“What is it?”
“Pink panties. I saw it on the specials board and thought it looked like the sort of thing we should drink to celebrate Phoebe’s birthday.” She held her glass up. “To Phoebe, the uniting force, the best girl I could ever know, and the one I’m going to miss for the rest of my days.”
“To Phoebe,” I agreed, reaching across the table to tap my glass against Angel’s. “The love of my life and the reason for the hole in my heart.”
We both took a long sip of our drinks. The cold went straight to my head, and I had to close my eyes while the drink froze my brain.
While I was wincin’, the waiter came over to take our order. Angel got the giggles at my expression and couldn’t place her order either.
Once my brain stopped hurtin’, I ordered my own food. When Angel couldn’t get her laughter under control, I ordered something for her too. The waiter thanked us and took the menus.
“Presumptuous much?” Angel asked as she gathered herself back under control.
“What?”
“Ordering for me.”
“Well, ya weren’t exactly orderin’ for yourself. How long was I supposed to wait?”
She poked her tongue out at me. “You didn’t see your face though. You wouldn’t have been able to hold it together either.”
I straightened my back and grinned at her. “I’ll have ya know I am the picture of poise at all times.”
“Not when I was tickling Phoebe during our first stay in Georgia, and you came charging into the clearing. You were like—” She curled her lips and made a face that was obviously supposed to be a mockery of whatever expression I’d actually worn.
I chuckled at the memory and leaned forward over the table. “I was comin’ to her rescue ’cause I thought she was bein’ attacked! She was screamin’ for you to get off. What was I supposed to think?”
“Still. The look on your face was priceless.”
“The look on Phoebe’s face was pretty precious too,” I said, recalling the deer in the headlights look she’d given before chasin’ me down to correct some assumptions Angel had left me with. Lookin’ back on those days after learnin’ the truth, I could see the reality in our interactions, but at the time, they’d taken on the worst possible meanings in my mind.
“She was so pissed at me for taking her there. She almost reversed straight back out of the driveway when we arrived.”
My mood turned somber. “I ain’t surprised. I was such an asshole to her. If I wasn’t, she mightn’ta ever—”
“Uh-uh.” Angel cut me off and pushed my drink toward me. She looked like she was fightin’ back a snarl. “No being sad, and no bringing up the real arsehole. Only good memories tonight. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Promise.”
“I promise, sweetness.” I took another sip of my drink, takin’ it carefully to avoid another brain freeze. “Only happy memories. And we had a few.”
Angel grinned through her tears. “So many.”
I hopped up to get another drink, choosin’ something different this time. I returned to the table with a pair of Long Island iced teas. Angel didn’t waste any time takin’ a sip. “I prefer my selection.”
“This has more alcohol,” I said.
“Oh, in that case . . . cheers!” She held up her glass to me.
When a server brought out our meals, Angel was in the middle of a story about some high school hijinks. She’d just got to a part where Phoebe had sassed a teacher, and I was laughin’ along with her.
“It’s great seeing two people so in love,” the waitress said with a smile as she placed my meal in front of me.
“We’re not . . . we’re not a couple,” Angel said, shootin’ me an apologetic look—as though she’d somehow done somethin’ to foster that assumption.
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” The waitress flushed. “I just assumed . . . Well, it’s just that you look like you’re having fun together.”
“She’s my best friend,” I said, reachin’ for Angel’s hand.
Angel ducked her head and giggled. Most of her Long Island iced tea was gone, and so it seemed were the remnants of her sobriety.
The waitress glanced between us and nodded. “Enjoy your meal.”
“You too,” Angel said before clamping her hand over her mouth and giggling again.
I leaned forward and slid her food closer to her. “Eat, sweetness. I think ya need to get some food in your belly.”
She stabbed a few fries and brought it to her lips. “The food here is always so good,” she mumbled around the mouthful.
We fell into silence as we ate. Halfway through the meal, I got up to get a couple more drinks—a Long Island iced tea for me and another pink panties for Angel. With the drinks flowing, our conversation started again throughout the rest of our meal, and after we ordered chocolate lava cakes for dessert.
