Zoey snaps just as Adam finally decides, marching in that goofy way he has, up to my window.

"Give me a couple days to think about it." I tell Zoey, ending the call before she can agree and pushing the crazy idea from the forefront of my mind.

Rolling my window down obnoxiously slowly, I can't help but smirk at the scrawny, unsure man staring down at me.

"You're picking up Emma?" Adam asks, mouth in a firm line as he shifts his weight from foot to foot.

Who else? I nod.

"You don't deserve her." He says suddenly, confidently, like he's practiced it, his chin sticking out defiantly, chest puffed out with mock bravado.

I bite my tongue so that I don't laugh, the comment only slightly irritating me, but mostly, fueling my dislike for him. My eyes find Emma then, stepping out of the publishing house, a bright smile on her face as she waves to another employee.

"And you do?" I cut through the shit, eyeing him sharply. He wants Emma, he has for awhile. I know it, I've let him think I don't notice, but now... If we're all saying how we feel, anyways...

He sucks in a breath, also noticing Emma approaching, her brows furrowed and pace quickening now that she's seen us talking.

"Maybe." Adam says, adjusting the strap of his briefcase. "But that's for her to decide."

My brows raise at his tone, as if I make the decisions for Emma or something, before I shrug casually.

"Just like she decided to go with you to the wedding?" I smirk, turning up the radio volume again. He flinches, whether at the music or my question, I'm not sure. "Anyway, I'll make sure to drop her off in plenty of time on Saturday. Be a good friend and keep an eye on her, okay?"

As the words sink in - all of them: that she'll be with me early morning on Saturday, that I know that they're just going as friends, that she must've told me such - I can see it all over his face.

"Hey Beau," Emma interjects just as my satisfied smirk fades.

Adam plasters a mock smile on his face but mine is real, content with the frown lines he's now trying to hide.

"See ya tomorrow, Adam." Emma waves, looking between the two of us suspiciously, before Adam finally mumbles a goodbye and stalks to his car like a sullen child. "What was that about?" Em asks, eyes narrowed at me suspiciously.

"Nothing," I shrug simply, narrowly pulling in front of Adam's car as we exit the parking lot. After catching his eye in the rear view mirror, I turn to Emma, excited anticipation building within me, and give her thigh a squeeze. "Ready to go?"

Hi everyone
First, let me say how sorry I am that this update has taken so long
For those that didn't see my announcement, a loved one of mine was recently very ill and I was really busy helping out with that..
They are on the mend now and I am back to a more normal schedule - so expect more updates soon!
Thank you for your patience and support with me❤️

Why do we think of Beau's pov this chapter?
What do you think about his "writers block"😂
Should he move into the lake house?
Where are they headed?
What do you think of Zoey's plan?
Should Adam back off?
Remember to vote if you liked the chapter!