Chapter 35
A
few hours after I say goodbye to Ben for the last time at the office, he's standing on my doorstep holding a small gift-wrapped box in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. My heart beats wildly as I let him in.
I'm going on a date with Ben!
“Hi,” I say shyly.
He gives me a quick hug. “Hi, yourself.” He extends the box to me. “I was going to bring flowers or chocolate, but this is much better.” He holds up the Malbec. “We can have a drink before we go, and you can open it.”
“Sure.”
He follows me to the kitchen, where I rummage through the drawer for a corkscrew. Usually I have no problem opening a bottle of wine, but tonight I can't even remove the foil covering the cork because my hands shake so much. “Let me do that,” Ben says, taking the bottle and corkscrew from me. I reach into the cabinet for two glasses. One slips from my hand, shattering on the countertop. Ben and I both jump.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“I'm fine. Just clumsy.”
Relax. It's only Ben.
“Be careful you don't cut yourself,” he says, helping me clean up the broken glass.
When it's all picked up, he corners me against the counter. “Are you nervous?”
“I guess so. I don't know why.”
“I'm nervous too.” He smiles as he places a hand on my shoulder. “So maybe we should get this out of the way.” He leans down to kiss me, his lips soft and gentle on mine. As I respond, his kiss becomes more demanding and his hands drop to my waist. He pulls me against him so that are bodies are melded together as his tongue slips into my mouth. My eyes are closed, but I see an explosion of colors over the darkness, red, orange, and yellow, a fire burning out of control. I run my fingers through his wavy hair. God, I have wanted to do that for so long! His breath quickens and his hold on me tightens.
As the kiss continues, all my senses are heightened. I'm aware of the faint taste of peppermint on his tongue, the spicy scent of his cologne, and the hardness of his thighs pinning me in place. Nico was never all that interested in kissing. He seemed to think of it as something he had to endure to get to the good part, like a kid eating his vegetables so he can have dessert. Ben, on the other hand, clearly views making out as an enticing appetizer, fresh bread dipped in oil, and cheese that you overindulge in before the main course.
Neither one of us wants to be the first to pull away, and the kiss goes on and on. Outside a car door slams. Ben lifts his mouth from mine and steps backward. Woozy, I stumble toward him, and he reaches out to steady me.
“Not too bad for a first kiss,” he teases.
“Not too bad at all,” I agree.
After he pours us each a glass of wine, we settle in the living room so that I can open the gift. It's wrapped in shiny paper that is the exact same shade of green as Ben's oxford. “You coordinated the gift wrap to your shirt,” I joke.
“Actually, I wrapped this weeks ago. I was waiting for a good time to give it to you.”
Why would he get me a gift weeks ago? Usually I take my time opening a present, trying to preserve the paper, but tonight, once I loosen the gold ribbon that he tied around the package, I tear off the wrapping in one fell swoop. He bites down on his lip watching me.
My hands tremble and my eyes fill with tears when I realize what the gift is: a replica of the Little Mermaid globe that my grandmother gave me and Christian broke all those years ago. “Where did you find this?”
“On eBay,” he says. “Started looking for it the day you told me about it.”
I picture him pouring over the eBay site day after day to find this for me. The image makes me think of Mr. O'Brien gluing his wife's mug back together. “That's incredibly sweet.” I wipe away a tear that's rolling down my face and lean toward him so that I can hug him. As our heads come closer together, he moves in to kiss me again. There is nothing gentle about this one. It's hungry and suggestive. As it intensifies, there's no doubt what it's leading to. He lifts my sweater as I work on the buttons of his shirt and his belt buckle. He tugs down my skirt as he pushes me backward. At some point we roll off the couch onto the floor, both of us crying out as we go over the edge. Later we move to my room, where we make love again under the glow-in-the-dark stars Nico pasted to the ceiling in what seems like another lifetime.
* * *
The next morning I wake up sated and soreâbut in a good way.
The best sex I ever had.
Did I really say that to him? I flip over, expecting to see him sleeping soundly. The other side of the bed is empty. I lie still and listen for him in the bathroom or downstairs. The house is silent. I get out of bed and peek out the window. His car is gone. My stomach flips.
