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I want so much to find that elusive direction in my life that I’m determined to make this job work even though it doesn’t. It isn’t just Tate either, it’s me too—I just don’t love it the way I wanted to. But Tate’s hot-and-cold demeanor isn’t helping at all. And now it’s Friday and the workweek isn’t even over. I have to work with him all day tomorrow. The thought makes me want to crawl back into bed. It’s been exhausting trying to push what happened with Ben aside and concentrate on work, so much so I’ve ended up sleeping most of the week when I wasn’t at work.
And just as draining has been my avoidance of my family. They’ll know immediately something isn’t right when they see me, and I don’t want to discuss what happened with Ben right now. So every time one of them calls I blurt out a reason I have to rush off the phone. With my mother and Jack in New York City, avoiding them has been easy. My brothers too. But Dahlia saw through it all when she called me last night and I couldn’t help myself—I broke down and told her a little bit about Ben—just that I had seen him and it didn’t go well. I left it vague and she didn’t pry. I thought it would be awkward, but it wasn’t. As usual she listened and gave support.
Peeking through the blinds this morning, I see it’s later than I usually get up, but I’m not sure of the exact time. I unplugged my clock because time was moving too slow. I roll out of bed and relocate to the couch. The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn draws my attention and I decide to read a little bit more. I’ve become obsessed with the boy who isn’t thrilled with his new life of cleanliness, manners, church, and school. The boy whose life on the straight and narrow isn’t necessarily for him but who sticks it out for his friend. It makes me wonder if Ben somehow relates to this character and that’s why he loves the book so much. More than anything I wish I could ask him.
A light knock on my door tears me from my thoughts, but I opt to pretend I’m not home. When the knocking turns into pounding and a familiar voice carries through the door, I can’t ignore it any longer.
“Bell, it’s me, Dahlia. I know you’re home. I saw your car in the parking lot.”
“Coming,” I call as I shuffle toward her. Turning the lock, I pull it open and see Dahlia’s shining face.
Her eyes sweep me from head to toe. “Hi, are you just getting up?” She sounds concerned. She pushes past me with a tray of coffees in one hand and a white pastry bag in the other. I step aside and cross my arms as she heads for the kitchen with determination. Today I can tell by the look on her face she’s on a mission and I’m having a hard time seeing the beauty that’s usually the first thing I notice about her.
I follow her. “Hi yourself. What brings you here on a workday?”
She sets the cups and bag on the counter and pulls out a coffee, squinting to read the side. “Do I need a reason to visit?”
I eye her suspiciously. “No, I guess not.” Although I know why she’s here.
“Well, I’m going to meet Aerie for lunch and I thought . . .” She pauses, handing me a cup. “Here, this one is yours. Extra cream and sugar.”
I smile and remove the lid. Happy to have this delicious treat in my hands, I slurp down a big gulp. “Ow . . . that’s hot.”
She laughs. “It’s coffee, Bell. Of course it’s hot. You’re supposed to sip it, not chug it.”
“I know but usually the cream makes it cold.”
She traipses across the tile floor in her high-heel black boots.
“You were saying?”
She shrugs. “I don’t remember.” She opens a cupboard and takes a plate out—a clear pink glass one. “Charlotte’s been to the flea market, I see,” she says, eyeing the plate.
“Yep. Came by last weekend with a bag full of groceries, Tupperware, and a few Depression-era pieces.”
“It’s beautiful,” she says, opening the bag and setting some muffins on the dish.
“Yeah, it is,” I agree.
Her eyes meet mine. “But you still don’t like it here.”
I lift one shoulder in a shrug. “It’s fine.”
“Bell, move in with River and me until you find a place you like better. Jagger stayed with us and it was fine, fun even.”
“I appreciate it but I’ll be quitting Tate’s by the end of the year and then I’ll have a lot of time to figure out where I want to live. And besides, I could never live with my brother.”
She scrunches her nose. “Why do you say that? He loves you.”
