Page 49 of Lady Sings the Blues

“You aren’t getting it. Iforgiveyou.”

There’s the lightbulb moment. “Fuck.” He runs his fingers through his hair gathering it like he’s going to pull it into a bun but without his hair tie, lets the strands fall again. “You mean it? Really, honestly mean it? Because I can’t go on with life thinkin’ we’re good only to have you spend your life fumin’ away, waitin’ to explode all over me.”

“I mean it. I’ve spent all night thinking. And well, you didn’treallydo anything wrong. Aside from not supporting me at the funeral. Or telling me who you are.”

“Who gives a fuck if I’m Mark or Beau?” He slams his hand down onto the bed next to him. “I’m still the man who loved you in high school. I’m still the man who loves you now.”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Apparently Idon’tcare. So if you want me, I’m telling you now, you have me. All of me.”

Throwing off the bedclothes, Beau leaps from the overstuffed mattress. Smile lines crinkle around his glassy eyes, and the crooked one around his lips. In two steps has me, holding me in his arms. Tenderness to his touch, using a crooked finger, he tips my chin up. “Let’s go home, darlin’. We’ll go to the store, invite some friends over. I’ve got a kickass grill. Steaks sound good?”

“With bleu cheese, fried onions and creamed spinach on the side?” I laugh as hot tears run down my cheeks.

Beau swipes at my tears, clearing his throat. “Can you cook creamed spinach?”

“Sure. I’m a great cook.”

He shifts slightly, still buck naked, to unhook the towel covering me, letting it drop to the floor so our bare bodies press together. Although the scene becomes intimate he doesn’t act on it, moving his hands to my hips instead.

Beau presses his forehead to mine, squeezing his eyes shut. “Check us out,” he says. “How very domestic of us.”

“Domestic sounds nice.”

“Domestic sounds fucking perfect.”

---