9. The Masterpiece, Dash

The welcoming and relaxed comfort of Beau's old neighbors also applied to the ones he'd never met. The people who'd bought his parents' house years ago allowed us to sit on his former boat dock late into the evening. The homeowners went so far as to bring out a space heater to help ameliorate the chill in the air so we'd be more comfortable.

Scott, Lauren, and Katie joined us. Katie arrived about an hour after we did. I sat to the side, keenly watching Beau's expressions. The tension which I'd believe was his resting face most recently had begun to soften. In its place was a man who thoroughly enjoyed reminiscing over the shared times with his friends.

I found myself unusually quiet, rare indeed for a man who had an opinion on everything. Although Beau and I showed no outward signs that we were a couple, the implication of an us was clear. A moment to celebrate. We had gotten so much further than I'd expected in such a short time.

Maybe my inner peace was thanks to the cozy jacket snugly hugging me tight. It belonged to Beau, who'd kindly shrugged it off once the chill creeped into the night air. His captivating scent wove through every fiber of the cloth. A smell that touched the deepest part of who I was. It settled the churn constantly rolling through my head.

I was proud of his friends. No one asked more of Beau than he was willing to give. Especially about me. He only explained that he had discovered he didn't want to hide after meeting me in Sea Springs and about the way his father rode in and ruined everything.

It felt good to watch him be honest with his friends and himself. The sarcasm he used with me was now gone too. Tiny bits of love began to peek through his now cracking barriers.

After a ton of conditions were issued by Beau, for example my commitment to be the DD tonight, or my promise to slow him down if anything he did looked out of control, he accepted a cold beer from Scott's case of Bud Light. The alcohol loosened him up and staved off some of the darkness that got in his way. A true beer drinker was born. He had enough to get tipsy, maybe drunk, but not to a concerning level.

"I'm out of here. I stayed longer than I planned," Katie said, abruptly standing. "I've gotta ace a finance exam tomorrow then we're diving headfirst into the wedding plans…" She beamed down at Lauren.

"It was great to see you," Beau said and rose. Even on her tiptoes, he still had to bend to accept her hug. His unsteadiness had him gripping a support beam to stay on his feet.

"Let me walk you to your car," I offered, unwinding from Beau's jacket. "The big guy over there would probably volunteer, but he may not be the best guide with the way those big feet are stumbling. We can't risk his pretty face getting scratched up before the pictures on Wednesday."

"I've got this," Beau insisted then proved my point as he tripped over his feet and had to grab the bench to stay upright. The way he beamed at me proved Beau was a happy drunk.

"Bachelor party tomorrow night," Scott called out spontaneously giving a solid whoop while lifting the beer. He'd definitely had a lot to drink.

"I promise, Scott never drinks this much. I think he's nervous," Lauren explained to me, but Scott was also a happy drunk and wrapped both arms around her, drawing her closer to his side. The can of beer in his hand sloshed onto the fleece blanket wrapped around her. His face nuzzled in her neck.

"I'm not nervous, I'm happy. I got the best girl in the world, gonna be my wife."

"I can get to my car," Katie said to me, stepping off onto the trail in the grass. "I've made the trip a hundred times."

"It's no problem." I followed, sure to make my etiquette instructor proud. I tucked my fists in Beau's coat pockets, fine to walk the entire way in silence. Probably even better that way. Who wanted to try to answer questions Beau might not like?

"It's good to see him smiling again," Katie said, once out of earshot of the others. "Are you good?"

"Sure," I said, puzzled by the odd question. "I haven't spent a lot of time in the countryside…"

"That's not what I meant," she said, slowing her steps but not stopping. "He's been through so much, and you two are very different people."

Maybe it was her approach because I certainly didn't allow anyone to trample on my and Beau's future, but I actually let her words simmer. Honestly, I never felt like Beau and I were that different—only on the surface. The minor aesthetics that didn't matter.

