The waitress stared at him, seeming to judge every word, so he rushed ahead, “I attended her funeral today. My
ex
-wife’s funeral.”
She nodded slowly.
“And I try to make people understand how
devastating
it was to say goodbye to her, but nobody understands. She was my ex, but she was my everything. I never fell out of love with her.”
Please, please, cry. Let a tear fall right now
. “And now she’s gone. I will never have another chance with her.”
The waitress nodded more vigorously.
He felt a burning in his nose, no doubt aided by the wine flowing through him, and he managed to squelch a victory dance when his eyes filled with tears. “But how do I explain this to others? My friends do not understand why I am so heartbroken…so bereft. ‘
She cheated on you,
’ they tell me. ‘
She does not deserve your grief.’
But I lost the love of my life, and I will never find another. Nobody understands.”
“
I
understand,” she said softly.
He looked up at her through his tears, and she slid into the chair across from him. She took a deep breath, seeming to steel herself. “My ex was murdered eight months ago.”
He flinched with feigned horror and seized the opportunity to capture one of her hands in his. Her skin was so soft, so delicate.
“And we’d never married, so nobody understood what that was like for me. But my son lost his father…” She abruptly sat up, yanking her hand away. “I’m sorry. Here you are having an awful day, and I’m blabbing on about
my
problems.”
“No, please. Your pain is so much worse, dealing with a, a
murder
.” He spat the word like it disgusted him. “And left all alone as a single mother. You seem so devoted to your son.”
“He’s a teenager—he can drive me crazy sometimes.”
“Ah, teenagers. Too bad my wife and I did not have children before we divorced. I’ll never have that chance now.” His head shook. “Your son…Is that why you work such long hours?”
She nodded.
“I just realized…I do not know your name. I am Hans. Hans Fuchs.”
She took his proffered hand and shook it. “Ashley. Ashley Frederickson.”
“It is an
honor
to meet you, Ashley.”
***
From her perch in the stands, Sophie surveyed the quiet swimming pool. There was a break in the meet for diving, and two lifeguards dragged the lane markers away from the boards to make room.
“Do you think you’ll swim next year, Ben?” she asked as she dug around her handbag for an elastic band.
Damn, it’s hot in here
. “Ah!” She worked her hair up into a ponytail and fanned the back of her neck, wishing she hadn’t frittered away her swimming career over a battle of wills with her father at age twelve.
Then she noticed he hadn’t answered her question. She turned and found his gaze glued to the other side of the pool deck where some of the girls’ team had gathered. He had his eyes on Lindsay again. “Ben?”
He shook out of his trance. “I’m sorry, what’d you say?”
“I asked if you plan to swim next year.”
“Hmm.” He played with the zipper of his warm-up jacket. “Maybe not. It
is
kind of tempting never to swim the hundred ’fly again.”
“Oh, c’mon, you love it.”
He snorted. “I definitely don’t love the practices from hell.” His eyes drifted back to Lindsay. “But I guess this sport’s not all that bad.”
“Particularly since Lindsay will be a senior on the team next year too.”
He gaped at her, and her only reply was a knowing smile. “Jeez,” he groaned, massaging his temples. “Am I that obvious?”
“She’s a great girl,” she said. “She’s a good student, a fantastic swimmer—a really sweet girl. You’d make a lovely couple.”
He looked down. “’Cept she doesn’t want anything to do with me.”
“That can’t be true.”
“It
is
,” he said. “Dylan went behind my back and asked her if she liked me. Apparently she said I’m a
pothead
.” He held up curled fingers to perform air quotes.
“That’s ancient history. Just because you smoked weed doesn’t make you a pothead.”
“That’s what Dr. Hunter said.”
“No wonder I like him so much.” She smirked. “What did he suggest? Did he encourage you to ask her out?”
“Don’t remember. I think we got sidetracked.”
“Talking about what?”
When he hesitated, she said, “I’m sorry. I’m being nosy.”
“Yeah, you are.”
The sounds of divers bouncing on the board to warm up filled the air. She forced herself to be quiet.
He spoke after a few moments. “Then I found out Lindsay’s dad is a police officer.”
“He
is?”
She scanned the stands as her heartbeat accelerated. “Is he here?” The
po-po
, as Roger had referred to them, still made her uncomfortable.
“Nope. Dylan said her dad hasn’t made it to any meets this year, ’cause he has to work.”
“How does Dylan know so much about Lindsay?” She looked over and saw Dylan whispering in a girl’s ear. “Oh. Dylan’s dating Olivia, and Olivia’s Lindsay’s best friend.”
“You catch on pretty good.” He studied her. “So what’s it like to swim with a bunch of high schoolers? Are you sick of the drama yet?”
Once she’d set Coach Bob straight on the fact that she was very much in love with Grant and very much off the market, she’d really enjoyed the practices. “It’s actually a lot of fun,” she said. “Especially spending time with you—getting to see your world. I love getting to know you better.”
He ducked his head.
“Ben? What’s the big deal if Lindsay’s dad is a police officer?”
“She
definitely
won’t want to be with me now.”
“Why not?”
He widened his eyes and cocked one eyebrow. “Uh, helloooo…my last name? There’s no way she’d date a Barberi.”
“Oh.” She’d had the same conversation—several times—with Grant. Vicenzo Barberi had surely infected the lives of several generations of descendants. “You know, Grant has tried to convince me over and over that he’s tainted and unworthy because of his family.”
