by Ava Miles
“What did you do, Mama?”
“We met at a bar one night, and Carlos was real nice to me, nicer than those worthless rednecks who loitered around drunk every night. He didn’t know I was married, and I never told him. He was new to town, just starting up his landscaping business. I stopped seeing him when I found out I was pregnant. Never told him about it or you.”
All Beau could hear was his heart pounding in his chest.
“Somehow he found out about you, either because of the timing or your features. Heck, it was a small town. When you came home from school one day talking about Mr. Garcia, I panicked. I told Carlos I would ruin him if he so much as came near you again. Told him I’d tell everyone he’d attacked me if he didn’t leave town. I didn’t want anyone to know you weren’t Walt Masters’ boy. I’d be ruined. You’d be called a bastard—a spic even—and treated even worse. You know small towns. You might not have looked like Walt much, but no one had the proof or the gall to say otherwise. See how you owe me, boy.”
He realized he was gripping the duvet, his knuckles white. The threat she’d made was as ugly as they got. “Why didn’t you tell me later? When I was older? I could have found him again.”
“I couldn’t make myself,” she said, her voice cracking. “I…was afraid I’d see what I saw in your eyes the last day you came to my house. Your career was our ticket to everything I ever wanted for us, and I didn’t want to lose you or hurt that. Beau, you’ve been my whole life.”
Tears burned his eyes, his entire system flooding with grief. Oh, Mama. “Perhaps it shouldn’t have been that way, but it’s done now. I… Thank you for finally telling me.” He couldn’t handle what that had cost him right now, but he’d have to deal with it. She’d made him trade for his daddy’s real name. A part of him still couldn’t believe it. But he intended to honor his word. He needed to.
“And what about us, Beau? Where does this leave us? You can fire me, but I’m still your mama.”
He sniffed and wiped away the tears leaking down his cheeks. “I don’t rightly know right now. I love you, but I’m still really angry at you for what you’ve done. All of it. I’ll…have to see.”
Her sharp intake of breath seemed to drill in his skull. “You get that career back on track, ya hear? I know Georgia has one hell of a reputation, but if she messes up with you, she and I will have it out for sure. You tell her that.”
He nodded, rubbing away more tears. “Goodbye, Mama.”
“Bye, Beau.”
When he hung up, the phone clattered to the floor. He put his head in his hands, the pain there throbbing, connecting to the pain in his heart. He sat there, praying it would abate some, and when he could stand, he walked to the door.
Now he had to explain what he’d done to Caitlyn.
Chapter 25
Caitlyn asked everyone to clear the house when she came down the stairs.
Quinn stepped forward, his jaw hard. “What happened?”
She forced herself to say the words she still struggled to believe. “He’s doing Ryan Williams.”
“What?” Michaela, who’d been standing next to their dad in the main room, rushed over and hugged her. “He wouldn’t! Caitlyn, he loves you.”
“His mom made him a deal about something very personal.” She glanced over to where Uncle Arthur and Aunt Clara were standing by the sofa. Everyone was on their feet, and no wonder. “She gave him the answer he wanted.”
Uncle Arthur sighed. “Well, she knew how to get her way. He wanted that information badly.”
“What answer?” Quinn locked his arms over his chest. “I thought everything was settled. Now, I’m going to have fun making him pay for hurting you and going back on his word.”
“Enough, Quinn!” She marched over to him.
“I know you’re upset, but I was coming down to help you counter the things they’re saying against you in the press, by the way, because you’re my sister. I only learned about the Williams press release when I checked my phone after landing.”
“I can’t…take this right now,” she said. “I need you to arrange for Beau to leave on your plane. Right away.” He would need to get back, and after what he’d done, she needed him gone.
Her father finally walked over and put his hand on her shoulder. “If you think that’s best. Quinn, call your pilot.”
“Caitlyn, are you sure?” Michaela asked.