"We used to be more in sync than now, but I'm crazy about him. None of that's changed. I've been patient. I knew it was bad for him, but he used to be so strong willed. I thought he could handle…" I stopped dead in my tracks, my gaze colliding with Katie's. "I didn't mean it the way that might have sounded. He was always nervous about his father. When we were in Sea Springs, he didn't mind his absence…"

"It's okay. I get it," she said, lifting a hand. "We've all thought the same thing. Beau never cowed as a kid. It was easier to believe he'd become an elitist than to believe anything else. We had no idea what he was living through." She was several feet away by now, opening the gate before I could bring myself to move again.

"I didn't mean he wasn't strong enough to resist his father. I meant his father must have been severely abusive to get past Beau's own strength of will."

"It's all good. I asked more from the perspective of how different you two are. You're preppy and he's jock-country. He's been knocking heads all his life, whether he wanted to or not. I'm not sure he understands life outside of football. People seriously talk about him being drafted into the NFL. His mom was the one who pushed his education," she said. I let the gate swing shut behind me. "Sorry for rambling."

"Not rambling," I said, my hands fisting into my pockets. Still very much mentally obsessing over what I'd almost let slip. "Can I request you not say anything about him and me until we leave Thursday morning?" Apparently, her directness encouraged my own.

"Absolutely, but the people around here live a simple life. They work, get married, have a pack of children. They're gonna see the way you two seek each other out and give those sly looks, him more than you." She pointed her finger at me then over toward the dock. "Then when you look at each other…" An expression of pure contentment sent her eyes skyward. Her hand covered her heart. "It's the sweetest thing ever."

What? No. "I've been doing my best to keep from appearing overly affectionate."

She giggled as if I'd said the words in jest. She was way off base. I was becoming a trained attorney after all. I knew a poker face firsthand.

A sudden slam of the gate drew our attention in that direction.

The shadow of a yeti stalked toward us. Luckily though, I didn't have to test my oath of protection to Katie. It was Beau stumbling toward our car.

"Lauren's tired," Beau stated entirely too loud. "You're drivin'. Come on. Bye, Katie."

"He's funny," she said and started around her car to the driver's seat.

I hadn't made it to the actual door with Katie, but felt like I'd done my duty, and started for my guy.

Beau beckoned. I had no choice but to follow.

I saw a nap in my future.

In the foot and a half of space I'd been allotted on the mattress, I propped up against the headboard with a coursebook in my lap. My gritty eyes felt like sandpaper from lack of any real sleep.

I faced my own challenges with Beau's reemergence into my life. Learning how to adapt to having someone with me twenty-four seven. I realized how much time I spent alone, how I'd isolated myself while waiting for Beau's return. I had a solitary existence. Chandler had only moved in with me about a year ago. That was when I began spending most of my time in my bedroom.

I hadn't adequately prepared myself for constant companionship. A flaw in my plans.

Apart from that, a drunk Beau snored like a bear. Anytime I managed to nudge him to his side, he tumbled backward, stretching out, claiming more space each time.

Another problem, Beau apparently liked to cuddle, scooping me up around him. Those heavy, stale alcohol breaths blowing down on me…really foul smelling.

Yeah, I had my own adjustment struggles to get past.

I ran my fingers through my hair out of pure frustration. I watched the alarm clock change from six fifty-nine to seven o'clock in the morning. The resulting beep was frequent and loud. Beau didn't move a muscle. I pressed snooze for the sixth time. Now choices had to be made.

In this part of the world, they'd consider Beau to be sleeping in. I personally felt like it was the butt crack of dawn. Did I wake him? He'd committed to helping Scott's family prepare the house and backyard for the wedding. He planned to spend the next thirty-six hours with Scott. Set up the venue, shop for clothes, bachelor party, final setup then the wedding.

They did extend me an invitation, but I declined. Beau didn't need the added mental anxiety of explaining me to the rest of their schoolmates. Which allowed for the nap I wanted to take, and the studying I had to do to prepare for my exam.

So, do I wake him?

As if the answer was sent from above, Beau rolled into my side, pushing one leg off the bed, the other wrapped into his body like a soft body pillow. My hip bumped against the end table.

"Beau," I said loudly. "The alarm went off." My palm ran the length of his hair, gently trying to wake him. Nothing happened.

"Wake up, Beau," I said more firmly, with a pat of my hand on his cheek. He didn't move.

