TEMPORARY MATES PERMANENT CRAVINGS novel Chapter 298

Two hundred and ninety eight

Wesley POV

The conference room slowly emptied after the meeting with the supervisors from the oil fields. Chairs scraped against the floor and conversations drifted toward the hallway as the men headed back to their respective sites.

I was making a few notes on the production reports before filing them away when the door opened and Barbara stepped inside carrying a large cream-colored gift bag with neatly tied handles.

I looked up and smiled.

“I thought the meeting would never end.”

“It almost didn’t,” I said, getting to my feet as she walked around to my side of the table and hugged me.

One of the supervisors poked his head back through the doorway.

“Alpha Wesley, the oil spill from this morning has been fully contained. The cleanup crew finished about twenty minutes ago.”

“Good. Keep me updated if anything changes.”

“Of course.”

He disappeared again, finally leaving Barbara and me alone.

I pointed toward one of the chairs across from my desk.

“Sit.”

She did, setting the gift bag carefully on the table between us.

My eyes immediately went to it.

“What are we celebrating?”

She smiled without answering.

“Open it.”

I chuckled.

“I hope it isn’t food. I made the mistake of letting my chef prepare a very unconventional breakfast. It was spicy enough that I questioned every decision I’d made leading up to taking the first bite.”

She shook her head, amused.

I pulled the tissue paper aside and lifted out a neatly wrapped package. The moment I peeled back the paper, my chest tightened.

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Comic books.

The series Beatrice and I had spent years collecting together.

My thumb traced the glossy cover. The artwork had been updated, but the characters were exactly the same. The familiar red and deep violet colors hit me hard.

“I found the new edition a few days ago,” Barbara said softly. “I remembered how much you two loved this series.”

I didn’t answer. The scent of fresh pages drifted up as I opened the first volume. A smile found me before I realized it.

I lowered my face slightly and breathed in again.

“She loved the smell of new books,” I said, laughing under my breath.

“I used to think she was strange.”

I kept turning the pages, memories surfacing one after another without permission. Weekends spent arguing over storylines. Her insisting one character deserved better. The way she’d refuse to let me skip ahead because she wanted us to discover every twist together.

Barbara watched me quietly.

“I’m glad I could bring some of those memories back.”

I looked up at her.

“Thank you. I mean it.”

She smiled, but there was a sadness in it now.

“We’re almost in October.”

October. The month Beatrice died. Six years.

Sometimes it felt impossible that so much time had passed.

Other times it felt like she’d only been gone a few weeks.

I looked back down at the books.

“You don’t know what this means to me.”

“I think I do.”

She leaned back. Her smile turned bittersweet.

“She wouldn’t want you remembering only the day she died. She’d want you remembering everything that made her happy.”

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I swallowed.

“Thank you, Barbara. This was a thoughtful gift.”

“You’re welcome, Pookie.”

My smile disappeared.

Pookie.

For years, I’d only ever heard Beatrice call me that.

Barbara must have noticed the change in my face, because her own smile faded.

“Barbara…” I chose my words carefully. “Could you not call me that?”

Her eyes widened.

“Oh. I… I’m sorry.”

She looked down at her hands.

“I wasn’t thinking. I… I crossed a line.”

She blinked rapidly before reaching into her handbag for a handkerchief. “I honestly wasn’t trying to.”

“It’s okay.”

She dabbed carefully beneath her eyes.

“I thought…”

She didn’t finish the sentence. I immediately regretted saying anything. Her saying the nickname had felt wrong, but seeing Barbara blame herself for it didn’t feel any better.

“It’s okay.”

She shook her head.

“I shouldn’t have said it.”

I walked around the desk until I was standing beside her. I gently helped her to her feet before pulling her

into a hug.

“It’s not you.” I sighed. “I… don’t want anyone else calling me that.”

She nodded against my shoulder. “I understand.”

When she stepped back, she watched me with damp eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’ve apologized enough.”

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Her gaze drifted toward the necklace resting against my chest.

“That’s a rare piece of jewelry. Was that from her?”

I glanced down.

“No,” I said, and walked back to my chair.

“So,” I said, hoping to steer us away from the awkwardness I’d created, “what can I do to make up for making you cry?”

She laughed. “You don’t have to make up for anything. Apology accepted.”

She smiled again, and the heaviness between us finally eased.

“You know,” she said, “Mom hasn’t forgiven me for not supporting her during dinner. She thinks I should’ve helped her convince you to move the ‘wedding’ forward.”

“I hope it doesn’t cause problems between the two of you.”

She waved the concern away.

“When our breakup eventually happens, I’ll tell her I couldn’t live with the idea of replacing Beatrice.”

I smiled.

“It’s funny, though.”

“What is?”

“This relationship has become so believable that sometimes I have to remind myself we’re acting.”

I chuckled.

“I know what you mean.”

“Nobody can ever know,” she said.

“I’m afraid we’re a little late for that.”

Her smile faltered.

“What do you mean?”

I rubbed the back of my neck.

“I may have accidentally told Grandma Cassidy.”

“Wesley! Why did you tell her?”

Her voice sharpened in a way I hadn’t heard before.

“I didn’t plan to. She has this way of getting the truth out of me before I realize I’m talking.”

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Barbara frowned.

“And you think I don’t have harmless people I could tell if that’s the standard we’re using? It sounds like our secret isn’t much of a secret anymore.”

“Grandma Cassidy isn’t going around telling people.”

“You don’t know that. What if she lets it slip by accident?”

“I shouldn’t have told her,” I admitted. “I know that. But she’s been part of my life for as long as I can remember. She knows things about me that even my mom doesn’t. If there’s one person I trust to keep this between us, it’s her, and if she doesn’t, then I’m the one who answers for it.”

She frowned.

“You really believe that?”

“I know it. Besides, if this fake engagement falls apart, your mother can have the grand wedding she’s dreaming about. I have friends…”

“Don’t even go there. If I decide I want a man, I’ll find one.”

I laughed and raised both hands in surrender.

“I’m trying to help.”

After a comfortable pause, she rested her elbows on the table.

“So what are we doing for Beatrice’s anniversary?”

I looked down at the comic books again.

“I hadn’t really thought beyond visiting her grave.”

“I don’t think she’d want us spending the whole day being miserable.”

“Probably not.”

“What if we made it about her instead? We spend the day doing the things she loved. We invite Anita too. She was Beatrice’s best friend. The three of us can remember her properly.”

For six years, I’d treated that day the same way.

Visit the grave, stay quiet, carry the grief until midnight.

Repeat the following year.

Perhaps remembering Beatrice through the life she’d lived instead of only the day she’d died wasn’t betraying her memory after all.

“I like that idea,” I admitted.

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Barbara smiled.

“Leave the planning to me.”

I nodded, looking once more at the comic books resting on my desk.

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