She nodded, her throat thickening with emotion. She watched with a heavy heart as Quinn pulled out his phone and called his pilot.
“My car will take him when he’s ready,” her brother said. “The plane is being refueled now.”
“Good.” But it wasn’t good. It was horrible. Unimaginable. His mother was an awful woman, but he’d let her manipulate him again. And after she’d stood up for him.
“Sorry situation all around,” Uncle Arthur said. “For both of you.”
“Oh, Caitlyn,” Aunt Clara said. “It must have been a terrible choice for him. He does love you, but he’s been haunted by that other matter the whole time he’s been here.”
She knew it. But she kept returning to the fact that he’d known about his mother’s contact with Ryan Williams and done nothing to stop her… And while she understood why he’d traded his promise to her for his father’s name, Beau had helped her grow confident enough in herself to know she deserved better than that. Even from him. But God, it hurt.
“I’m not leaving until I hear what’s really going on here.” Quinn planted his feet like a bull.
“It sounds like this is personal, Quinn,” their dad said. “Come on. Let’s leave her alone like she’s asked.” He kissed her cheek, and Quinn put his hand on her shoulder before following their father out. Michaela hugged her again with all her might, the sweetness of the gesture nearly making her cry.
“I’m so sorry,” her sister said.
“Me too,” she whispered.
Aunt Clara crossed to hug her warmly, her eyes filled with the tears. Uncle Arthur gazed at her, his face serious, before taking Aunt Clara’s arm and leading her out.
The front door closed, and she let herself sink onto a chair in the main room. It was over. She’d known it when he’d mouthed I’m sorry to her. When she heard Beau’s footsteps on the stairs, she walked into the entryway to face him.
He stopped on the last step. “I don’t know what to say to you right now.”
She found it hard to draw breath. “Me either.”
“I didn’t feel like I had a choice,” he said, sitting on that last step and meeting her eyes. “You know how hard this was for me. Caitlyn, I’ve wanted to know who my real father is so badly, and then she told me that he’d probably want a relationship with me… I had to do it. Please understand. It was my only chance.”
She pressed her hand to her heart. “Part of me understands but the other part… Beau, I trusted you. I put my faith in you. This perfume means so much to me. You mean so much to me, and I was excited for us to do this together.”
His blue-gray eyes were wet. “Me too, that’s why this is so hard.”
“I know it’s not on par with learning the real name of a parent, but if you’d just signed the contract like I wanted, this couldn’t have happened.”
“I wanted to—I was trying to buy more time,” he said. “Caitlyn, my record label wasn’t behind me doing it, but I planned to bring them on board after I left here. I didn’t want to worry you.”
“You never told me that,” she said, her stomach sinking to the ground.
“No, I didn’t,” he said. “I would have turned them around, but—”
“What else didn’t you tell me? Because you sure as hell didn’t tell me you that your mom told you about Ryan Williams.”
“I have no excuses here,” he said, standing slowly. “Caitlyn, I know I hurt you. I let you down. Tell me how to make things right.”
Seeing him before her, his face haggard, his posture defeated, all she could do was shake her head again. “You can’t,
Beau. You said Old Beau let things slide, and I guess you were right. I can’t be with someone who I can’t trust when push comes to shove. The fact is: my perfume is in jeopardy, and you broke my heart.”
He looked down for a moment before raising his eyes. “I know I did, and I’m sorry. The words aren’t adequate. You put your trust in me, and I let you down.”
She made herself say what needed saying. Then she could break down. “You need to get back to Nashville and put your career back on track. Quinn’s driver will take you to Cannes as soon as you’ve packed. Our company pilot will fly you home. Since Merriam Enterprises brought you here, the least we can do is give you a return flight.”
His throat moved as he swallowed. “What about you? What can I do to help you? I know how much this perfume means to you. I love it too. I don’t want to be the cause of it failing. Maybe…I can ask Jake Lassiter to be the spokesperson. Or Rye Crenshaw. They’re…good guys. Either of them would fit the bill.”