Durin’ the first spoonful, the chocolate took me back to sharin’ desserts with Phoebe. Back to Georgia where we shared a chocolate cake on our picnic date.
“D’ya still wanna wait till this place turns into a nightclub, sweetness?” I asked as Angel licked her spoon clean.
“I wouldn’t mind dancing and lose myself for a few hours. Why?”
“I was thinkin’ maybe we could go home. I ain’t feelin’ this no more.”
“That’s supposed to be the reason we’re out.” She downed the last of her latest drink. “So that you don’t have to feel.”
“We’ve got Fireball at home. They ain’t got it here.”
“You’re not just gonna sit around and dwell if we go home, are you?”
Reachin’ across the table for her hands, I met her eye. “We can have a dance party there if ya want.”
Angel took a moment to consider me, her gaze swept over my eyes and the set of my lips. “Okay, let’s do it!”
It was just before ten when we arrived home. Angel danced through the door and headed straight for the stereo to put some music on. Barely ten seconds had passed when a great sob echoed through the house. I rushed through to find Angel sittin’ on the sofa in a flood of tears.
I gathered her up in my arms, liftin’ her to her feet. “Hey, sweetness, I thought you said no tears.”
She pressed her face against my chest. “I-I didn’t expect . . . I mean . . . The last time I heard this song was with Phoebe.”
“Why don’t ya tell me about it?” I swayed with her in my arms, drawin’ her into a dance and tryin’ ta distract her.
“It was last year. Before she got really sick. You were at a race meet, and we had our own dance party. We just . . . let our hair down and danced. She was so happy and carefree.”
“I loved her smile and the way she lived her life.” I spun us both in a circle. “That was the part of Phoebe I fell in love with hardest. She lost some of that ’round me in the end.”
“You know it wasn’t you, don’t you,” Angel said, folding her arms around my waist.
I rested my cheek on her hair. “Hmm?”
“It wasn’t ever you that she was scared of. Your dick just worked against you.”
I chuckled as we moved in a slow circle. “I know. I tried to never take it personally, even though it was so difficult sometimes.”
“I miss her so much.” Angel sobbed.
“I think that means it’s time to get the Fireball.” I helped Angel to the couch before grabbin’ the Fireball and two glasses.
By the time I returned, Angel had turned on the television and loaded up the slideshow from Phoebe’s funeral. She grabbed the glass of Fireball from me and danced around to the new song that was playin’.
“She was so beautiful,” I said as I took a sip of my own drink while watchin’ the images.
“She really was,” Angel agreed, pausin’ in her dance to stare at the screen.
After crossing the room, I brushed my hand over Phoebe’s cheek on the screen. “Happy birthday, darlin’.” I turned to Angel and offered her my hand. “Let’s da
nce?”
“Sure thing, cowboy.”
For a while, we moved together as the songs shifted from fast to slow and back again.
“Thank you for tonight,” I said as I held her in my arms. “It’s exactly what I needed.”
“You’ve been telling me that a lot lately. If you’re not careful, it might start going to my head.” She glanced up at me. Her gaze dipped to my lips, and her breath caught.
When I met her eyes, my stomach flipped.
Her lips parted, and her hands ran up my back to enclose around my neck.
I dipped my head as if drawn toward her by some magnetic force.
Our breaths quickened, and she licked her lips.
“Beau, I—” She cut off and dropped her hands. Her gaze fell to the floor as she backed away from me. “I think it’s time for bed.”
Droppin’ my arms to my side, I stepped back too. “Yeah.”
I grabbed the bottle of Fireball and took it to my room with me, uncertain what the heck had just almost happened between Angel and me.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: ANNIVERSARY
“BEAU?” ANGEL’S VOICE called to me through the darkness.
It was the end of August, almost six months after Phoebe had passed away, and the day of our weddin’ anniversary. After Phoebe’s birthday, Angel and I had steadfastly ignored the moment that had passed between us. It was easier that way—for both of us—I was sure of it.
“Yeah, sweetness?” I mumbled in reply. Sleep stole the volume from my voice.
“Can I lie with you for a while?”
“Course. What’s up?” I patted the bed to invite her in.
