Back to Me (Book Three ✓)

ten

BEAU

The diner smells like smoke and stale coffee, but the patrons are mainly old men who don't bother looking up when I enter. The perfect spot, given how my face has been plastered all over the tabloids again.

Beau Lewis: Out of Rehab - What's Next?

I roll my eyes as I sink into a faux-leather bench, pushing the laminated menu away from me as I do. "What's next?" is what gets me the most. I gave them the show of a lifetime - full of dramatic and personal twists and turns that they used for their gain to sell stories. And now what? The vultures want an encore?

Oh, if they could see me now. I dump some salt onto the tabletop and pinch it between my fingers. Beau Lewis - sober, father to be, with a girl who doesn't even want him anymore. Real rock star shit.

"What can I get you, darlin'?" The one waitress at the place, an old woman with dyed red hair and a lip ring, asks me, a steaming pot of coffee in her hand already.

"Black coffee is fine." I mutter, flipping my coffee cup on it's saucer so that she can pour.

She makes a soft "hmph" sound before pouring the beverage and leaving me alone. How nice it is to be left alone. Parker flashes in my mind then and I wonder if he's lost his shit on Melanie yet during one of her bible rages. Oddly enough, I sort of miss the kid and his constant questions.

Brows furrowing, I let out a deep sigh.

Why did I agree to this? I flip my phone in my hands over and over again, nearly jumping out of my skin when it starts to ring.

"Hello?" I press it to my ear without checking the caller ID.

"Hey Beau," It's not Emma. I should've known it wouldn't be - since I've been back, we haven't really talked. She texted me her appointment information after I saw her that night - the night when I held her while she cried, a selfish act that left me wanting a stiff drink - and that was that.

Pressing my fingers into my eyes, I hold in another sigh. "Zoey,"

"I'm running a little late but I'm on my way now. I hope you haven't been waiting long," Zoey sounds distracted and a horn blares in the background. She was never on time, I remember that much.

"Not long." I confirm before assuring her that I'm fine to wait a bit longer.

Glaring around the diner, dingy with dim lighting and waxy checkered floors, I hang up and finally release the groan I've been holding in.

Why did I agree to this?

Because when I think of Zoey, blonde with round eyes and an even rounder belly, all I see is Emma. And if Emma were to ask me, I'd be here. The logic makes no sense to me and I'm hoping Dex won't bother digging too deep, either, but the reality is the same. Here I am, at a diner in the middle of nowhere, waiting like a chump.

I chip away at the black polish on my thumb, silently counting the ticks of the stupid cat clock on the wall as I wait. Taking a sip of my coffee, I grimace at the burnt flavor and push it aside.

The door opens with a metallic clang but I don't lift my head until the light pink ballet flats are standing next to my table patiently.