By the Book (Meant to Be #2)(56)

She waited until he looked at her.

“I know,” he said. “You’re right. You don’t have to say it.”

He broke off a piece of lemon bar but didn’t pick it up.

“Anyway. That’s what I left out. Most of it, anyway. I haven’t really told this to anyone. I can’t believe I thought I could write about this. It was so hard just to tell you, and I like you! How did I ever think I could tell the whole world?”

The notebook was still in the middle of the table. She pushed it toward him.

“You can. You will.” He shook his head, but she kept talking. “Write down everything you just told me. It’s going to be rough, but you can do this. We can work on it together, after you’ve gotten it all down.”

He put his hand on top of the notebook and looked at her. “We? Does this mean you’re staying?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I guess it does.”

She hadn’t known she’d made the decision to stay until this moment.

“Isabelle, you don’t—”

She cut him off. “I know I don’t have to.”

He let out a breath. “Thank you. I…I’m really glad.” He picked up the notebook and tucked it under his arm. “And—I know I’ve already said this, but—I’m sorry, again, about what I said earlier about you. That’s not how I really feel, at all. I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

Despite everything, she believed him.

“Okay,” she said. “I accept your apology. You don’t have to say it again.” She stood up and looked him in the eye. “But, Beau: Don’t ever do that to me again.”

He looked back at her. “I won’t,” he said. “I promise.”





When Izzy came downstairs the next morning to get coffee, Beau was in the kitchen.

“Oh, hi,” she said. She felt awkward with him again, like she had at first. Was he going to regret all those revelations of the night before?

“Good morning.” He smiled at her, a little tentatively. He held up her key ring, with the keys to the house and car on it. “These are still yours. If you want them.”

She held out a hand, and he walked over and dropped the keys in it.

“Also.” He took the milk out of the fridge and handed it to her. “You didn’t tell me when that homework assignment you gave me was due. But I couldn’t sleep last night, so I wrote it all up. And then I typed it up this morning. You don’t have to look at it now. I just wanted you to know.”

“No time like the present,” she said. “Where’s your laptop?”

“Oh.” He looked terrified. “I didn’t expect—You don’t have to do it now. I just wanted you to know I was taking it seriously. What you said.”

She took a gulp of coffee. “You keep telling me I don’t have to do things—Beau, do you think I don’t know that? You’ve lived with me for almost a month now. Is there a lot that I’ve done here that it seemed like I didn’t want to do?”

She hadn’t been like that before she’d gotten here. She’d done so much that she didn’t want to do for Marta, at work in general, even with guys she’d dated. She’d thought she had to—to advance in her job, for them to like her, keep dating her. All the terrible movies she’d seen, boring lectures she’d sat through, gross beers she’d sipped. She’d smiled the whole time, but now she realized how unhappy she’d been.

“Now that you mention it, I can’t think of a single thing that you’ve done here that it seemed like you didn’t want to do,” he said. “Well, other than those pep talks that first week.”

She laughed. “You’ve got me there.”

They smiled at each other, for real this time.

“I think I keep saying that,” he said, “because I don’t want to be like my dad. And sometimes I am like him. I was, in the library yesterday. So I want to make sure that…you’re sure.”

She picked up a cinnamon roll from the pan next to him on top of the stove. They were still warm. She looked up at him as she thought about how to respond to what he’d said. He looked at her intently as he waited.

“Yesterday you promised me you’d never treat me like that again.” He started to say something, but she held up a hand to stop him. “I’m still here because I believed you. And if I ever feel like you’re doing anything—even unintentionally—to break that promise, I’ll tell you. Okay?”

He suddenly looked lighter. “Okay,” he said. “Thank you.”

She smiled at him. “You’re welcome.”

He smiled back. He picked up a cinnamon roll and pulled off a piece of it. He popped the bite into his mouth and then licked the frosting off his finger. She suddenly realized they were standing very close. Closer than they’d been since…

He took a step closer to her. “Isabelle.”

She liked when he said her name like that, all low voiced and sleepy and a little growly. When did she start liking that? She hadn’t liked it before, had she? Had she liked it when he’d done that at the very beginning?

She had. Of course she had.

She took a step back. “So, um, where’s your laptop?”