She lifted her chin and nodded, and every cell in his body burned with shame at rejecting her. But both of them would regret going any further.
He tipped his chin towards his bedroom. “You’re sleeping in there tonight.”
She hesitated, tension coiled in her body. “Are you—”
“I’m sleeping out here.”
Rose shook her head. “Wait.” She gripped his elbow as he turned. A bolt of pain shot through his injured shoulder, grounding him in the moment, bringing him back. Rose’s face, so impossibly perfect, pierced with uncertainty.
“Talk to me, Ben.” Her green eyes glistened like morning dew on summer leaves. “Tell me what I did wrong.”
She had done nothing wrong; Rose Waverly was everythingright. Ben was the man who nearly took advantage of a woman in his protection. A woman who sought adventure and an escape from her gilded tower. A woman who was rapidly making the memories of his past, hiswife, fade. Already he’d opened himself to her, given her space and made himwantagain. But it was impossible. Ben could never have what he lost, what he destroyed.
“I can’t.” He most likely never would.
Ben crossed to the makeshift bed by the hearth, examined it, then dropped into the leather chair, burying his head in his hands. He waited until he heard the soft click of the bedroom door closing, until exhaustion and pain pulled at his eyes, until every muscle in his body ached with regret. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, wondering to whom he was apologizing.
The early hours of the day, before the stinking late-summer heat set in and the sidewalks clogged with people, were the best for getting things done around the building. Ben pushed through the front doors of 138 Willow before the sun had climbed above the clustered buildings of Brooklyn Heights. Fruit sellers gathered for coffee along the curb, commiserating over the weather before becoming competitors. The smell of fresh-baked bread floated in the air and stirred Ben’s stomach as he crossed the street, nodding to his neighbors as he passed.
He had no destination in mind; he couldn’t be in the apartment a minute longer. Sleep was out of the question, not when the makeshift bed smelled so distinctly of Rose. Hell, his entire apartment seemed to be full of her, from the tea cup left on the counter, to her pens spread across his desk, to the handkerchief she had used to stop the bleeding on his neck, now folded and tucked in his coat pocket. Upon realizing his clothing and sling were still in his bedroom, he dressed in his soiled trousers from the night before, the state of his appearance matching that of his soul.
“Fancy seeing you here.”
Cass stood in his path, a lazy smile on her face. Deep circles shadowed her eyes, and the dark curls of her hair furled around the strip of fabric holding it in place.
“Cass,” he croaked. “What are you doing awake?”
“Mrs. Rivera had her baby this morning. Her oldest son came for Miss Restell a few minutes after you left.” Pleasure flushed her cheeks. “The little girl came quickly. Everyone is well.”
Ben released his breath; he could never do the work Cass did. So much could go wrong, so much depended on every decision she made. “I’m happy to hear it.” His brow furrowed. “Why are you walking home alone?”
Cass smiled knowingly. “You didn’t immediately chastise me, so I know you’re distracted.” She took his arm and turned him in the opposite direction. “I’m exhausted, but too jittery to go home yet. Abby isn’t working this morning, and she needs her sleep.”
They walked in silence for half a block before Cass spoke again. “How did Rose settle in?” When Ben didn’t reply, Cass made a noise low in her throat. “I think she may be a blessing for you, Ben.”
“In what sense?” He was desperate to change the subject while simultaneously wanting to tell Cass everything he was feeling, the confusion and desire tearing him apart. While he liked to think of himself as a humble man, Ben hated admitting he was wrong. And last evening, when he’d seen Rose sitting with goddamned Vinny Vacarro, writingpoetry, she had been a vision. Yes, she was beautiful beyond anything he ever imagined, but her openness, her ability to bring out the vulnerable side of a street thug. A man Ben had already dismissed as being a waste of his time.
Rose had seen the beauty in him and helped him shine.
“I haven’t seen you so mixed up over a woman—overanything—before.” Cass bumped his shoulder with hers. “What happened after we left you?”
Ben grumbled under his breath, as coherent a response as he could muster.
“I’m sorry.” Cass’s tone showed she was anything but sorry. “I couldn’t hear you.”
“I don’t want to talk about her.”
“Fine, don’t talk. Just listen, because I’ve been thinking about this, about you.” She exhaled on a hum as they turned a corner, the sun at their backs casting long shadows down the empty sidewalks. “You have done nothing but help the women of this community since you arrived. I don’t know where I’d be if you hadn’t taken us in.”
Ben shrugged. “It’s the least I can do.”
“Not true, Ben. You need to take care of yourself, too.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not. You spend your days working for the building or the society, and I’m grateful for it. We all are.” She hesitated. “You’re attracted to her, aren’t you?”
Recoiling slightly, Ben grunted. “No, I’m not.”
