Giving It Up: Pushing the Boundaries, Book 1 (19 page)

Chapter Twenty-One

“Thank you for filling in on short notice again, Beatrice.” Michelle locked the door behind the last client of the night and turned to Beatrice, who was already unlacing the gauntlets Michelle had lent her.

“It was no problem. I didn’t have anything else planned for tonight, so your call was welcome.”

Very welcome, in fact. After Tenny had accepted her for a four-month run in his gallery, starting in a month, she’d been so excited she’d spent the rest of Monday night trying to decide which works she would display. That had managed to keep her busy through the next night too, but then Wednesday morning had come, and she’d found herself faltering.

This was the first Wednesday after she’d last seen Warren, and she had suffered through the day, holding out hope he would show up at her door after all, while at the same time counting the minutes until it was over and she could put him out of her mind for another week. She had dreaded going home after work, too afraid she’d end up drinking alone and crying herself to sleep.

Okay, maybe not that bad. But there would definitely have been crying. And maybe a little drinking.

Fine, it was bad.

As it was, Michelle had called shortly before five o’clock that afternoon, and Beatrice had gratefully spent the past few hours assisting Mistress Michelle in various scenes at Queen Dommes. Again, most of her participation was just observing, since she hadn’t been through training yet, but she’d gotten a crash course in how to wield a flogger, even if had been for effect only. She hadn’t actually used it on the client.

Still…the whole time it had been impossible not to think about Warren. She’d been distracted despite her best efforts. Not as engaged as she should have been.

“You did well again tonight, though you seemed a bit…down. Is everything okay?”

Beatrice sighed. “I don’t know. Honestly, I’m so confused.”

Michelle gave her a serious look. “Does this have anything to do with the man you originally came here for?”

She nodded, not bothering to pretend otherwise. “Our arrangement is over.”

“And you don’t want it to be.”

“No. I don’t.”

“Have you told him that?”

“Yes. But he didn’t think it was a good idea. He thinks I’ll end up unhappy and leave him. But I won’t. If he could only see that, I know I could
make
him see if—”

“Lesson number one, Beatrice. Control is just an illusion.”

Beatrice dropped her head. “I know. You’re right. But I—God, I love him so much.”

Michelle reached out and patted Beatrice on the shoulder. “Look. Go home and get some sleep. If he eventually realizes being with you is better for him, he’ll come back. But you cannot force him into it. That would leave your relationship imbalanced, and then you’d be worse off than if you had nothing. Balance is critical, Beatrice. In everything.”

Michelle was right, but it didn’t hurt any less. If anything, in the days since she’d last seen him, the hurt had gotten even worse. But there was nothing Beatrice could do about it now. She’d tried, more than once, to make him see what she felt and how good they would be together, but she couldn’t force him to understand.

Control was just an illusion.

She changed and headed out of Queen Dommes, taking the opportunity to check her messages while waiting for the bus. It was a surprise to find a voicemail from Nina, who had been buried under work for so long since returning from her honeymoon that Beatrice had almost forgotten what her friend’s voice sounded like.

“Beatrice, Ben and I are caught up and have some free time! Finally, right? We had a great honeymoon in Africa and want to share all about the trip, but mostly we’ve really missed you guys. We’re planning a little barbeque this weekend for the crew. Can you come? Saturday at two-ish. Let me know.”

For the crew? That meant Warren would probably be there, unless he thought the same thing and was going to avoid her.

She texted Nina right away.
Got your message! I’ll be there on Saturday. Can I bring anything?

She wasn’t going to back down from her life.

* * * * *

“You’ve been out here a while.”

At the sound of his dad’s voice, Warren looked up from where he was sitting in a lawn chair on the back porch to see the older man stepping out of the house.

Warren jumped up immediately. “Dad, hey. Let me help you. Do you want to come sit down? I can—”

“Settle down, son.” His father put out a hand, stopping Warren from reaching out to help guide Dad to a chair. “I’m fine.”

Warren got the message.
Back off.
Fair enough. He understood a man needed a little space now and then, and they had been hovering over his dad a lot lately. But that didn’t stop Warren from remaining standing, ready to help if needed.

Dad finally sank into a chair and let out a rough laugh. “This is probably the closest I’ve come to a Friday night party in a long time. Never thought I’d be grateful for something so small as the ability to walk across my own damned porch.”

Neither did I.
Warren nodded, then returned to his own chair, next to where Dad was sitting. “Did you have a doctor’s visit today?”

But Dad
pffed
and waved his hand in the air, ignoring Warren’s question. “You didn’t go out this past Wednesday.”

The Wednesday that was supposed to have been his fifth and final one with Beatrice. He hadn’t gone because he wouldn’t have been welcome.

Even though he’d wanted to. Not even for the sex. To see her and hold her one last time. He’d wanted to, but he’d known that if he’d shown up on her doorstep, it would have meant more than he could give. He’d already made that decision. Made it clear.

