Page 58 of Expecting an Argument
As soon as I grabbed my water and stepped away from the counter, my eyes widened as my uterus suddenly tightened like a period cramp. I dropped my hands to my belly—it was hard as a rock.
“I…I think I’m having a contraction,” I said.
Beau pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Get in the truck—I’m calling the hospital.”
Ashley hopped off the counter and waved her hand at Beau. “Calm down, big guy. It’s probably just a Braxton Hicks.”
Beau’s eyebrows furrowed. “How can you be sure?”
“It doesn’t feel…big.” I let out a long breath as the pressure in my abdomen released. Annie and Brady kicked me over and over, probably panicking like they had just experienced an earthquake—the poor dears.
“Yep, that was just a practice contraction.” Ashley said as she patted my belly. “If you can talk through it, it’s not the real deal. We should still pick up the pace with the renovation, though. Just in case.”
After we finished assuring Beau that I was just fine, all four of us walked to the front door. Beau gave Tyson an awkward farewell handshake before helping me down the porch stairs and into the truck.
As soon as we pulled away from the curb, Beau scoffed and muttered “Those damn overalls,” under his breath.
I turned to him. “Why do you hate Tyson so much?”
A muscle feathered in his cheek as he drove. “I don’t hate him.”
“You sure act like you do. What did he ever do to you?”
“Nothing, he just…” He fell into silence for a few moments as we drove through the historic neighborhood. “Tyson is…lucky.”
I scoffed.“You’relucky. You’re one of the richest men in the state.”
“Yes, but…” He let out a long, slow breath. “You see, my grandpa—”
“The first Beau,” I clarified.
He nodded. “The first Beau. He would always tell me, ‘Boy, you used up a lifetime’s worth of luck just being born with my name.’ I never knew what he meant until I met Tyson. You would think the man was born on a bed of four-leaf clovers with how good everything went for him. He had great grades, always had friends who actually liked him, and then at the state championship game…”
Beau shook his head, but kept his eyes locked on the road. “I fucked up, but the college recruiters who came for me only sawhim.He walked on my back straight toward a full scholarship at a major university.”
I shot him a look. “What? You expected him to pass on a greatopportunity to spare your pride?”
“No, I—” He ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I know I sound like a bitter asshole bemoaning a high school football game, but that’s just one example. The man scored a national championship, he’s famous, people want to sponsor him for everything, he has two kids, a wife who isinsaneabout him, loving parents who are still around—”
“You’re threatened by the man who needs his wife to tell the waitress his steak is underdone?”
“I’m not threatened by him, oranyone,”he said pointedly. “Tyson Copeland is a measuring stick—the more fortune favors him, the more I’m reminded that I never hadanythinggood in my life once I was born. He proves that my Grandpa was right.”
Beau could deny it all he wanted, but he was competing against his old teammate. He was the only one keeping score and he was still losing.
“I lost my…” he swallowed, “…the state championship, then my shot at playing pro—the only chance I had to do anything other than work for my family’s company—, then I lost my spot as top of the class, then I lost all my friends once they inevitably turned out to be greedy little snakes, then I lost thelove of my lifebecause she was just as bad as them.”
I stiffened as he choked on his words. It always came back to Katie, didn’t it?
He took a quick breath and regained his composure. “But I actually get to be a dad now. Maybe this time, fortune will finally favor me.”
I folded my arms on top of my belly and glanced out the window as we headed into the country. “Maybe so.”
But only if Beau could learn to let things go.
“I have my doubts, though.” He let out a shallow laugh. “You know, back when I was in middle school, Grandpa forced me to volunteer at his family center because he was afraid my dad wasraising me to be a spoiled brat. I’ll never forget him thumping the platinum handle of his cane against one of those cardboard Thanksgiving boxes and saying, ‘You’re closer to needing one of these than having anything good ever happen to you again.’”
My blood suddenly ran cold. The Thanksgiving boxes. “How…how long did you work at the Fontaine Family Center?”
