Page 79 of Expecting an Argument
“Too late,” he replied softly, a wan smile on his face. “I’m in love with you, Olivia.”
I clenched my teeth to stop the tears that threatened to fall. My poor Beau Fontaine, what had I done to you? How could I have let you spiral this far?
I had to stop this, for his own good.
My lip trembled, but I lifted myself off the bark and straightened my spine. “Beau, I…I tried too. You gave meeverything I could have ever wanted, but I can’t go where you want to lead me.”
His face fell as I turned away and my heart nearly split in two.
I clutched my arms as I forced out my next words. “I’m…I’m going to stay with Ashley until the twins are born.”
The air crumpled around us as I walked away from him, each of my steps heavier than the last. I was nearly back to the manor before I heard grass crunching beneath boots.
“So that’s how you really are, huh?” Beau called. “You get what you want out of me and then you just leave!”
I whipped around. “Don’t you dare, Beau Fontaine. I am not Katie!”
“I never said that!” he shouted. “God, is the imaginary version of me in your head really that horrible? Is that why you don’t want to be with me?”
“No,this,”I gestured to the empty space between our bodies, “is why. We’re fighting worse than we did as kids! We would never make each other happy!”
He shook his head, his brows tightly knitted but his eyes soft. “You can’t really believe that.”
I didn’t believe it. Beau did make me happy. He made me feel safe, and content, and…stable. I loosened the fists that had formed at my sides and shifted my weight to the balls of my feet, ready to run forward and wrap my arms around him.
But wasn’t that exactly how Mom had felt after a fight with my dad? Or after being humiliated and degraded by her other worthless boyfriends? The submission to romantic feelings is what perpetuated the cycle that turned into my mom’s downward spiral.
And as much as I loved Beau, I loved my babies more. The idea of drowning in a man when I only had myself to lose was frightening, but dragging my twins down with me was unthinkable.
I adored and respected my mother, but I had to make different choices—even if it meant leaving Annie and Brady’s father behind.
I took Mom’s words to heart and silently recited,I can do hard things.
Though it hurt like hell, I forced myself to turn away from him. “I’ll let you know about the twins, but please don’t come after me. I’m…I’m fine on my own.”
He sucked in a breath and held the tense silence for a pounding heartbeat. “I’ll look forward to my weekends with them, then.”
I listened to the fading crunch of his footsteps as he walked away. Titus, however, remained by my side. I hooked my fingers around his collar and fought through the aches in my back and the weight of my belly as we headed to the manor together.
My chest was hollow as I opened the manor door to let Ashley and Tyson in. I slumped in a chair in the foyer, absently scratching behind Titus’s ears as I watched my friends haul my suitcases and newborn supplies out to the truck.
Tyson had just carried out the double bassinet when a spike of guilt shot through me. I knew I had to leave the manor, but I couldn’t leave Beau torn and frayed.
Nothing was more important to Beau Fontaine than the truth, so I could at least tell him that I loved him back.
I heaved myself out of my chair and Titus followed me into Beau’s study. My hands rested on the handles of the top drawer of the desk when I paused, taking in the six ultrasound photos Beau had framed and set on the mahogany desktop. Each photo marked the beginning of every milestone in the pregnancy—from the very first snapshot of our wiggly twins, the anatomy scan where we saw their sweet profiles for the first time, and the most recent ultrasound that captured the curves of their cheeks and their pouty little lips.
He had taken their care, and mine, so seriously. I had been annoyed at first, but as I stared at the beautiful yet blurry photos of my twins’ faces, I couldn’t help but see the benefit of the rainbow cups of water, the daily pancakes, and all the rest I got to have.
I wouldn’t have had any of it without him.
I bit my lip as I yanked open the desk drawer and pulled out the blue pack of sticky notes that rested near dozens of identical pens. I held a black marker right above my note before the glossy corner of a photo in the drawer caught my eye.
I pinched the corner of the photo and slowly pulled it out from behind the box of pens. It was the picture we had snapped as we were walking out of the April Showers gala. My hands cradled my bump and Beau held a bright yellow prop umbrella over my head. We both gave the camera tired, but genuine, smiles—a portrait of what “The Fontaine Family” would have looked like.
I couldn’t lie to myself and believe Beau was just storing the photo until the right frame came in. I thought of the shelves of photos hidden away in his room—of his grandfather, of Katie, and of his lost father—not memories, but prisoners of the past.
Everything I wanted to lock out, he wanted to lock in. He clung to his own heartbreak as if he had nothing without it. He claimed to be a dragon guarding his secrets, but his real treasure was everything he had lost but couldn’t bear to forget.
