EMMA
Legs tucked beneath my body on the sofa, I scan my latest manuscript, too preoccupied with Beau's grumbling in the kitchen to absorb any of the words in front of me.
A couple of loud bangs and clangs later and I've lost any shred of concentration I might have had to start off with.
Placing the pages aside, I make my way into the kitchen for a better look, popping myself onto the island so that I can watch Beau work on our refrigerator.
We've been lucky so far, not needing to replace anything in the lake house yet. That is, until our fridge gave out on us overnight, leaving us to find soiled milk and meat this morning, the smell already stinking up the house.
"Fuck!" Beau mutters, a loud, metallic, ringing sound accompanying the curse.
I let a laugh escape me and soon enough, the mussed dark hair comes from behind the appliance, a famous Beau scowl over his face.
"Something funny, Em?" He raises a brow, wiping an oily hand across his forehead and leaving a dark stain over his tan skin.
"You, fixing a fridge." I shrug, holding out my arms for a hug. Beau leans in, careful not to stain my clothes, and I continue tentatively, "It's very funny. Why don't we just call someone? There are guys that do this all day, you know. They'd know what's wrong."
Just like that, Beau lets me go, a stubborn frown on his lips, his tone exasperated, frustrated even, but still playful. "I don't need help fixing the damn fridge, Emma. Maybe what I need is some peace and quiet-"
A rush of wind gusts through the front entryway and into the kitchen, ruffling untouched instruction manuals across the island as Maggie storms inside, swinging the door so hard into the wall that the slam vibrates through the floorboards. I jump in place, locking eyes with Beau immediately.
"Mags?" He calls.
I rush into the living room, my voice competing with his. "Maggie?"
Instead of facing us, she continues stomping up the stairs, her heavy, black boots making the sound echo even louder. We follow to the bottom of the stairs, and for what seems like the millionth time this week, I am struck at how grown up she's looking.
And how moody she's being.
"Hey, Mags!" Beau shouts, patience already running thin today because our kitchen appliance is getting the better of him. "We're talking to you."
Reluctantly, Maggie pivots on her foot at the top of the stairs, turning to face us with her jaw set defiantly and lips pursed. I'd bet any money that she rolled her eyes before turning around, one of Beau's habits I'd have preferred she didn't learn but was ultimately inevitable.
"What?" Her voice is as sour as her pinched expression, the dark liner too heavy around her light green eyes, but somehow still not as deeply black as her hair, hanging in front of her face.
"Well, Christ, Mags." Beau leans against the banister, tucking a dirty rag into his back pocket. "Are you okay?"
Maggie's eyes drift towards the ceiling and it's work to suppress a smirk. Beau hates it when she rolls her eyes at him, the irony completely lost on him. I hate it too, but it's always comical to watch Beau arguing with himself, even if in the form of a teenage girl.
"What do you mean, Dad?"
Incredulously, Beau raises his eyebrows at our daughter. "What do you mean, what do I mean? You just shook the whole damn house, what're you pissed off about?"
"Language," I murmur, touching his elbow gently.
Maggie's lips press tighter together, her eyes getting a bit glassy. My foot finds the first step instinctually before her voice halts me in my tracks, harsh and totally transparent.
"Nothing. I'm fine." She stares down at us, the seconds audibly ticking by from our wall clock in the living room.
The thing Maggie has not yet realized is that if she is stubborn, her father is bullheaded. It's a war of the wills, and neither one of them likes to be the one to let up first, especially not lately.
"Well, if it's nothing," Beau's voice stays, as it always does when he speaks to Maggie, frustratingly calm. "Then why'd you shake the whole house? And what's with the attitude?"
She only stares at him, her brows crumpled together like there's no way anyone could ever understand her strife. I suppose seventeen is like that. But Beau is always so patient, maybe because no one ever was with him.
And soon enough, as he always does, he waits her out.
"Fine. Okay." Another eye roll. She throws her hands in the air, "Seth broke up with me. Are you happy now? Can I go?"
"Seth what?" I gasp, unable to stop myself from propelling my body up the rest of the stairs.
"Happy?" Beau snaps, the irritation he's been keeping at bay all afternoon finally boiling over. "That little asshole!"
"Beau, language!" I shoot him a look and place both hands on Maggie's shoulders. "Are you okay, hon? What happened?"
In a swift motion that makes my heart ache, my little girl shrugs me off and shakes her head. "I don't want to talk about it. Can I just go get my stuff? Luna's waiting."
Feeling as though I've been slapped, but understanding what it was like to be seventeen and feel like the whole world doesn't know a thing, I let her go.
"Yeah, go ahead."
Maggie's back is already to me as she walks the hallway to her bedroom when Beau reaches the landing beside me, halting her with his voice.
"Hey, Mags?"
Throwing her head back over her shoulder, Maggie lets out a deep sigh, "Yes, Dad?"
"You are okay, though, right?"
She tries to hide it, but beneath her well crafted scowl is a hint of a smile for Beau.
