Beautiful Things Never Last (34 page)

             
“I hate surprises,” I deadpan.

             
“I know! That’s what makes it even funner for me!”

             
I hate Shayna. Not really, but sometimes I want to.

             
“Fine.” It beats spending the night in the apartment alone. It’s odd that Ben somehow ended up with my only friend and my brother. I probably should have thought that plan through better when I asked him to be the one to leave.

             
I clock out, change into the
black dress and heels that Shayna has packed for me and meet her out in her car.

             
“So, where are we going?”
  I ask, tugging on the hem of the dress.

             
“You’ll see.” Shayna says.
She’s dressed up. In a colorful maxi dress full of p
eridot, cobalt, and violet
that sort of reminds me of the
aurora borealis
.

             
“Shay, come on.
If I have to wear this, I want to know what’s going on.”
             
“Ugh, oh fine. Baby. We’re going to the unveiling of Ben’s poster-thing.”

             
“What? That’s tonight? Why didn’t he tell me?”
             
“Uh, because you told him to leave you alone for a while. Anyway, yeah, they’re having a showing of the line of  all of the ones they acquired at some gallery, downtown.
Who knew they made fine-art posters? Talk about a niche market. Anyway, s
urprise!”

             
The gallery is packed.
People are filing in from three different entrances. Who knew that posters drew such a big crowd? I feel insanely out of my element.

             
“Drink?” A waiter passes by and offers me a glass of champagne.

             
“No thank you,” I say. This is awfully hoity.

             
I should hate Shayna for springing this on me, but I don’t. Because I wouldn’t want to miss this for anything—seeing Ben in his moment, being recognized for his amazing talent is worth the discomfort of a borrowed wool dress and heels that are a half-size too small.

             
There’s a row of easels displaying the various
po
sters that they’ve made
from the photos that they bought
. Ben’s poster is
second to last. And just like he said, it contains each of the shots of the sunsets he took for me. They’re lined up in rows
and  he’s
signed the bottom of the poster. Each print will have his signature. It’s incredible.

             
I close my eyes and remember the look on his face when he gave me that book. We were so far away from okay at that point, but he knew that things would be okay someday. So he took those photos every day that we were apart, and now they’re here, for everyone to enjoy.

             
I scan the room until I find Ben.
             
He’s
across the room, but still easy to find. He’s in
jeans, a gray cardigan and a tie.
I love seeing him in his own casual version of dressy. It was one of the first things I ever noticed about him.
He looks overwhelmed in the large crowd, even though he’s taller than the majority of it. He catches my eye and gives me a small, grateful smile. The same smile I’ve seen so many times. And it daw
ns on me that he didn’t change at all. That the same Ben is still standing right there.
That he screwed up, because he’s human. He’d been my version of perfect for so long, I never considered that there’d be a time when he’d let me down, but it had to happen eventually, because nothing in life is that perfect. And that’s okay.
Ben screwing up gave me the opportunity to prove that I could go through something and not fall apart.

             
Ben put everything on the line to be with me, even after my big fuck-up. He never stopped loving me, he just got confused, and maybe a little broken. And I guess everyone is allowed a second chance.

             
There is nothing standing in the way of Ben and
me
being happy but me. I’m not in a situation like Amalea where I have these horrible circumstances keeping me from the man I love. He’s right there.

             
He’s
always
been right there.
             

Twenty-five

QUINN

             
“Thanks for bringing me home,” I say. I’m standing in the doorway to our apartment.
I could have had Ben bring me back to my car. I could have. But to be honest, I wasn’t ready to say good-bye to him at the gallery. Tonight of all nights, I just couldn’t let him go.

             
“No problem. Thanks for showing up tonight. I really can’t imagine doing that without you being there.”

             
I stare back at him. I don’t know what to say to make things
okay
right now. All I know is that I don’t want
it to be ten years from now, and have me sitting there
wondering why I stayed angry, or hurt, or feeling guilty
for so long without Ben
. I don’t want to end up like Amalea, torturing myself over what could have been.

             
“Just let me know when you want to go get your car tomorrow, I can take you,” Ben says.
             
“Thanks,” I say.
Stupid girl.

             
“I love you,” he says. Before I can open my mouth to say it back, he continues. “I used to think I loved you because of the way you made me feel that first day we spent together in Savannah. But I don’t. I love you for the way you crinkle your nose when someone annoys the shit out of you, and you’re trying so damn hard to bite your tongue. I love you for never burning food. I love you for calling me out on my shit, and reminding me every day why I’m so damn lucky to call you mine. I love you for making my life whole.”

             
He gives me a small, warm smile, like he’s thinking the same thing that I am. That he doesn’t want this night to end yet.

             
“I think you should stay,” I say.  I tak
e the last few steps toward him.C
lose enough to see the stubble on his cheeks and neck. Close enough to smell the fresh, soapy scent that
is
Ben.
             
Close enough to fall in love with him again.

             
“Are you sure?”
Ben
tilt
s
his
head to the side like he’s not sure he’s heard me right
.

             
I
nod and
link
my
arms around
him,
pressing
myself into him. I’ve been aching for his touch for weeks.He doesn’t let me go, picking me up and carrying me into our apartment and the door shut behind us.

             
“I don’t think I’ll ever let you go again,” he says.

             
“Don’t,” I say.
             

             
He
carries me to the couch.

             
“I love you,
Ben
,” I say
. I know he’s going to say it,
and
I want to be the one to say it first this time.
The words tumble out easily, just like they have a
thousand
times before, but I need
him
to know it. To understand that it’s real.
That it’s forever.

             
I
lace my
arms around the back
of his
neck and
he
pulls me in
, his lips warm on my ear
. “I love you, too.”

             
H
is
dark eyes are hazy with that unmistakable
look he
gives me when
he
wants me.
And
it feels amazing
to be wanted
.

             
“
I never want to be away from you again,” he says. His
words are a hot rush of breath on my neck, and the only
words that need to be said.
He
lays
back
on the sofa and pulls me onto his
lap
. I tilt my hips up against him and
I can feel that
he’
s instantly
hard.

             
There’s not a minute of fumbling hesitation before
we’re
both tugging on each other’s clothes.
I
works on
his sloppily knotted
tie
. He
slide
s
the zipper of the dress down
my
back
, then runs his hands along the now bare skin. He slips them under the straps and lets
them
fall off of my shoulders.

             
We’re stripped bare. Everything out in the open. Everything lost and then found again. Every ounce of hurt and guilt replaced by the love that we’ve fought so hard for.

             
And for a moment, it feels like too much. Too much at stake again. I
start to move to cover
myself
with
my
arms.