Ben looked straight ahead, feigning disinterest.
“And I wouldn’t believe him,” she continued. “Not for one second. Because I
know
him. I know the good in him.” She waited for him to meet her eyes. “Just like I know you.”
“But he’s a
Madsen
. He doesn’t have to use this stupid name.”
“So change your name. You could do that, you know. Take your mother’s name…Frederickson, is it? Benjamin Fredrickson.”
He scowled. “That sounds like shit.”
She laughed. “
Ben
Frederickson?”
“But I kind of like Ben Barberi.”
She nudged his shoulder. “I do too.” She thought she saw a hint of blush on his cheek.
As the first round of diving began, a hush fell over the meager crowd.
His knee jangled. Then his fingers tapped a beat on his thigh. Finally, he whispered, “Sophie? Dr. Hunter wanted me to tell Grant something. But I don’t know if I should.”
“Okay?”
They watched another dive, which elicited polite applause despite the girl’s resounding splash.
“Sophie?”
“Yeah?”
He chewed on his lip. “Lindsay’s right. She shouldn’t get involved with me.”
She sighed. Hadn’t he heard anything she’d said?
“I sold drugs.” The words flew out of his mouth and his eyes bore into hers, daring her to show a hint of judgment. “I was a dealer.”
“I see,” she said, maintaining a neutral façade. “That must have been, um, frightening for you. When was that?”
He swallowed. “Last year.”
“Are you still selling drugs?”
He shook his head.
She kept her voice low. “What made you stop?”
“Um…my dad dying, I guess. And my mom’s stupid drug tests.”
The request he’d made the night before ran through her mind. “So you’re grounded now, after you told your mom about selling drugs?”
“Yeah.” His cheeks flushed. “Can you
believe
she’d do that?”
She’d never been so proud of Ashley’s parenting. “Sucks.”
“Yeah.” He watched another horrible dive and snickered. “That was a
fail
.” Then his expression sobered. “So, um, how do you think Uncle Grant would react if I told him?”
“Well, I think he’d be upset and worried about you.”
“Would he…hate me?”
“Absolutely not. He committed a crime too. I bet he’d want to make sure it didn’t happen again, though. Is it possible you’ll get pressured into using or selling in the future?”
“No.”
She watched Dylan and Olivia playfully shoving each other. “Dylan wasn’t involved in this, was he?”
“He chickened out.”
Thank God
. “He seems like a good guy.”
“Nick and I made fun of him for wimping out.” He cringed. “I was kind of a jerk last year.”
“We all make mistakes.”
Particularly me
. “You haven’t talked about Nick much. Why didn’t he join the swim team too?”
He blew out a breath. “He just got out of rehab a month ago. His dad found drugs in his backpack and went ballistic. His parents, like, kidnapped him and forced him into treatment right away.”
“Wow.” She tapped her chin. “I’m not sure about the legal definition of kidnapping, but I don’t think parents can be charged with kidnapping their own son.”
He elbowed her. “You know what I mean. Lucky for me my mom’s got shitty insurance, or that’d be me too.”
“Why isn’t Nick here watching your meet?”
His grin faded. “His dad won’t let him speak to me anymore.”
“Oh. That must be rough, losing your friend over this.”
He shrugged.
“I’ve seen that happen sometimes,” she said. “Parents get scared when their child has a problem, and they blame their kid’s friends. But it’s not like you made Nick join you, did you?”
“No. He was into it all on his own. He thought it made him cool.”
“Is that why you did it? To make you look cool?”
After a moment, he shook his head. “Nah. I’m
already
cool.”
She laughed a little too loudly, and when a parent glared at her, she shrunk down. After the last diver executed a twisting nightmare, she straightened her spine. It wasn’t like the crowd’s silence helped the divers anyway. Normal crowd chatter resumed as the lifeguards dragged the lane markers back into place for last few races.
“I wasn’t trying to be cool,” he said, continuing their conversation. “I was mad at my dad, and I was trying to get his attention.”
“I see.” She marveled at his insight. “Seems like you’re getting a lot out of your sessions with Dr. Hayes. So, uh, did it work then? Did it get Logan’s attention?”
“Yeah.” His teeth trapped his lower lip. “Sometimes I wish…I still had it.”
A lump lodged in her throat. “Me too. You deserved a lot more of his attention than you got.”
“Hey, Benji boy!”
They looked up to see Dylan climbing the stands. The boy’s build was more like a football player than a swimmer.
“Coach said you’re in the free relay,” Dylan said.
“
What?
Why?”
He grinned and gestured to the locker room. “Yoshi’s in there puking his guts out. You gotta take his place.”
“Gross.” Ben made a face. “I told him not to eat in the school cafeteria.”
“I know, right?” Dylan smirked. “Thanks for scoring some pizza for me.”
“No probs.” Ben turned to Sophie. “You can tell Grant pizza’s
always
welcome at my house.”
“Yeah, tell him, Sophie,” Dylan urged as he patted his belly. “We’s growin’ boys.”
“You got nothin’ to worry about, Dyl. Olivia brings you lunch every day anyway.”
He turned around to find his girlfriend across the pool. “Isn’t she awesome? I better go check on my woman. Later, guys.”
Ben scooped up his goggles and towel.
“You know, Grant used to try to push me away because he didn’t think he was good enough for me. But I didn’t let him. It’s
my
decision who I want to be with.”