Praise (Salacious Players Club, #1)(83)

He wouldn’t come here, would he?

But then the man walks in a little farther, and I make out those sandy brown curls and slightly thinner frame. What the hell is Beau doing here?

He spots me behind the counter and gives me an awkward wave. Oh God…this is going to be awful. I haven’t exactly faced my ex-boyfriend since he found out I was screwing his dad.

As he approaches the counter, I sort of expect him to be irate and start ranting at me and calling me names, but he doesn’t.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey.”

“Sorry to bother you at work. Do you have time for a break?”

“Umm…” I stammer. Getting yelled at by my ex isn’t exactly how I’d like to spend my break.

“I’m not mad,” he says, obviously reading my mind. “I just feel like we should talk.”

“Uhh…sure.” Turning away from him, I go back to the office where Shelley is working and ask her to cover while I’m on break, which she does. I take off my skates and slip into my slides. Then, I walk with Beau out to the parking lot. It’s early May, which means it’s warm, a little windy, and not a cloud in sight.

If there was any weather suitable for this conversation…I guess this is it.

When we reach his truck, he flips down the tailgate and I climb up. We used to do this a lot between shifts at work or for lunch. It makes me feel like the old me, not Charlotte, the girl who wore stilettos and played a sexy secretary for her boss.

Beau and I sit in silence for a few minutes.

Finally, he glances my way and says with a grimace, “My dad, Charlie?”

Fuck this. I hop off the tailgate and start my march back to the front door. He calls after me before I can reach it. “I’m sorry, just come back.”

“I’m not going to spend my break getting guilt-tripped by you.”

“I’m not guilt-tripping you!” he argues. “I just want to hear your side of the story.”

“My side?” I ask, spinning around. “Did you talk to him already?”

“Yeah. I just came from there.”

I’m frozen in place, asking myself if I want to hear what Emerson had to say. “No, I can’t hear it.”

“Charlie, come back. I’m serious. I’ll be nice.”

Before overthinking it, I turn around and walk slowly back to Beau. “So if you already talked to him, what do you want to hear from me?”

“I just want to make sure he didn’t…”

I watch as he stumbles over his words. “Didn’t what?”

“You know…force you into anything.”

My eyebrows pinch together as I stare at him in shock. Is he serious right now? “Force me?”

“Yeah…he’s your boss, Charlie. Not to mention my dad.”

“Ugh!” I groan, throwing my arms up. “No, Beau. He didn’t force me or manipulate me. I appreciate the concern, but your dad was actually nice to me. Probably the nicest boyfriend I’ve ever had, if I’m being honest. If anything, he was the one pushing me away for weeks.”

“And you go to that…club?”

“Don’t act so holier-than-thou, Beau. I was actually happy with him there.”

“This just isn’t like you,” he adds with his chin up and his shoulders back, body language that I’m used to seeing on him to mean he thinks he knows more than me.

My blood is starting to boil, and it’s taking everything in me not to just walk inside and ignore him all together before I do something really stupid.

“Beau…how would you know what I’m like?”

“We dated for a year and a half, Charlie. I know you.”

I shake my head, staring at the ground. I don’t want to keep arguing with him. I thought we were over this.

“Were you really happy with him?” he asks.

“Yes, but he was never going to commit to me. Not if he ever wanted you back.”

“Did you guys really think I was going to just be okay with this?” He sounds appalled, and the urge to run away is fierce again.

“Yes, Beau. It has nothing to do with you. For once I figured you’d be able to accept that not everything is about you!” I snap.

“He’s my dad, Charlie! Not to mention he owns that…club. Look at it from my perspective. You act like you’re so much happier with him than you were with me.”

My jaw nearly hits the floor. I’m done. Done sparing his feelings. Done putting up with his gaslighting and blaming and patronizing ways.

“Maybe because I was! Even when he treated me like property, I felt more valued, more…liked, when I was with him,” I yell.

“Are you implying I didn’t treat you like I liked you?” He jumps off the tailgate and steps up toe to toe with me.

“Yes, Beau. That’s exactly what I’m implying. Emerson never once made me feel stupid or acted like I messed everything up. He never cheated on me.”

“This again?” He throws his arms up.

“Forget it. What is the point?” I ask, spinning around to leave him in the parking lot.

“He told me he loves you. Did you know that?”

His words stop me in my tracks. My spine straightens as I let this news sink in. Did I know that Emerson loved me? Maybe somewhere deep down I did. I certainly know I love him. This news should excite me. It should be the best thing I’ve ever heard, but it only hurts me more.