He must have left a note, I think, and race downstairs. On the way to the kitchen, I pass my clothes from last night, scattered on the living room floor along with the wine glasses and a large red stain from when we tumbled off the couch onto the floor, knocking over my glass.
I search the counters and the table, but there is no note. Damn. I imagine him doing the walk of shame across the porch and down the driveway, and I experience the same rage I get when listening to
BS Morning Sports Talk
.
How could I have been so dumb? I am just another of his conquests. Serves me right for coming on to him the way I did.
By the time I get back to my bedroom, the pain I'm feeling is no longer good. I have rug burn. My lips feel swollen and bruised, and my inner thighs ache. I fling open the windows and rip the rumpled sheets from the mattress.
I feel like such an idiot. For crying out loud, what did I think would happen? I'd sleep with Ben and he'd declare his never-ending love for me?
Yeah, you did think that
.
Idiot!
The doorbell rings. Ben returning? I rush to the door. Mr. O'Brien stands there carrying a ladder. Holding a large plastic container by a bright blue handle, Zachary stands next to his grandfather. “We're fixing the ceiling. Told you yesterday,” Mr. O'Brien says. “Did you forget?”
“No.”
Yeah, I did!
I hold the door open. He and Zachary come in and head toward the stairway. The old man pauses on the third step, glancing into the living room. I swear he's looking right at my discarded bra. I wonder if he saw Ben sneaking off in the early morning hours.
While Mr. O'Brien and Zac work upstairs, I clean the living room. Before I get far, the doorbell rings again.
Thank God
, I think, hurrying to answer it.
“Surprise!” my mother yells. She opens the storm door, steps inside and hugs me. My father trails behind her. He too embraces me. I want to dissolve into tears in his arms.
I try to compose myself. “What are you doing here?”
“We had nothing going on this weekend, so we thought we'd take a quick trip up to see you.”
“Why didn't you call?” I guess it's a good thing that Ben left.
“It was a last-minute decision,” my father says.
I usher them to the living room, frantically surveying the area to be sure there are no telltale signs of what went on here last night. My mother immediately hones in on the dark red stain on the carpet. “Did you spill wine?”
“I knocked over a glass.”
She goes to the sink and runs water over a paper towel. “Did you even try to clean it?”
“I just spilled it and was about to do that.”
“You were already drinking this morning?” my father asks.
My mother blots the spot with water. “No, the spot is dry. It didn't just happen.” She returns to the kitchen for the saltshaker.
“Marianne, why are you pouring salt on the carpet?” my father asks.
“It will help draw out the wine. How long has it been here?” she asks.
“It happened last night.”
She shakes her head. “And you didn't try to clean it up.”
I was busy!
I shout inside my head.
“We only just got here. Let's not annoy her already.” My father winks at me.
There's loud pounding from upstairs. My parents look up at the ceiling. “My landlord is doing work,” I explain.
My mother continues her inspection of the living room. She bends over and reaches for something beside the couch. I can't see what's captured her attention. My heart beats faster.
I took the bra upstairs, but what about my panties?
“Where did you get this?” She's holding the Little Mermaid globe.
How could he give me such a sweet gift and then sneak off in the morning?
“A friend found it for me.”
She bends down again. This time she comes up holding the wrapping paper. Her eyes go to the dark red stain in the carpet. I can see her doing the math. “A friend as in a boyfriend?”
“He's no one,” I answer. I think of Ben skulking out of my apartment before I woke up this morning.
Clearly I'm no one to him.
There's another large bang from upstairs, and then the sound of tiny pieces of plaster hitting the floor, like the world is coming down on me.
* * *
“Who are you expecting to call?” my mother asks. It's Saturday evening. We're eating at a tapas restaurant in my neighborhood. After dinner, we're heading to Boston to see a musical. Earlier, we went shopping at the outlets in New Hampshire. My parents are wearing me out.
I drop my phone back into my purse. I haven't missed any calls or texts. I didn't need to pull it out to find that out. The volume is on high. If it had rung, I would have heard it. “No one.”
“You've been checking that thing all day.”
It's true. I've convinced myself that there is a reason Ben left, and he'll call to explain. “Bad habit.”
“It's rude,” my mother says.
She's right. They came all this way to see me, and I'm paying more attention to an electronic device than them. “Sorry.”