She crawled in beside me. “I-I just can’t sleep. I’ve been thinking of Phoebe all night, and it hurts too much.”
“Yeah.” I didn’t need to tell her that I’d barely slept most nights since Phoebe had passed away.
“I just miss her so much.” Angel shifted until her back was against my front. Then she rested her head on my arm. Her tears fell against my skin, so I wrapped my other arm around her and pulled her closer. “I was going through the girls’ baby books before.”
“It’s four in the mornin’.”
“I told you I couldn’t sleep.”
“Okay, and what were ya lookin’ for?”
She rolled over onto her back and stared at the ceilin’. My gaze found the side of her face and I couldn’t look away.
“Peace,” she said. “I didn’t find it though. At least not completely. The photos we have of Phoebe and the twins are so precious though.”
“Yeah. They are.”
“Looking at them got me thinking about people who don’t have that.”
I was tryin’, and failin’, to keep up with the conversation while half-asleep. “What d’ya mean?”
“People who have loved ones dying and no one to take photos of them. Premature babies in the hospital without someone able to capture their images. Mothers who aren’t as lucky as Phoebe, who don’t get to bring their babies home, and won’t have any memories.”
“Okay. And?”
She rolled again to look at me. “And I was thinking that maybe that’s what I should do.”
“Should do for what?” My eyes sank closed even though I fought to keep them open.
“For work. Rather than the aimless—”
I brushed my fingers over her hair. “I’ve told ya before, sweetness, ya don’t have to work. I can take care of ya.”
“Until when though?”
“Until you’re sick o’ me.”
She closed her eyes, shuttin’ off her feelin’s. “Or until you find someone to replace Phoebe.”
“There ain’t gonna be anyone who can replace Phoebe, so I guess you’re safe.”
Angel opened her eyes. Our faces were inches apart so I could see every emotion in her gaze. “You know that’s not what she’d want for you.”
I shrugged and looked away. “It don’t matter. That’s the fact. I love Phoebe, and I can’t imagine lettin’ anyone else into my heart.”
“You let me into your heart.”
“That’s different, sweetness.” I brushed the hair off her face and ran my hand over her cheek. “You’re . . .” I struggled to find the best word to describe the way she fit into my life. “You’re family.”
“Like a sister?”
I thought back to all the times I’d imagined Phoebe and Angel together. There was nothin’ sisterly about the images my mind had provided back then. “Nah, ya ain’t like a sister. Just family.” I chuckled. “My wife’s wife.”
I stretched out my arm, and she shifted to rest her head on my shoulder.
She chuckled. “What unconventional families have you been dealing with lately?”
“Just ours.”
She gave me a sorrowful smile and took a few deep breaths, no doubt experiencin’ history over. “So does that mean you don’t think I should do it?” she asked after a pause.
My brow dipped. “Do what?”
“The business.”
“Business?” Again I felt lost in the conversation.
“Angel’s Compassion Photography. Specializing in helping memorialize those loved ones who are sick or dying. I can combine my counseling and photography to help people.”
I closed my eyes and imagined her in a hospital, helpin’ mothers of stillborn babies or children of elderly parents close to the end. The photos she’d taken of the girls in their incubators were skillful and sweet. It was almost impossible to see the multitude of wires and tubes that had been such a big part of their early lives. If they’d passed away and I didn’t have those reminders . . . I woulda been lost. I didn’t know how Alyssa and Declan had done it with Phoebe’s twin. “I think it’s a great idea, sweetness. If ya believe it ain’t gonna hurt too much.”
“It’s going to hurt, but the pain is what reminds us to live.”
“Phoebe used to say that,” I murmured, struck through the heart by the reminder.
“Yeah. Do you think it’s true?”
A moment of silence passed between us while I thought of the best way to reply. After Abby, I’d found Phoebe’s words to be a comfort. Now, I couldn’t find any joy in the pain. Couldn’t find anything happy in the loss. “I think it’s as true as we allow it to be.”
“Hmm, Mr. Philosophical.”
“Phoebe called me that once upon a time too.”
She brushed her hand over my cheek. “Well, if you will come out with philosophical statements, you will be labeled.”
