Page 74 of Beau & Autumn

I raise my palms in the air. “Hey, no judgment. Whatever floats your boat, Wifey.”

“I swear, there is a storyline in there as well as the… you know…”

I feign innocence. “No, baby girl, I don’t know, you might have to explain it to me.”

She looks down at her plate, trying to look anywhere but at me. “There are some… uh, elements of… BDSM… But like I say, it’s not just about the sexy stuff. Christian had a really horrible childhood…”

“Uh, huh.” I give her a wink. “Sorry to say I’ve no whips and paddles lying around here, Wifey. I’m pretty boring compared to Christian Grey.”

Her eyes are as wide as saucers and I burst out laughing. “Beau!” She presses her fingers to her flaming cheeks. It’s so adorable.

“What? Why are you so embarrassed? I think it’s cool that my wife reads romance.”

“You know you don’t have to call me that when we’re in private.”

I don’t like that idea, not one little bit. “I know, but I have to get used to it. Practice makes perfect, right?”

She chuckles to herself. I like to see her smile. “Fine, husband. I’m not going to ask if I can leave the table and have a soak in your tub.”

I do not need the mental image of Autumn naked in my bath, but it’s too late now.

“Good, because what’s mine is yours. You don’t have to ask. I just don’t know if I have any smelly shit that girls like to put in the tub.”

“I brought some bath bombs, but I’ll have to get more.”

I make a mental note that she likes those so I can pick some up in town. I also stocked up the fridge with Dr. Pepper — her favorite soda — put a carton of cookies n cream ice cream in the freezer for later, and made some room in the hall closet to put her coat and boots when the weather turns bad. I want her to feel at home while she’s here and not a ‘guest’.

“I also have something for you. Since we’re not having a real honeymoon there had to be something to mark the occasion,” I say.

She blinks up at me. “A marriage license and a real diamond are probably enough.”

It’s probably dumb, but Georgia was throwing some shit out the other day and I thought of Autumn. I know she’s creative and I thought she might be able to use it.

“It’s nothing. Georgia doesn’t use it and I thought of you.” I jump up and walk over to the hallway where I left the flower press in a bag. A little while ago she told me she’d always liked the idea of drying out flowers and making them into confetti for Eden’s table decorating.

“What is it?” She tries to peer into the bag as I approach, holding it in my hand.

“Like I said, it’s not much…”

She clearly likes surprises; it’s just another cool thing about her that I like. From the glow on her face and her excited smile I can see she’s like a giddy kid, and that in turn makes me smile. I hand her the bag and she sets it on the table and pulls it out.

“What in the?—”

“I thought you could press the corsage flowers.” The words are out before I can stop them. “And then keep them as a little keepsake. You’re always saying how it’s sad when flowers die off and they just get thrown away.”

She blinks, then looks up at me. “You got me a flower press?”

I swallow hard. Did I fuck up? “Uh, yeah.”

Tears well in her eyes as I stare at her, taken aback, my heart pumping wildly at her reaction. “This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

“I certainly hope not.” I mean every word. “I just hate seeing things go to waste if someone can use them, blame Brooklyn he’s always—” She cuts me off by raising from her chair to give me a one-armed hug.

“Thank you, Beau. I love it. Just as much as I loved the corsage, that was so sweet of you.”

Her sweet vanilla scent muddles my thoughts as I try not to breathe her in. I try and fail.

“You’re welcome,” I stammer. “In the old days, that’s what people did, and I think some old traditions are still really cool. My grandpa was very much like that; a gentleman. He held doors open, never swore in front of a woman and he even bought my grandma flowers every Sunday. Sometimes he tore them out of someone’s garden, but it’s the thought that counts.”

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