"Yeah, Dad." She grins, lips tight. "I'm fine."
"Okay," Beau replies, but her door is already swinging closed with another huge slam. "Mags!"
"It's not my fault, Dad!" We hear through the door, "Seth is the fucking asshole!"
Eyes wider than saucers, Beau and I snap at the same time. "Language!"
"Sorry!" But her tone doesn't sound it.
"Come on," I tug at Beau's forearm finally, "Just give her space for now."
I lead us down the staircase, Beau looking over his shoulder the entire time, a pained expression over his face. When we're seated on the couch, he runs a hand over his hair, his brows crinkled together like Maggie's just were.
"Who does Seth think he is, the prick?"
"Beau-"
"No, I'm serious, Emma. He broke up with Maggie? I-"
"Beau." I cup his face between my hands. "Try to breathe. It's just life, we can't prevent every bad thing from happening to her, no matter how much we might want to."
Beau places his palm over my hand and groans, leaning into my touch and staring up at me with sad eyes.
"But Seth?"
With a sigh, I tuck myself under his arm and click on the TV.
"I know," I sigh, bringing the scrawny, acne-ridden teenager to mind. God, I want to shake him back and forth for making Maggie sad, just keep shaking him until he's gotten some sense. "But the heart wants what it wants, right?"
I should know.
I peer up at Beau and find a soft smile over his lips. Leaning in close, I'm just tasting his grin when footsteps that sound like thunderclaps signify Maggie coming back down.
"Ew." She grunts, eliciting a long sigh from Beau when we pull apart.
"When will you be home?" He leans his head back against the couch cushion to meet her stare.
"I'm sleeping at Luna's." She offers the tiniest wave before heading out, calling over her shoulder in a tone that only sounds half-joking, "We're going to get tattoos!"
"Maggie!" Beau shouts, jumping to his feet. He rushes forward and for the third time, Maggie slams the door closed. "Dammit, Mags!"
"Beau," I call him back to me, shaking my head slowly. Glaring at the door and then gazing at me, he decides to rejoin me on the couch. "Look, even if she's serious, they probably won't find a place that'll really give them tattoo-"
The door opens again, softer this time, and both of our heads pop up.
Brushing dark hair from her eyes, Maggie offers us a sheepish smile, for just a second, looking like she's five years old again.
"Sorry for slamming the door." She looks down at her boots and then back up at us again. "Love you guys."
"We love you too." I reply immediately, hanging onto the small moments that remind me of when she used to curl up in my lap, her favorite place in the world. Well, besides Beau's lap. I can still feel the softness of her cheeks against my fingertips, the curl of her baby fine hair.
And right now, watching her heading to her best friend's house for a sleepover to get over a boy who made her sad, well, I'm hurting too. Just like I did any time she fell off her bike or skinned a knee.
"Love you, kiddo." Beau nods. "Be safe. No tattoos."
With a dismissive chuckle that is so familiar it must kill him, Maggie shakes her head, "No tattoos, yeah, okay. Look who's talking."
Beau's mouth is left hanging open as she leaves before he can reply, again.
Maybe it should bother me more, her attitude. But she's a good kid and she never gives us any trouble. She's just got too much Beau in her to not be sassy.
Running long fingers over his eyes, Beau lets out another exhausted groan.
"She's killing me these days, Emma, I swear."
"Oh, stop." I laugh, running my fingers through his hair, due for a trim one of these days.
"I'm serious, Em. What happened to little Mags? She was so... happy and easy. Now she's always angry or being difficult."
At that, the giggles just bubble out of me, too much to contain. Beau eyes me like I'm crazy, his brows knitted together, head cocked to the side.
"What?"
"Nothing," I shake my head, kissing him on the cheek and reaching for my pages to get some work done.
"No," Beau snatches the manuscript before I can, holding it well above my head. "Tell me."
I reach, stumbling into his chest before I give up, happily wrapping my arms around his waist instead. Looking up at him, I smirk, "Angry and difficult... That doesn't remind you of anyone?"
A look of mock betrayal on his face, Beau nods and tosses my manuscript down onto the table. "Fine, I see how it is." He runs his hands over his hair and retrieves the oily rag from his back pocket, heading back into the kitchen. Sticking his head around the corner to give me a hint of a smile, his voice is toying and full of love at the same time. "I guess I was just hoping she'd end up like her mom, is all."
"Oh Beau." I scoff, holding my page as I meet his eyes, more in love with him today than ever before and even more so tomorrow, "I think we lost that battle the second she found your black hair dye."
wow. it feels so surreal to be finished writing Emma and Beau's story. I'm crying happy tears and feeling lots of emotions right now! more than anything I'm so grateful for you all! thank you for your comments which always lift me up and make me laugh, for the votes, and for the love you've shown bemma!
I'll be posting a playlist - OF COURSE! - and an authors note soon, where we can take a little trip down memory lane if you'd like (to join me in my feels!)
and remember to stay tuned for a special announcement! y'all are going to love it.
let me hear your thoughts in the comments! ❤️