“Nothing bad, it’s just him and Xander are so overprotective as it is. I couldn’t imagine the third degree any date I brought home might get.”
She giggles. “Yeah, that might be an issue.” She takes the plate and her cup over to the sofa and sets them down on the coffee table. Her eyes dart to the book on the glass surface and I can see what she clearly knows—it is Ben’s favorite book. She pulls a leg up and tucks it under her other one. Turning toward me, she asks, “So, do you want to talk about it?”
I sit next to her and take a muffin from the plate. My eyes search hers as I peel back the paper around it.
“I talked to Aerie. She says Ben seems withdrawn but refuses to talk about it.” She sips her own coffee through the small hole in her lid.
“You really should take the cover off. It’s much easier to drink.”
Her lip curls up. “You really should stop avoiding the conversation and your family.”
God, she’s observant—too observant. I sigh as tears prickle my eyes and I can’t hold them back anymore. And as awkward as the face-to-face conversation will be, I decide to tell her some of the things I skipped over last night. Like how I ran into Ben during the summer and then again at his award ceremony. How I was attracted to him and tried to fight it. How he seemed to care about me. How my mother told me I owed him and myself the truth and I agreed with her. And finally how he left me standing alone at the restaurant when I told him about the baby.
She listens quietly without even flinching and surprisingly without judgment. When I finish she says, “Bell, Ben has always been reactive and a bit of an ass**le at times and you have to understand that’s who he is. Sometimes he just needs time alone.”
“Well, he’s got it,” I say. What I don’t tell her is he was out with some girl the very same night, not because she’d care but because I do.
p>
I want so much to find that elusive direction in my life that I’m determined to make this job work even though it doesn’t. It isn’t just Tate either, it’s me too—I just don’t love it the way I wanted to. But Tate’s hot-and-cold demeanor isn’t helping at all. And now it’s Friday and the workweek isn’t even over. I have to work with him all day tomorrow. The thought makes me want to crawl back into bed. It’s been exhausting trying to push what happened with Ben aside and concentrate on work, so much so I’ve ended up sleeping most of the week when I wasn’t at work.
And just as draining has been my avoidance of my family. They’ll know immediately something isn’t right when they see me, and I don’t want to discuss what happened with Ben right now. So every time one of them calls I blurt out a reason I have to rush off the phone. With my mother and Jack in New York City, avoiding them has been easy. My brothers too. But Dahlia saw through it all when she called me last night and I couldn’t help myself—I broke down and told her a little bit about Ben—just that I had seen him and it didn’t go well. I left it vague and she didn’t pry. I thought it would be awkward, but it wasn’t. As usual she listened and gave support.
Peeking through the blinds this morning, I see it’s later than I usually get up, but I’m not sure of the exact time. I unplugged my clock because time was moving too slow. I roll out of bed and relocate to the couch. The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn draws my attention and I decide to read a little bit more. I’ve become obsessed with the boy who isn’t thrilled with his new life of cleanliness, manners, church, and school. The boy whose life on the straight and narrow isn’t necessarily for him but who sticks it out for his friend. It makes me wonder if Ben somehow relates to this character and that’s why he loves the book so much. More than anything I wish I could ask him.
A light knock on my door tears me from my thoughts, but I opt to pretend I’m not home. When the knocking turns into pounding and a familiar voice carries through the door, I can’t ignore it any longer.
“Bell, it’s me, Dahlia. I know you’re home. I saw your car in the parking lot.”
“Coming,” I call as I shuffle toward her. Turning the lock, I pull it open and see Dahlia’s shining face.
Her eyes sweep me from head to toe. “Hi, are you just getting up?” She sounds concerned. She pushes past me with a tray of coffees in one hand and a white pastry bag in the other. I step aside and cross my arms as she heads for the kitchen with determination. Today I can tell by the look on her face she’s on a mission and I’m having a hard time seeing the beauty that’s usually the first thing I notice about her.