She pushes the plate of goat cheese croquette toward me. “Have you heard anything from Nico?”
I sip on my sangria before responding. “He came by a couple of weeks ago. He's been calling too, but I don't want to listen to anything he has to say.”
“You might want to hear him out,” my father says.
Clearly he has no idea that I've been a victim of radio bullying over the last few months. “We never told you kids this, but your mother got a case of cold feet a few weeks before our wedding.”
I drop my fork and turn to my mother. “You did?”
Her cheeks turn red and she glares at my father. “Andrew,” she snaps.
“I'm just saying it happens. At this point, you've invested six years; what's another few minutes to hear what he has to say? If I hadn't heard your mother out, you wouldn't be here.”
That's the last type of advice I expected from my father.
* * *
By the time I get home from dropping off my parents at the airport on Sunday evening, I still haven't heard from Ben. I think about calling him, but decide that I will not humiliate myself chasing after him, the way I did Nico.
Right before I go to bed, my phone rings. It's not Ben, though. It's Nico. Instead of ignoring his call as I have for the past three weeks, I decide to talk to him.
He sounds stunned that I answered. “You picked up.”
“You caught me at a weak moment.” I lie down on my bed, looking up at the stars he pasted there.
“I'm sorry I've been pestering you,” Nico says. “But we really need to talk.”
I resist the urge to remind him of Dr. Decker and the show on stalking. “So talk.”
“I'd rather do it face-to-face,” Nico says.
“You can't come over. Mr. O'Brien will kill you.”
“I wish I knew why he doesn't like me,” Nico mutters “We can meet someplace. Grab a drink or dinner.”
I should be thrilled by his offer. A few weeks ago, all I wanted was the chance to talk to him, but now I can't imagine there is anything he could say that would make me want to forgive him or understand.
“At the very least, we can clear the air,” Nico says.
For the past six years, he's been the person I have relied on most. We should end things amicably. “I'll meet you for dinner.”
Chapter 36
M
onday, my first day at work without Ben, does not start well. Just as the elevator doors begin to slide shut, Ryan waves his arm between them and boards. We are the only two on it. It jerks upward, and I reach for the railing behind me.
“Morning,” he says with his usual lecherous stare.
I nod and look down at my phone, pretending to be interested in something on its screen.
“So you and Nico are getting back together,” he says.
“No.” I swipe at my screen to discourage further conversation.
“Come on now. He said on air that you have a date tonight.”
Now I look up.
“I understand why you would want to keep it on the down low.” The elevator beeps as we reach the fourth floor. “Sort of makes you look like a doormat, going back to him.”
“It's really none of your business.”
As we get to the door to our area, Stacy approaches from the other side with a balding obese man, whose suit pants are too short and jacket too tight. She shakes his hand, thanks him for coming in, and promises to be in touch.
I stop to wait for her so that I don't have to walk with Ryan. “You're interviewing for Ben's position already?”
“No time to lose. We have a lot of work to do.”
I look back through the window at the first candidate, who's waiting for the elevator.
Stacy follows my gaze. “Not quite the eye candy that Ben was, but his work is quite impressive.”
My first thoughtâthat I can't wait to tell Ben what she called himâcauses a pang in my heart. My second thought is that she sounds like she's already made up her mind. “I'm sure there are lots of talented people looking for work.”
“I hate interviewing,” she says before turning left for her office.
“Hey, sweetie,” Renee calls as I walk down our aisle.
I step into her cube. “Stacy already started interviewing for Ben's position.”
“I know. We saw him this morning. Ben said he looks like John Candy.”
“How did Ben see him? Did you send him a picture?” I try to imagine Renee covertly snapping a picture of the guy as Stacy led him to her office. There's no way she could pull that off.
“Ben was here this morning. Forgot his phone on Friday. Poor guy couldn't get in the building all weekend because he doesn't have an access badge anymore.”
He didn't have his phone. He couldn't call me!
“What did he have to say?”
That doesn't explain why he left in the first place.
“Not much. He was in a hurry because he didn't want to be late on his first day.”
Back at my desk, I'm tempted to text Ben, but I convince myself that now that he has his phone, he will definitely get in touch with me. I'm wrong though. When I leave to meet Nico that night, he still hasn't called.