He pulled out his coin and squeezed until the grooves bit into his skin. Was the entire neighborhood conspiring against him? When had they all become so invested in what happened in his bedroom? His friends—former friends—may wish for him to find happily ever after in the arms of an English princess, but it wouldn’t happen. She did not belong in his world, nor did he belong in hers. Their nights together were an anomaly, a moment of weakness, a bright spot in his otherwise dark world. He had no desire to make Rose Waverly a part of his life, and after the way he treated her, she wouldn’t let him anywhere near her.
Those intentions were all well and good, but then Ben had to see her. Or hear her, more accurately. She was sitting at the upright piano in the back of the bar, a crowd of patrons gathered around her as she played. Abby stood by her side, cheering her on.
As Ben came closer, several things became abundantly clear. First, Rose was a terrible pianist. He winced as she struck a discordant pattern of notes, her voice not quite in tune with the melody. But a second realization trailed just behind. Every person in the bar adored her. Rose radiated joy, unassuming and pure, welcoming and bright. The brilliance he first witnessed when she arrived at his doorstep, when he declared her as not belonging in Brooklyn, had done something he never expected.
Her brilliance made her one of them. It made the entire neighborhood shine brighter for her presence.
“Come, landlord, fill a flowing bowl, until it doth run over,”she sang. “For tonight we’ll merry merry be, tomorrow we’ll get sober.”
“You were right to be concerned.” Ben jumped at Garrett’s voice from his side. He had been so entranced he did not even notice the man’s approach.
“What about?”
“About Rose.” Garrett took a long pull of his whiskey. “She is noticeable.”
“He that courts a pretty girl, and courts her for her pleasure, Is a fool to marry her without a store of treasure.”
The patrons around the piano lifted their drinks and joined in for the final chorus. They breathed as one, the sound of dozens of voices from different places, coming together, belonging together in this place. Pride swelled in his chest. He couldn’t fix everything, but he could have this moment, this victory for the neighborhood he claimed as his own.
“Now let us dance and sing, and drive away all sorrow, For perhaps we may not meet again tomorrow.”
Rose struck the final chord as Abby clapped gleefully, grabbing her cousin’s shoulders in a hug. When Rose stood, her cheeks were flushed, her forest eyes gleaming as several patrons rushed to her side, as drawn to her as he had always been.
When their gazes met, pulled together through the faces of the bar, Ben’s heart stopped. Her lip lifted the slightest bit, tentative, and guilt struck him deep in the chest. Shebelongedin Brooklyn Heights, as much as he ever did. Any insecurity she felt about her position in the community was Ben’s doing, his stubborn heart refusing to admit what she was, what she had become.
He had been holding on to his grief to punish himself for Aiko’s death, but what good would that do? Suffering would not bring her back, nor would it help anyone in Brooklyn if he kept himself so guarded. Rose brought light to Brooklyn Heights, spun gold in broken places, found joy in sorrow. She was a single taper, sharing her flame with everyone whose life she touched. Even if she never spoke to him again, he couldn’t deny her belonging, the good she brought to his world.
Rose deserved to be here just as much as he did. But her place was in England, with a husband who could keep her safe; why would she ever give up the life she could have to be with him? He wasn’t worth it, not when he wouldn’t open his heart to her completely.
“I believe this is the point in the fairy tale when the knight goes to rescue the princess,” Garrett said from Ben's side.
He shook his head. “She doesn’t need to be rescued.”
“No, but maybe you do.”
Chapter 24
AbbyskippeddownForsythAvenue, lyrics trailing behind her as she sang with childlike glee. “Ooooooh I need another drink!”
“Oh no, you do not!” Cass called back with a sigh. “She had a hard day,” she said to Rose. Ben trailed them, a sentry guarding them from any potential danger Brooklyn might serve up at the late hour. “Burned scones.”
“Dreadful,” Rose commiserated, only half-listening. She could barely think with Ben behind her. He hadn’t said a word to her in the pub; while brooding silence seemed to be his defining personality characteristic, he was more contemplative than usual as he offered to walk the ladies home. More than once she saw him extend a hand, as though reaching to touch her and thinking twice, regretting the instinct.
She had no right to be disappointed that he did not want more from her. Ben had been clear from the outset—he would not offer his heart, and she swore not to make a claim for it. But, as was typical for her, she wanted more. She wantedeverything.
“Where did you learn that song?” Cass asked, pulling Rose out of her thoughts.
Abby jumped in before she could respond, walking backwards down the street until Cass took her elbow and turned her in the right direction. “Her father and mine went to university together. Not at the same time, but at the same place. Every year at Christmas, they’d drink too much brandy and sing their Oxford songs.” Her voice caught and a small sob, then a hiccup, escaped. “I miss singing with him, I miss—”
“I know, sweet.” Cass stopped and pulled Abby into her arms, holding her as the smaller woman’s shoulders heaved.
The ache in Rose’s chest intensified, a longing for what she left behind. If she lost her family home, she would at least still have her mother and father, her sisters.
But not her twin.
“Go ahead.” Cass smoothed Abby’s hair with her palm. “We will be a moment.”
Ben nodded, then glanced at Rose. She gave a weak smile as they continued walking.
