Page 61 of Emergency Engagement
“How? By running away?”
“I’ll answer to her for that—”
“I expect you will.”
“Look, last night took me by surprise, and I’m not proud of how I reacted, but the bottom line remains. I can’t deliver the happy ending, okay? I don’t have it in me.” But he might have a panic attack in him. His throat felt tight, and someone had parked a backhoe on his sternum.
“Beau,” his mom interjected. “You’re spending so much of your energy stifling your emotions you don’t know what you have in you. And you’re so determined to avoid getting hurt, you don’t see you’re doing more damage than God, or fate, or luck ever could.” She took his hand and squeezed, as if she could wring something out of him. “How do youfeelabout Savannah?”
He shook his head. Speech was out of the question.
His mom rubbed his hand. “Thanksgiving Day, when you told us you and Savannah were engaged, I was really happy to hear the news, but on the drive home I admitted to your father I had concerns. I saw two people with a lot of chemistry between them, and some easy affection—I think that’s one of Savannah’s gifts—but no real emotional connection. I told Trent I thought you two were in lust, not love. But I had hope because chemistry and affection had gotten you to the point where you were willing to take a chance on something deeper. I staked a lot on that willingness.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll reimburse you and Savannah’s mother for the dress.”
She waved the comment aside. “I’m not talking about financial stakes. Here’s the thing, a week later, when we had dinner together, I saw two people in tune to each other. While I discussed my upcoming surgery, she sensed your anxiety and reached for you, and you held on to her. Took comfort fromher touch. That night I said to myself, ‘Aha. It’s not all fun and games. He’s fallen.’”
He shook his head. The weight on his chest paralyzed him. “I can’t—”
“You already have. Done deal, Beau. The only question is whether you’re brave enough to face up to your feelings and strong enough to convince Savannah to trust you with hers. I believe she’s at Sinclair’s, if you want to find out.”
His heart pounded like a Code 3. His lungs couldn’t seem to pull in enough air. But even in the midst of a full physical meltdown, one terrifyingly clear thought lodged in his mind. His mom was right. He hadn’t meant to. God knew he hadn’t wanted to, but he’d fallen in love with Savannah, and she was going to have their baby. He’d gone all-in weeks ago, whether he liked it or not.
His mom patted his hand and stood. She padded out of the kitchen and returned a minute later holding a large box in her arms. “This is for you. Merry Christmas.”
He got up and took it from her. “What is it?”
“A couple good things came out of my cancer diagnosis, one being I finally organized all our boxes of photos into albums. I thought you should have these.”
“More naked baby photos?” His smile felt weak.
“Among others. I hope you’ll look through them when you get some time. Share them with Savannah.”
He lowered his head to accept her hug and kiss.
His dad said, “Good luck,” and then he was back in the Yukon, staring out the windshield at the slate of gray sky, wondering how the hell to go about begging Savannah’s forgiveness for his behavior last night. How could he convince her to trust him? Beyond “I’m sorry” and “I love you,” nothing sprang to mind. His mom had nailed it. He was years out of practice doing stuff like talking things out and explaining his feelings.You’re gonnahave to get better at it, starting now.
He had a vague idea of where Sinclair lived, and steered the truck along the lonely back road in the direction of the Whitehall Plantation. The antebellum stone and plank barn rose behind a screen of willow trees that managed to look like giant, graceful artifacts with their bare winter branches. He pulled into the packed dirt driveway and bounced along under the leafless canopy until the big, rolling wooden doors came into view. Then he spotted Sinclair in the yard, adding seed to a bird feeder. She dropped the scoop into the bag on the ground and dusted her hands off on her jeans as he rolled to a stop. By the time he stepped out, she’d made it to the side of the truck.
“Hi—” That’s as far as he got before her palm connected with his cheek and the air around them echoed with the impact. It could have been worse, he acknowledged as the sting subsided. He’d seen a Smith girl throw a punch.
She shook out her hand. “Merry Christmas, Montgomery. You look like shit.”
“Thanks. Merry Christmas to you, too. Is Savannah available?”
Her body language told him the slap wasn’t all the punishment he should expect. She folded her arms and rocked back on the flat heels of her tall black boots. “As a matter of fact, she’s not.”
“My parents told me she’s here.”
“I didn’t say she’s not here. I said she wasn’t available.”
He pressed his fingers to his brow bone in an attempt to ease the tension headache blooming behind his eye socket. “I realize I’m on your shit list, and hers, and pretty much everybody’s at this point, but there’s more to resolve here than the fact that I acted like an asshole last night. I need to talk to her.”
“I’ll let her know you stopped by and give her the message.”
“Goddammit, Sinclair—”
She marched up to go head-to-head with him. “Look, she’s asleep, finally, and I’m not going to wake her. She’s exhausted.If you want to talk to her, you’re going to have to wait until she’s ready to have a conversation. I don’t think that’s too much to ask, do you?”
