Dirty Little Lies (Dirty Little #2) (22 page)

“What?” I ask.
 

She shrugs. “Never thought I’d see that again. It’s nice, seeing you this happy.”
 

I don’t even know if happy is the right word to describe what I am.
 

“C’mon,” I say hooking my arm through hers. “I have a bunch of your favorite movies at home, and your favorite snacks. We’re going to have one last slumber party.”
 

Corinne groans, but it’s good natured. “I have to be up at five to get to the airport on time.”
 

“Well,” I say lightly. “I can definitely make sure you stay up until then.”
 

Corinne glares at me.
 

“You have time to sleep on the plane, but not a lot of time left to spend with your sister. Say goodbye to your guests so you can go to your next party.”

Corinne gives me an indulgent smile. “Okay.”
 

“How dirty do you think that water is?” I ask. “I mean, there’s
dirt
dirty, and then there’s biologically hazardous dirty, you know? I can’t figure out which one we’re dealing with here.”
 

Ben closes his eyes with a long, tortured sigh. “That’s what you’re thinking about right now?”
 

I can see how that would be distressing, given the whole romantic atmosphere he seems to be setting with this late afternoon date of sorts.

“There was a train of thought that led me to this station, no worries.”
 

Ben squeezes my shoulder as we walk across Bow Bridge, pulling me closer against his side. This part of Central Park is blessedly uncrowded considering how beautiful the day turned out to be.

“Why don’t you take me for a ride on that train?”
 

“Well,” I say, sliding my arm across his back to wrap around his waist, “I was thinking about what a nice walk this is, and how much I love this part of the park.”
 

“Mmm-hmm.” He kisses the top of my head.
 

“And I know how much you love this bridge, and I was thinking about how nice it would be if you kissed me right over there.” I point to a place about ten feet away, where the bridge starts curving down. It’s as romantic a spot as it can be in a public place like this, with the backdrop of the bright green trees and the flowers. It sets a mood.

“That sounds nice. I’m really concerned about how you got from kissing to toxic water, though.”
 

“Well, I’m trying to explain that.”

Ben smiles. “Go on.”
 

“You know how sometimes you like to lean in? Press your body all up against mine so there isn’t any space between us?”

“You like it when I do that,” he reminds me.

“Mmm. Very much.”
 

“Okay, so…”

“So, I was thinking about what would happen if you kissed me, and leaned in, and maybe I lost my balance and toppled into the water. I would pull you in with me, of course.”
 

Ben laughs. “So, you pictured me kissing you, but not doing it correctly. That’s not really making me feel any better here.”
 

“No!” I cry quickly, worried about the directions his thoughts would take. “It was more of a worst-case scenario kind of thing. Like one of those domino trails that people set up and then knock down, but with thoughts instead of dominoes. You always kiss me correctly. I was basically considering what it would be like if we were living in a rom-com.”

“You think this is rom-com-y?”

I shrug. “Well, a little. In the best way. It’s the kind of perfect date that you dream about, but that rarely happens, you know?”
 

“I’m glad you think this is perfect. I was hoping you would.”
 

I’ve been running my mouth so much that I didn’t even notice Ben walking us over toward the railing, and pressing my back against it. Wow, it’s way too sturdy for me to ever topple over, and I’m nowhere near tall enough.
 

Still, he’s going to kiss me, and I’m not going to complain about that.
 

I clap my hand against the cement railing, before wrapping both of my arms around his waist, pulling him close so tightly that I think maybe it might be difficult for him to breathe. If it is, he doesn’t say anything.
 

“Wow, you’re good.”
 

“Yeah?”
 

He’s
leaning
, and… “Yeah. Really good.”
 

“I can be better.” His lips are so close that I can feel his words.
 

I grip the fabric of his shirt between my fingers and give it a little pull, until Ben is kissing me senseless.

“How’s that?”
 

“It’s better than finding out how dirty that water is, that’s for sure.”
 

Ben leans in and kisses me again, and I chase his lips with mine when he pulls away, not wanting any of this to end.
 

“Why are we stopping?” I pout.

“We’ve got another stop to make.” He reaches out and takes my hand, sliding his fingers in between mine.
 

“We do?”
 

“Yep.” He looks down at his watch. “And we’re cutting it close, so come on.”
 

“Where are we going?”
 

Ben winks at me. “It’s a surprise.”
 

* * *

Even though Ben has his driver let us out of the limo about a block too early, I know where we’re going even before we get there. Ben knows that I know, there’s no way that he doesn’t. But I don’t say anything, just let him hold my hand and lead me through the crowd of people flooding the sidewalks.
 

His thumb runs back and forth over my knuckles, and it’s a warm, calming thing. My heart is going a mile a minute, but it’s not nerves, it’s anticipation. I hadn’t really caught on when he suggested that we have a late lunch in the park, and then took me for a walk across Bow Bridge. It wasn’t until he suggested that there was another stop to make that I realized he was recreating our first date.
 

I am completely, without a doubt, one-hundred-percent certain: Ben is going to ask me to marry him.
 

I am completely, without a doubt, one-hundred percent certain: I am going to say yes.
 