And he didn’t feel like talking about it. Not the thing that was slowly ripping him apart inside. He’d fucking
cried
when he’d been with her. He was coming undone, and it was taking everything he had not to crumble completely.

He shook his head. “Nope.”

Dad
humphed
and turned his head to stare at his son with the same intense blue gaze that everyone said Warren had, too. That was the look Dad had always had when Warren and Kelly were kids and had done something wrong and were about to be punished.

It still meant something ominous.

Warren shifted uncomfortably.

“Is it my fault?”

Dad’s words were so unexpected that Warren blinked, wondering for a second whether he’d imagined it. “Is it—what are you talking about?”

His father leaned back in the chair, and Warren breathed a sigh of relief he wasn’t being pinned with that heavy stare anymore.

“I’m talking about you and Beatrice. How you fucked it all up with her.”

Go ahead and make it hurt a little more, Dad.

“I’m wondering if that’s my fault.”

Warren shook his head, confused. “How would it be your fault?”

Neither man commented on the fact that Warren hadn’t denied he’d fucked it up.

Dad looked out at the backyard, but it was obvious he wasn’t fascinated with the peeling paint on the shed. “By being a bad example. Not teaching you how to be in love, I guess.”

“You weren’t a bad example. Still aren’t.” He tried to keep his reply short, to end the conversation.

But he didn’t deny he was in love, either.

“Then how come you’re so afraid of being with her?” Dad looked at him again, and this time, his eyes were sad. Pitying.

Damn it.

“I’m not afraid. I can’t give her what she wants, that’s all.”

Keep telling yourself that, buddy.

He scowled at himself. He shouldn’t be doubting his own reasoning. It was true, after all. It
had
to be true, or it would mean he’d thrown away the greatest gift he’d ever received.

His dad cleared his throat. “I, uh, I know that it hurt when Jen left.” He twisted his fingers together. “That was a tough time for everyone. But you weren’t even a fraction as in love with Jen as you are with Beatrice. What left you smarting from that was you felt like you had to go it alone, like you couldn’t depend on anyone, but you ended up using that as a shield not to let anyone get close. Because you’re so damned afraid that when you turn to them for support, they’ll let you fall.”

Dad leaned forward. “I don’t know how you got involved with Beatrice, but what you don’t seem to realize is she has been letting you lean on her for a while now. But now you’ve gone and kicked the support right out from under you and you don’t even see that pretty soon you’re gonna fall all on your own, anyway.”

Had
he already come to depend on her? He missed her. He wanted her. He hadn’t been the same since he’d let her get on that bus on Sunday afternoon.

Next to him, his dad gave a wry laugh. “You’ve spent so long convincing yourself you’re the only one who can take of everyone else that you’ve forgotten to let someone take care of you. But asking for help is as much a part of being a man as taking it. Sometimes you don’t realize that until you’re old and worn out like me.”

Warren started to protest, but Dad held up a hand, silencing him. “Quit trying to control everything, son. For once, let go and accept that other people might love you as much as you love them.”

If Beatrice loved him as much as he loved her…

But how could she? He’d driven her away. He’d be surprised if she even looked at him again. Besides, she deserved better than anything he could give her. Asking her to care for him would be selfish.

But he didn’t want to disappoint his father. So he nodded. “I’ll think about it.”

Dad smacked the arm of the chair and smiled. “Good. Now come on, give your old man a hand standing up and let’s go inside.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

“Beatrice is here.” Brewer nodded over Warren’s shoulder to the open front door, and Warren tensed, praying he’d be able to make it through this fucking barbeque without falling at her feet and begging her to take him back.

That wouldn’t do either of them any good.

He’d arrived at Ben and Nina’s half an hour ago, both relieved and disappointed when he’d realized Beatrice wasn’t there. But now he could feel her eyes on his back, and for a second he thought about never turning around, about pretending the whole thing never happened. But it was only for a second.

The truth was, he couldn’t resist her. She had his heart.

That was what made it impossible for them to be together. It didn’t matter what Dad said about him needing to let go of Jen, and how she’d left when things got tough. That was exactly why he shouldn’t let go—he should never forget how easily things like love could be taken away. And he loved Beatrice like he’d never loved Jen. A handful of weeks together, and he was already depending on her for support, like Dad had said.

He knew now that it wasn’t about time. He got it. His entire family had started doing more around the house and taking on a lot of the responsibility he’d shouldered for the past few years, almost like they were banding together against him, to make him go to Beatrice and ask her to be with him.

But he wasn’t going to do it. Because the day she realized she deserved better than him and left…

That would be the end of him.

He took a deep breath. And turned.

Beatrice.

It had been nearly one week since he’d seen her, and somehow she’d grown even more beautiful in that time.