Oh, she was going to lose it. He needed to leave. “I’ll regroup. Figure something out. Thanks for the referrals though.”
He made an agonized sound. “How do we go from talking about forever in the fields this morning to this?”
Pain slashed through her belly. Earlier, she’d imagined their wedding taking place at the edge of the fields with the reception at the farmhouse where they’d fallen in love. Now those dreams had turned to dust.
“Quinn always says business shouldn’t be mixed with other things,” she said, her voice cracking. “I was wrong not to listen.”
His face fell, but he stayed silent, gazing at her with red-rimmed blue eyes.
“You need to pack, and I need to see about some things. I’ll say goodbye now. Good luck with everything, Beau.”
His mouth pursed like he was fighting his words. Then he said, “You too, Sunshine. And thank you. For everything.”
Her lips were trembling. She couldn’t utter a reply, so she strode out the front door toward the fields. Usually the lavender soothed her, but only shorn plants remained.
The magic was gone.
Chapter 26
Beau packed with a heavy heart, his hands lingering over the coverlet of their bed when he finished. It smelled of them, and the thought nearly undid him.
They were done. Just like that. And his real last name was Garcia. Beau Garcia. He couldn’t wrap his head around any of it.
He sank down, feeling the mattress give way. He still couldn’t believe Carlos Garcia was his real father. As a boy, he’d thought him the kindest man, showing him things about the plants and grass and asking about his grades and school. His belly sliced open again. To think, his mama had threatened the man and forced him to leave town. He wanted to howl. All these years, his real dad had wanted to know him.
Well, he would find Mr. Garcia. His daddy. They would start over. Find new ground.
But Caitlyn? How was he supposed to walk away from this woman? He couldn’t blame her for wanting him gone. He’d done wrong by her all the way, but he didn’t see a clear path toward fixing it.
He picked up his bags and the flamenco guitar, his arms full, and walked to Hargreaves’ door. Since he mostly kept to his room, there was a chance he’d be there. The rest of the house was silent. When he knocked, there was brief pause and the door opened.
Hargreaves stood there, his face somber. “Sir?”
He was getting choked up already. This man had helped him so much. “I wanted to say goodbye, Hargreaves, and thank you for everything.”
The older man bowed formally. “Keep playing the flamenco guitar. You have talent. It was an honor to know you, sir.”
“The honor was mine,” he said, clearing his throat. Caitlyn’s family—including this man—had been nothing but warm and supportive. Shame washed over him. “Please tell Arthur and Clara I’m sorry. They can explain what happened. I’ll leave you now.”
He nodded, and Beau made himself walk away. Downstairs, a driver was waiting in the entryway.
“I’ll take your bags, sir,” he said.
“I’ll be a moment,” Beau said, knowing he couldn’t leave without trying to say goodbye to Ibrahim. The rest of Caitlyn’s family might be gone—at her bidding likely—but Ibrahim would be in the lab, working on the perfume and cologne Beau would no longer help share with the world.
When he entered the other house, the lone call of a man’s voice in French grabbed him by the throat. The singer sounded like he’d lost everything. He knew that kind of pain. It was odd how learning his real daddy’s name hadn’t lightened it none.
He rapped on the doorframe since Ibrahim was standing in front of his cabinets filled with fragrance notes. “You’re listening to Raï again. I’ll always be grateful you introduced me to it.”
Ibrahim turned, cocking his head. “Whatever happened is grave. Your skin has lost all color, Beau.”
He wasn’t going to beat around the bush. Not with this man he respected. “I made some awful mistakes. My mother threatened to sign me with Ryan Williams’ cologne if I didn’t return to Nashville. I didn’t take measures to stop her. I just learned she signed the contract in my name and the whole world knows.”
Ibrahim’s brows shot to his hairline. “That is serious.”
“I was going to back out of it,” he said, “but she dangled a powerful enticement in front of me.”