It’s actually difficult for me not to tug on his hand, stop him in the middle of the crowd, throw my arms around him and whisper “yes” against his lips until the two of us are laughing in each other’s arms.
 

When I was growing up, I always wondered how people knew when they were ready to commit their whole life to another person. It seemed so big, so momentous, so scary.
 

Now, I understand.
 

The building blocks of a relationship foundation come together before you even realize that they’re forming anything at all. It’s in the way he remembers that I was scared of stuffed animals when I was little, and the way I remember that his first word was “foot.”
 

It’s in the way he knows that pressing his hand against the small of my back will relieve all the tension coiled up in my muscles after a long, stressful day at work. It’s in the way I can tell that he’s feeling a little melancholy about the past when he disappears out onto the balcony early Sunday mornings. It’s the way I know that a soft kiss and a whispered “I love you” will drag him out of it.
 

We know we’re ready because of the tiny things, the little bits of knowledge that we gradually stack into a forever. When you look at what you’ve built together, you think, “This is where I belong.”
 

I belong with Ben. I want to share my home and my life with him. I want to have children with him, and learn from our parents’ mistakes. I want a little piece of him and me to go out into the world and raise all kinds of hell.
 

So when the scaffolding on the outside of the Murphy Building comes into view, I’m ready to jump out of my skin. When we finally walk up the steps onto the promenade in front of the building and clear the traffic on the sidewalk, Ben slows his stride and looks over at me.
 

He’s wearing this soft smile, and his eyes are bright and happy. I’m pretty sure I’m looking at him the same way. He knows that I know what’s going on, but he doesn’t try to rush or get on with it.
 

He takes his time, pulling my hand up to his lips and pressing a kiss on the back of it.
 

“C’mon,” he says, walking over toward the street musician who has his violin cradled between his shoulder and chin.
 

“Is that the same guy?”
 

Ben laughs, and shakes his head. “I’m good, but I’m not that good.”
 

“Yeah,” I say, squeezing his fingers. “You’re good.”

The two of us stand together, looking up at the building that brought us together twice now. I haven’t been on the restoration board for nearly a year, but one of the remaining members is nice enough to forward me updates. The project is moving along quickly, and they’re expecting to have the project finished by the spring.
 

“They’re repairing the cracks,” Ben says, his gaze switching from the building over to me.
 

“Just like we did,” I say.
 

Ben smiles, and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. “Yeah, just like we did.”
 

“You went pretty far for this metaphor,” I tease.

He presses his lips together, and looks down at the ground. “I suppose I did. It’s okay to do that on a special occasion.”
 

A rush of heat floods through my body, and every single nerve in my body is buzzing. I don’t know how I’m not vibrating with it, honestly.
 

“This is a special occasion?”
 

He gives me this look of affectionate exasperation.
 

“You know it is.”
 

I do know that.
 

“Dance with me?” He takes a step back, our arms stretched out between us, our fingers knit together. He looks just like he did that first night. We’re standing the same way, too.
 

I bite my lip and nod. “Okay.”
 

His grin lights up his face, and the music starts playing as he holds me close. I rest my head on his chest, and I think it’s probably the safest and happiest I’ve felt in a long time.
 

We move slowly to the rhythm of the song, which of course is the same one that was playing that day. I wonder if Ben found out the name of it, or if he hummed a few bars of it to this guy, and he just happened to know the song Ben wanted him to play.
 

I suppose that doesn’t matter. I stop wondering when I feel Ben’s lips brush my forehead, anyway.
 

“Your hair was up in a ponytail,” he says, his voice low, loud enough so that only I can hear him. “You were wearing a purple sweater over a white shirt, because you had spilled coffee that morning and didn’t want anyone to see it.”
 

I let out a surprised laugh. How did he remember that?

“I saw you standing on a stool in the Philosophy section, stretching up to reach a high shelf, and I completely forgot what I was looking for the second I laid eyes on you.”
 

I feel tears prick at the back of my eyes, and I cling to him tightly, never wanting this to end, never wanting to let go.
 

“I reached up and pulled the book down for you, and you said, ‘I don’t know why I’m gonna bother reading this anyway, it’s probably bullshit.’”

We both laugh at the memory.
 

“It was bullshit,” I say, smiling.
 

“I wanted to kiss you right then and there. And later that night, while we were dancing right here, you let me.”
 

“It was a great kiss,” I remind him. Toe-curling, mind-numbing. The kind that you read about in romance novels.
 

“If I hadn’t been such an idiot, I would’ve realized that night that you were it for me, Marisa. I wouldn’t have wasted five years not loving you the way that I should.”
 

I take a deep breath, not really wanting him to beat himself up over this anymore, but maybe remembering isn’t such a bad thing.
 

“I don’t think those five years were a waste,” I tell him, sliding my hand across his chest. “It got us here, didn’t it?”
 

“Sometimes I can’t believe we’re here,” he says with a laugh. “We are, against all odds. And this is exactly where I want to be.”
 

I smile up at him, then stretch on my tiptoes and kiss him. It’s slow and deep and probably a little too much for polite company, but I don’t care. I’m going to spend the rest of my life with this man, and I want that to start as soon as possible.