It fucking
killed
him to look at her.

But he did it. He forced himself to meet her eyes and give a jerky nod. “Hey.”

She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders.
That’s my girl.
Strong and confident and so sexy. “Hey.”

Nina came over, laughing. “Wow, what a greeting. Glad to see you haven’t changed, Davis.” She hugged Beatrice. “And I’m so glad you came! Come on, I’ll get you something to drink.”

They headed into the kitchen without another glance at him, leaving him reeling. He hadn’t changed? If Nina only knew. If any of them knew what had happened to him. How
much
he’d changed.

Then why are you still alone and unhappy, wishing Beatrice would be with you?

Because it’s the right thing for everyone.

Donahue sidled up next to him. “Wow. I knew you had it bad, but I didn’t realize it was like that. You fucked it up, didn’t you? I could have called that.” He laughed, a mean sound. “In fact, I think I did.”

“Fuck you, Donahue.”

“Wait. You guys are over?” Brewer asked way too loudly.

Warren stalked off, leaving them both behind to talk in hushed voices like gossipy old men. Fuck them. And fuck this ridiculously big house that meant he could avoid Beatrice for the next hour without looking like he was trying to avoid her.

He headed into the hall that adjoined the living room, looking for a place to hide.

Goddamn, he was messed up.

“Hey, everyone! Beatrice brought our wedding photos!” Nina came out of the kitchen holding some piece of camera equipment. “Come look!”

Beatrice appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, lagging a bit behind Nina and looking like she’d tried to protest, but Nina was already heading back into the living room to set up a photo slide show, it seemed. He hung back a bit, trying to keep Beatrice from seeing him, but then she turned and their eyes met, and he couldn’t stop himself.

“Beatrice,” he whispered.

God, she was beautiful. She was beautiful all the time, but especially when she got that
glow
, when it looked like all the pleasure in the world was gathered in her eyes…damn. She had that glow right now. Did that mean she was happy to see him?

She opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, Ben was shouting through the house. “Davis! Hey, get your ass in here and see these photos!”

The moment was gone. Beatrice slipped into the living room, Warren coming right up behind her, staring at the slide show as it started up on Ben and Nina’s enormous TV. Nina loved to roll her eyes and rib Ben about having such a ridiculous piece of electronics in their house, but she admitted she loved it too, for screening her shows.

It seemed like they were once again getting flack for it, because Nina was shaking her head and saying, “It’s so vain to watch my own work, I know, but I love to review my guests’ facial expressions in detail to try to get better at how I interview them.”

“You’re a workaholic, babe,” Ben told her, dropping a kiss on her shoulder. “I still can’t believe I got you to agree to a four-week honeymoon.”

They were so in love it nearly made Warren sick.

Nina grabbed a small remote and made the photos fill the screen as they scrolled through.

Everyone oohed over the first image, a full-length shot of Nina in her wedding dress, standing on a staircase. They went through a bunch of pictures of the bride and groom, Nina’s father, the wedding itself and some of the reception. Everyone laughed at a picture of Brewer and Donahue, clowning for the camera, the police chief making a face behind them both.

But then, at the next image, the room grew silent. Warren froze.

Holy. Shit.

It was a photo of him, leaning against one of the ballroom walls. Beatrice must have snapped it at some point near the end of the reception, when the dances were getting wilder and the guests were practically spinning out of control. His head was tipped back, eyes closed, face relaxed almost like he was sleeping, and she’d captured something in him that even he didn’t recognize. Like she’d reached deep inside of him and pulled out something incredible.

She made him feel incredible.

For a long moment, no one spoke. Just stared.

Finally, Nina breathed out an amazed, “Wow. Beatrice, really. This belongs in a museum. Or a gallery. All of your photos do.” Then she turned to Warren and laughed, “And I never realized how handsome you are, Davis.”

“Hey!” Ben poked her in the ribs, and Nina grinned.

“I was complimenting Beatrice’s photography skills, of course.”

“True. She’s pretty spectacular if she can make even you look good,” Donahue teased.

Warren was scowling. He shrugged. “It’s nothing special,” he bit out.

He’d meant
he
wasn’t anything special, but Beatrice must have thought she was talking about her photo, because she gasped—a small, hurt sound—and before he could stop her, she ran out of the room.

Fuck.

“You’re a real dick, Davis.” Donahue was looking at him in disapproval. Donahue. Fucking couldn’t-keep-a-woman-longer-than-a-day Donahue disapproved of him.

Goddamn it.

He was. He was terrible when it came to her. But for chrissake, why couldn’t anyone see she
owned
him? He belonged to her, completely. And that’s why he had to stay away from her. Except somehow he’d managed to sabotage himself. Now, he’d made it so that he had to seek her out and apologize.

“I’ll go after her.” He strode out of the room, going in search of his greatest weakness.