“The name of your real father.” He sighed deeply. “The truth at last.”
He laughed, the sound harsh even to his ears. “What did you call it? The most prized of fragrances.”
“Indeed,” he said, gesturing to the chair and sitting down himself. “And this has no doubt harmed your personal relationship with Caitlyn.”
“Yes. I love her, Ibrahim, but I had to know, especially after Mama told me I knew the man.” He filled him in on the details and watched as his friend’s face lost all color too.
“Your mother must feel a great deal of shame to go to such lengths to keep you and your father apart. I’m sorry for her. She was wrong to negotiate with you for something you had every right to know. The truth isn’t a commodity.”
“And yet she did, and I agreed to it. That’s on me. The only thing is…I love Caitlyn with my heart and soul. I don’t know how to make her trust me again. She said Old Beau got us into this situation, and she’s not wrong.”
“But you’re not Old Beau anymore,” Ibrahim said. “The man sitting in front of me is very different from the man who first arrived. I haven’t explained the keystone in a fragrance yet, have I?”
His heart thudded in his chest. Somehow he knew this wisdom was going to hurt. “No.”
“A keystone is the element that holds a perfume together. Your keystone is truth. It has been since the moment you learned of this betrayal.”
He nodded. “I didn’t think the truth would come at a cost.”
Ibrahim’s pencil-thin smile was sad this time. “You only feel the cost because you haven’t brought Old and New Beau into balance. There’s something we call an azeotropic mixture. This consists of two substances with different volatilities that reach an equilibrium and evaporate as one. When you find that equilibrium inside of yourself, there will be only Beau, not old, not new. Even cataclysmic occurrences, like learning your family’s name, won’t be able to shake who you are.”
Gripping his knees, he stared at the man. “But how do I do that?”
The man smiled at him again as he took out the thick cream paper Beau recognized right away. “I have two more questions for you to answer.”
Beau watched, mesmerized, as the Perfume Jedi wrote something on a sheet and rolled it up. He took it from him.
“You can read that one after you leave the room,” he said, scrawling another note. He rolled it up and handed it to Beau. “This one should be read once you’ve returned to Nashville. If you answer the questions honestly, I think you’ll find your own azeotropic mixture, and as such, the balance you’ve been seeking. Good luck with it, my friend.�
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Beau stood, his palms wrapped around the notes. “Is that it? You don’t want to yell at me? It’s your perfume I’m screwing over too. And the cologne.”
Shaking his head, Ibrahim said, “No one person can ever hinder someone else’s passion unless that person gives up. Caitlyn won’t give up, and neither will I. This perfume will do everything she hopes it will do.”
Beau felt his heart stop at that. Caitlyn wouldn’t give up, and that somehow comforted him. Her perfume would go on. Like his music would. He only wished he could be a part of it all.
More than anything, he wished he could be part of her life.
“I didn’t want it to be like this,” he said. “End like this.”
“Then don’t end it here,” Ibrahim said, flashing him a smile. “Goodbye for now, Beau.”
As he left the lab, the haunting strands of a flamenco guitar filled his ears. Ibrahim must have changed the playlist. A final message? Beau didn’t know. He couldn’t breathe.
The driver was waiting for him, impatience stamped on his round face. Beau lifted his gaze to the second-floor window, the bedroom he’d shared with Caitlyn. They’d stood by that window after making love, arms wrapped around each other, looking out at the moonlit lavender. Pain shot through his heart. How was he supposed to walk away from her?
When he situated himself in the back seat, he realized he’d forgotten to say goodbye to Chou-Chou. “Stop the car.”
The driver punched the gas.
“I said, ‘Stop the car.’”
He jolted forward when the driver braked hard, but Beau barely noticed. He was already out of the car, leaving the door open in his wake. “Chou-Chou!” He kept calling the baby goat’s name, running across the front lawn to the back of the house, tears filling his eyes.