Page 51 of Beau & Autumn

I can get off work at four. How about you?

I see the gray bubble appear as he types back, so I wait for a message to pop up, twirling the ends of my hair.

Beauster

Yeah, sounds good. I can get out of here early too. How about 4.30 at Stones Throw?

That’s the cute cafe in town that makes the best coffee.

I find myself smiling, a little nervous tug at my stomach could also be disguised as excitement. But I am still trying to rationalize with myself that nothing is going on here. I was tipsy and told him too much information. I should never have brought up Carrie and what she said, but my stupid drunk brain didn’t comprehend that at the time.

I slap my palm to my forehead. There’s no way we can get married.

We would both have to be clinically insane to think we could get away with such a thing, and that no one would suspect why we were doing it. Not that I’m thinking of doing it, but why is my body humming to Beau Bassett’s drum all of a sudden?

Why can’t I get my best friend out of my head or his sexy scent and pretty eyes. It’s like I’ve had Beau Kool Aid and now I can’t go back.

I quickly type back before my head can go running away with itself again like it’s been doing to me all day.

Me

Sounds good. See you then.

Way to go, Autumn! I want to slap myself. But realistically it might be a good chance for us to have a laugh about this whole ridiculous idea altogether. And I’m sure — now Beau has had time to think about it in the light of day — he would have to agree it’s all a bit of a hoot. I mean, he did put it in black and white when he sent me that text, but still.

We could do this. It solves a problem for both of us. But if you don’t, I won’t hold it against you.

Since when did solving my problems involve marrying my best friend? Just so I can collect my inheritance and be able to do all the things I need to for my business and to fix my house. I know I should just ask Anton, but something stops me.

My head throbs thinking about it. I couldn’t have had worse luck lately with the whole roof leaking thing, then the bank declining my loan, my lying and cheating ex… Everything in my brain fogs over all at once as though it’s lining up my recent problems one by one, just in case I wasn’t already aware of them.

It’s my fault for having one wine too many at the Bassett’s dinner table. I take full responsibility for getting that way. I can’t even blame it on the great vibe of the night with Celeste and Callan’s baby news, even if it was the real highlight and cause for celebration.

I keep playing the conversation with Beau over and over again; the way I so boldly told him Carrie’s crazy plan thinking he’d have a laugh about it too. Thank God Georgia-Blue was asleep and didn’t hear any of the casual banter about arranged weddings and me marrying her brother! I mean, what would the rest of the Bassett’s say? And could we really convince them that our sudden marriage was real? Who would even buy that? At the very least we would have to act like it was real… But isn’t that the same as lying? I want to slap myself again.

NO! I’m not going to, because Beau and I are not getting married!

And I’m going to prove it by plunging myself into work during the last hour and not think about any of it until I get to the cafe. And when I get there the whole ridiculous notion will be shut down entirely when Beau and I share a chuckle and a lemon bar, and shake our heads at how crazy two people can be when alcohol is involved.

That’s what I expect to happen, and for now that puts me at ease.

At least until 4.30, then I can find out what Beau really thinks.

??

I run a few errands before I leave work and drive out to the gas station to fill up my car. On my last birthday, Dad insisted on buying me a BMW X1 SUV, which I didn’t exactly say no to. It’s a burnt rusty orange color and I absolutely love it. It’s probably a little over the top for driving around the quiet streets of Stoney Creek, but I’ve always loved SUVs and my dad wanted me to be safe when I drive back and forth to see them in Memphis. Not that I have for a while, and now I feel even more guilty.

I decide I’ll call them later and set some time aside before I get too busy with the wedding season. I just hope it doesn’t lead to another conversation with Mom about Michael. Why the hell she loves that guy so much is just downright annoying. I guess because she only sees the dollar signs and the prestige of me having a rich husband from an affluent family. That could have something to do with it. At least Gran is a little more sympathetic. Though she has openly said she wasn’t sure at first about Grandpa. They became friends at the beginning of the marriage; neither of them were certain they could make it work being so young and the fact they didn’t know one another. But after a while it slowly grew to love. I know things working out that way these days are highly unlikely, and I couldn’t think of anything worse than actually marrying a complete stranger, but I suppose it worked out for Gran and Gramps.

I jump in and fire up the engine, running my hands over the sleek steering wheel. My car is all curved edges with a soft cream and black interior. It has everything from wireless charging to driver assistance. That’s been a real bonus for me when parking in tight spots and reversing.

I’m singing along to Ed Sheeran on the radio when I travel back into town from the gas station to meet Beau when my car starts making a weird noise, then comes the glugging and gurgling. I’m just about to pull over when I see something on the road, which looks like a piece of wood that may have fallen off the back of a work vehicle. I don't have time to swerve or to stop, running over it as it makes a clunk, and I wince. The last thing I want to do is damage my car or get a flat.

It’s only another half mile down the road that my car starts to pull to the left and then I hear more weird noises. The whole front left side of the car is almost bouncing along. I flick my indicator on and pull over, knowing that I must have a flat tire, but something else also doesn’t seem right.

“Damn you!” I curse, when I get out of the car and take a look at my tire. Sure enough, it’s gone down right before my eyes. I want to kick the stupid thing, but I don’t want to hurt my foot, since I have to now walk the rest of the way until I can get help to get the tire changed or someone comes out to get me.

I pull out my cell to dial Beau, since I’m most definitely going to be late now, when I hear a horn toot as it passes me, then pulls over just ahead.

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