I reached up for her hand, drawin’ it into mine and wrappin’ my fingers around hers. Her fingers traced over my wedding band.
“It would’ve been four years today,” she murmured.
With a sigh, I rolled away from her at the reminder of what the day was. “Yeah.”
“Beau, I—” She cut off when the cries of one of the girls carried to us. “It looks like it’s time to get started on the day.”
“I’ll get ’em,” I said, climbin’ out of bed.
Despite my offer, Angel followed me into the nursery. While I saw to Emma, Angel leaned against the wall and watched. “So, have you got a plan for today? I think it’s another one where you shouldn’t stay home all day.”
“Phoebe and I always went to dinner at Madison’s. We had a standin’ bookin’, and I haven’t thought to cancel it.”
Abby started to cry, and Angel lifted her from the crib before carryin’ her to the changing table. “At the risk of overstepping, maybe you should keep it. Go and remember her.”
I shook my head. “I ain’t gonna dine alone. Not tonight.”
“Then take someone else.”
“Like who?”
“The girls?” she suggested, noddin’ toward Abby on the changing table.“Maybe you can make it a new tradition?”
“Will you come with us too?”
She started to shake her head.
“Please?” I asked.
“Are you sure? It’s a day for you and Phoebe.�
�
I placed Emma back into the crib. “You’re a part of the life I shared with Phoebe. It wouldn’t be right to do it without ya.”
“If you’re sure?”
“I’m positive, sweetness.”
After she had agreed to go, I called the restaurant and got them to add two highchairs onto the table.
Once I’d made the arrangements for dinner, I left the girls with Angel so I could watch the next recordin’ from Phoebe. It was marked Wedding Anniversary. I started the recordin’ and watched as Phoebe’s face lit up the screen.
It was clearly from a time close to the end—her cheekbones were pronounced and her face thin. She smiled at me even as tears filled her eyes. “Hi, Beau. I really hope you’re still watching these videos. For all I know, you might’ve forgotten about me already, and I’m just talkin’ to myself on camera for no reason. I hope you have kept it up though, because I know I would cling to every memory of you if this were reversed. Of course, I might also hate you for leaving me. I have no idea how many months it’s been for you since I died, but I wanted to record something special for today. I’m hoping it’s enough that the pain has dulled, at least a little.”
I wasn’t sure the pain would ever dull, but I couldn’t tell her that. Not no more.
She gave me a cheeky grin. “I guess one good thing is that I don’t have to find you a present made out of silk. Do you know how hard it is trying to find silk gifts for men who don’t wear ties?”
I buried my head in my hands, wonderin’ how she could joke about somethin’ like that. It was only when I glanced back at the screen and saw the pain hidden behind her smile that I saw it was a copin’ mechanism—just like the jokes she’d made while she was still strugglin’ to accept the truth.
“I can’t get the girls off my mind,” she continued. “I hope they’re growing up strong. They’ll be over six months old by now for you. I hope they understand why I can’t be there, even though I want it more than anything else. I can’t believe I won’t even see their first year, but I know I won’t, Beau. I doubt I’ve even got more than a few weeks left. I can’t tell you any of this of course, or couldn’t back when I’m recording this. I didn’t want you to know how hard it was to breathe, and how difficult every day was, but you took me on my bike again today, and I don’t think I was able to thank you enough for that. It was so perfect, feeling the wind on my face again, and the freedom of the road—even if it was just for a few minutes. Don’t ever lose that sweetness you possess, Beau. Don’t hide it from the world and let it fester into bitterness. Live. Love. You are too giving to hide away. I guess what I’m trying to say is you’ve given me more than three years of wedded bliss, and eventually I want you to find someone else that you can share that with again. Until you do though, know that I loved you so fiercely. Know that your love helped me to hold on for every day of this battle. If it weren’t for you, I would’ve rolled and given up over the day the doctor’s told me there wasn’t anything more they could do. You, Angel, and my family make every day of fighting worthwhile. Thank you for being there. I hope you haven’t come to hate me for leaving you widowed and raising the girls alone.”
Beacon (Phoebe Reede: The Untold Story Book 6) Page 17