"Beau!" I hollered, and used force with my hand, knocking his head away from my hip. His eyes squinted a crack, only for him to roll over again. Me and my textbook were knocked to the floor. He stretched out across the mattress as I was picking myself up.

"Get up, Beau!"

His eyes opened slightly wider than before. The confusion was real. "Why?" he croaked and moved his tongue around his mouth, searching for saliva. "Are you on the floor? Why does my mouth taste so bad?" He flipped away from me, landing face down on a pillow.

"I believe you when you say you weren't a drinker." I reached for the book, examining how it fared from the drop.

"I feel so bad. They were talkin' about swine flu yesterday…" he groaned.

"It's not swine flu. It's a hangover, and you have one," I explained patiently.

Since pajamas were a requirement in this house, I'd been in and out of the room all night, concocting the perfect hangover elixir. Well, Google and I together perfected the drink. My masterpiece sat chilling in the refrigerator, the direction I was currently heading.

My brainchild consisted of three parts blue Powerade for hydration, two raw eggs to soothe his stomach and help with a headache, ground ibuprofen for general body aches, and a decent size spoonful of instant coffee. I added a good portion of honey because I learned it fixed everything. Those last two ingredients were reported to help boost energy.

If all went well with my test case—namely Beau this morning—I planned to mass produce the drink to help make the world a better place.

Maybe I'd use dried ingredients to make the drink easier to tote around.

"Good morning," Beau's mom said, standing in front of the Keurig. "My son can snore. I had no idea."

"I think his body mass gets bigger after he drinks. He took up the entire bed," I said, reaching in for my magic potion. "I whipped up a special drink last night to help him out." I winked mischievously, keeping my potion's ingredients hush-hush for proprietary reasons.

I shook the closed bottle to help redistribute the eggs.

"I'm leaving soon. Are you going to be here today?"

"I am, I guess, but it's hard to know." After the countless mini disagreements Beau and I had on pretty much everything, she and I both knew if Beau wanted my help today, he'd get it.

I kept the bottle shaking as I entered the bedroom. Beau's eyes were open, even if he had only turned to his back. "I really think I've picked up a bug or something. If my dad felt this way every mornin', he'd have never continued drinkin'. Fuck, I feel bad."

"Here, drink this," I said, coming to the edge of the bed, giving a reassuring nod that hopefully expressed the benefit of what I held in my hands. Beau managed to lift his body, looking skeptically at the Powerade bottle.

"My stomach hurts," he said and slowly rose, pushing his back against the headboard. "I don't know if I should go today. I think I picked up somethin'. Probably at Lowes."

I'd never known anyone to hang on to the idea it wasn't a hangover for so long. And Beau wasn't teasing, which had to mean he'd stayed away from the liquor. His father must have truly been in bad shape. I took a seat and unscrewed the top. "It's a hydration drink with a few health boosting additives inside. Try it."

I took a sniff. It actually smelled pretty good. Encouraged, I passed it to him and reached for the water bottle on the nightstand. I had it ready to go. Per Google's instructions, Beau had to drink both in intervals.

Beau's skepticism became reluctance after he took a good whiff.

"No, you're smelling your own breath," I said. "It's Powerade. You know the importance of hydration. Drink it. Take a few gulps then drink the water. Scott's waiting."

Beau scrunched his face and squeezed his eyes closed, downing two long gulps. "Not too fast. You have to drink the water too."

Half a second later, his eyes popped open. He gave a solid heave.

I cringed. I hadn't anticipated such an immediate negative reaction. Beau scooted clumsily off the bed, giving a second, much louder heave.

"What's in that?" Beau's stomach gave an audible, violent sound as he heaved, and darted out of the room, running down the hall.

"Beau," his mom called.

"Move, Mom!"

With a furrowed brow of disappointment, I reached for the Powerade bottle. A longer smell of the contents had me pulling away. I got a healthy dose of the raw eggs that time. Apparently, I needed to go back in front of the drawing board if my creation was going to be the next best thing. Too bad. I wasn't throwing in the towel just yet. The drink made sense. Beau was loud in the bathroom. If the drink made that happen regularly, people wouldn't use it more than once. I'd figure it out.