She stepped back, blinking. She crouched to retrieve the sheet and wrapped it around her again, retreating to the bed.
“Fuck.” He rubbed the back of his neck and crawled onto the blankets beside her, curling his body around hers. “I shouldn’t have talked to you like that. It’s just… It’s hard to talk about where I belong.”
“We can’t make the world fair, can we?” Her voice was breathy, almost dream-like, and Ben’s hard edges softened.
“We can’t.”
Rose’s gaze was on an unfixed point in the distance. “But we can make it a little better, every single day. If we keep trying, if we keep our hope alive…” She rolled to meet his eyes, placing one hand on his rough cheek. “It may not happen in our lifetime, but eventually the world will become a better place.”
The air escaped Ben’s lungs in a rush, and when he sucked in his next breath, it felt warmer, soothing the ache in his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, and she released a heavy sigh as she settled against him. He couldn’t fix the world, but with Rose by his side, perhaps he could make it a little better.
Chapter 26
Thegiantstonearchoverlooking Washington Square Park reflected the sunlight so harshly Rose had to shield her eyes from the glare. The crisp air whipped around her, and she clung to the pamphlets in her hand, immensely grateful that fall had descended and pushed out the lingering summer heat. “Votes for women!” she called, passing a pamphlet to a young man strolling by. “Rally for women, this Thursday in Central Park!”
Today’s efforts had been more successful than any other the previous week; their attempts at garnering support in midtown were met with outright dismissal, but Ben had been right that New York University students would be more likely to support their progressive ideals. The young man who took the pamphlet gave her an approving nod and walked on, tucking it into his breast pocket. A glow of pride spread in her chest, and Rose couldn’t help but look to see if Ben was watching.
He stood across the park, just under the arch, speaking with two women who seemed to hang on his every word. He glanced up as though sensing her attention, met her gaze and winked. She felt a corresponding pull in her core, heat climbing up her cheeks as she remembered that morning, when he laid her out on the table in their kitchen, and—
“Votes for women!” she croaked, shoving another pamphlet towards a passing couple. They averted their eyes and pushed past her, but Rose did not mind. If she convinced one person of their cause, she would be satisfied.
Their conversation over, Ben left the women and crossed the wide expanse of concrete, holding her gaze. By god, he was incredible, and Rose felt a delightful thrill of possessiveness. This brilliant, handsome man washers.
For now.
“How are you?” His voice was rough, and she wondered if he had been thinking about their morning activities as well.
“I’m enjoying this,” she said. “Being offensively forward and abrupt can be fun.”
He shook his head, although a smile pulled at his lip. “Activism shouldn’t be fun—”
“You’re allowed to have fun, Ben.” She grabbed his hand and squeezed it, then brought it to her hip. “We’re here to scandalize, to make waves.” She leaned close, letting her lips brush against his ear. “What good is scandal if we can’t enjoy ourselves?”
Rose pecked a quick kiss on his cheek and skipped away, and his rough laugh followed her. “You’re a nuisance, Rosie!” he called playfully.
“Votes for women!” she cried over her shoulder in response as she approached a group of people just entering the park.
Her head was still turned towards Ben, lost in thought of how she might scandalize him further before the day was out, so she didn’t see the couple coming near until she was upon them, thrusting out her hand. “Votes for—”
The last word died in her throat. The park around Rose blurred and shifted as her ears began to ring. Her feet anchored in place, even though every nerve in her body screamed at her to run as she stared at the face more familiar than her own.
“Rose,” Fern breathed, her hazel eyes wide.
Had Rose been forced to describe her twin, she would have missed so many details that rushed back from her memory at that moment. The sprinkle of freckles across her nose and cheeks. The moss green of her eyes studded with amber flecks, a perfect mirror of her father’s. The long brown lashes that faded to golden tips. Features she had seen every day for years and now belonged to a stranger.
Rose had no concept of how much time passed before she noticed the man standing at her sister’s side, the man who put a possessive arm around Fern’s waist and pulled her close. “What are you doing here?”
Rose’s stomach dropped as she met his gaze. Alex, the man she once thought she would marry, was now her brother-in-law, although she had not seen either of them since they wed. Her eyes narrowed, his betrayal still stinging in her gut. “Why areyouhere?”
“Alex was giving a guest lecture at the University.” Fern sounded more confident than she had in their twenty years of shared history. Except, perhaps, the horrible day when Fern broke her heart and admitted she had stolen Alex from her. That Fern had loved him all along, and he loved her in return. The day when Rose was cast aside for someone better.
“Fern worried when you didn’t come to Boston as planned.” Alex’s jaw was tight, his words clipped. Their English accents had dulled somewhat, as though their American existence had seeped into every aspect of their lives and erased pieces of their shared past. “Since we were in town, we were going to call on your Uncle Edmund next.”
“No,” Rose shot back. “You can’t, you—I’m not staying with Uncle Edmund.”
Fern’s eyes narrowed. “Then where are you—”
“Rosie, are you alright?” She jumped at the pressure of Ben’s hand on her lower back and stepped away, her eyes darting between her lover and her sister.
