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I gasp when I step into the kitchen. It’s so bright that for one terrifying second I think the house is on fire. Lit candles dot nearly every surface. There are vases of roses everywhere—red ones. Red rose petals litter the floor, the furniture. He takes my cell phone from my hand, places it on the coffee table, and continues to lead me through the house.
“What’s going on?” My voice echoes strangely in my own ears, as if I’m in another realm. Maybe I am. Maybe I’m still fast asleep on the couch not laughing at any of Joey’s one-liners.
“Donut?” Benji offers.
“Huh?”
He points out a plate on the kitchen counter holding what looks suspiciously like the brioche vanilla crème donuts we enjoyed in Florida.
“Are those…?”
“It wasn’t easy with short notice, but there they are.” He continues tugging me through the house. I quicken my steps to keep up. At the sliding door, he pauses and gestures for me to go out ahead of him.
There are floating candles and flower petals in the pool. The lights aren’t violet like before, but pink. My heart is doing cartwheels, but she’s been wrong a lot lately, so I’m hesitant to trust her.
“You said you weren’t okay.” My confusion gives way to denial. This can’t mean what I think it means.
“I’m not. At least not yet.” His palms bracket my hips as he stands behind me, his lips against my ear when he asks, “Do you want to swim?”
“It’s eleven o’clock,” I say numbly.
“It’s later than that. Do you?”
“I didn’t bring a bathing suit.” I study the sparkling surface of the pool, a lump in my throat forming. He wants to have sex again. That’s what this is about. I refuse to hope it’s more. If he asks me to resume our physical relationship after he’s romanced the hell out of his house, I’m not sure I have the strength to say no.
“No suits needed,” he rumbles into my ear. “In fact, I prefer you without.”
I turn to face him and see what, I’m not sure. Again I’m met with the sense I can’t trust myself. He tips his chin. “You first.”
“Benji…” I’m not sure what’s going on, but I’m sure whatever it is will end badly for me. Say we do have sex—amazing, incredible, mind-blowing sex. Afterwards I’ll go home and then what? Die? That sounds about right.
I search my brain for remnants of the speech I halfway prepared to give him tomorrow. I need more time. I’m not ready.
“Okay, I’ll go first. But only because you’re forcing my hand. I wanted to save this for last.” He pulls his T-shirt over his head and tosses it onto one of the loungers next to the pool. Soft pink light glows warmly on his bare skin, shadowing the bumps of his ab muscles and the round firmness of his pecs. He’s beautiful. A golden god. And for a brief moment in time, I could touch him whenever I wanted.
It’s been a little over a week since I’ve seen his body, and already it feels like an eternity. I don’t mean to, but my eyes feast on his torso. Halfway through their exploration, they snag on something new. He notices me noticing. He doesn’t say a word.
“You have another tattoo.” The fresh ink, so recent his skin is red, surrounds the carpe diem tattoo.
“I was lost,” he says, his voice choked with an emotion I refuse to name. “Now I’m not. I have to cover it up before we get in the water, though. It’s still new.”
“It’s a compass,” I whisper, my hand going to the necklace draped at my throat. He touches the pendant before his glittering brown eyes hit mine.
“When I gave you this, I told you that you were your own true north. And you are. You always will be. No matter what happens in the future.”
It’s harder to ignore my heart when she’s screaming at the top of her lungs, but I block her out and focus on Benji. Benji, who tattooed a compass onto his flank. I shake my head, unsure how to respond. He keeps talking and saves me from it.
“When you left my bed for the final time, and life was like it used to be, I didn’t have any direction anymore. I have felt lost every day since. I don’t ever want to feel that way again.” He touches the tender skin around the compass tattoo. “I had this done as a reminder of my true north. There is a capital C where the N should be. It’s for Cris. You’re my true north too.”
His smile isn’t the confident, disarming smile I’m used to seeing. It’s more hopeful, less sure, and a million times more genuine. Something has happened. I clutch hands with my heart and pray he gives us what we’ve longed for over the last year or two. Or hell, ten.
“Remember when you said I was never getting married and I agreed I wasn’t?” he asks.
A rocky start, but I nod anyway.
“Marriage has always been a far-off idea attached to some faceless, nameless person. The idea of it is absolutely fear-provoking.” He takes both my hands in his. “But when I picture marrying you, it’s way less scary.”
I don’t want him to make promises out of guilt or to make himself or both of us feel better for a little while. So I say, “You don’t have to—”