I follow her. “Hi yourself. What brings you here on a workday?”
She sets the cups and bag on the counter and pulls out a coffee, squinting to read the side. “Do I need a reason to visit?”
I eye her suspiciously. “No, I guess not.” Although I know why she’s here.
“Well, I’m going to meet Aerie for lunch and I thought . . .” She pauses, handing me a cup. “Here, this one is yours. Extra cream and sugar.”
I smile and remove the lid. Happy to have this delicious treat in my hands, I slurp down a big gulp. “Ow . . . that’s hot.”
She laughs. “It’s coffee, Bell. Of course it’s hot. You’re supposed to sip it, not chug it.”
“I know but usually the cream makes it cold.”
She traipses across the tile floor in her high-heel black boots.
“You were saying?”
She shrugs. “I don’t remember.” She opens a cupboard and takes a plate out—a clear pink glass one. “Charlotte’s been to the flea market, I see,” she says, eyeing the plate.
“Yep. Came by last weekend with a bag full of groceries, Tupperware, and a few Depression-era pieces.”
“It’s beautiful,” she says, opening the bag and setting some muffins on the dish.
“Yeah, it is,” I agree.
Her eyes meet mine. “But you still don’t like it here.”
I lift one shoulder in a shrug. “It’s fine.”
“Bell, move in with River and me until you find a place you like better. Jagger stayed with us and it was fine, fun even.”
“I appreciate it but I’ll be quitting Tate’s by the end of the year and then I’ll have a lot of time to figure out where I want to live. And besides, I could never live with my brother.”
She scrunches her nose. “Why do you say that? He loves you.”
“Nothing bad, it’s just him and Xander are so overprotective as it is. I couldn’t imagine the third degree any date I brought home might get.”
She giggles. “Yeah, that might be an issue.” She takes the plate and her cup over to the sofa and sets them down on the coffee table. Her eyes dart to the book on the glass surface and I can see what she clearly knows—it is Ben’s favorite book. She pulls a leg up and tucks it under her other one. Turning toward me, she asks, “So, do you want to talk about it?”
I sit next to her and take a muffin from the plate. My eyes search hers as I peel back the paper around it.
“I talked to Aerie. She says Ben seems withdrawn but refuses to talk about it.” She sips her own coffee through the small hole in her lid.
“You really should take the cover off. It’s much easier to drink.”
Her lip curls up. “You really should stop avoiding the conversation and your family.”
God, she’s observant—too observant. I sigh as tears prickle my eyes and I can’t hold them back anymore. And as awkward as the face-to-face conversation will be, I decide to tell her some of the things I skipped over last night. Like how I ran into Ben during the summer and then again at his award ceremony. How I was attracted to him and tried to fight it. How he seemed to care about me. How my mother told me I owed him and myself the truth and I agreed with her. And finally how he left me standing alone at the restaurant when I told him about the baby.
She listens quietly without even flinching and surprisingly without judgment. When I finish she says, “Bell, Ben has always been reactive and a bit of an ass**le at times and you have to understand that’s who he is. Sometimes he just needs time alone.”
“Well, he’s got it,” I say. What I don’t tell her is he was out with some girl the very same night, not because she’d care but because I do.
“Hey, listen to me. I know you’re upset right now, but he’ll come around and when he does I just want you to be happy. And if he makes you happy I’m okay with it.”
I sigh in relief that the thought of me with Ben doesn’t infuriate her, but also knowing there’s no future with Ben anyway. “So you don’t hate me for everything?” I finally ask.
Her eyes fill with protectiveness. “God no! I’m here for you whenever you need me. No matter what it is you want to talk about. Ben is a part of my past, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want what’s best for him. And if you think he’s what’s best for you, then, Bell, I support you.”
In this moment I can’t possibly love her any more. I swipe my tears away. “Well, he’s not what’s best for me, that’s for sure.” I can’t say anything else as my throat tightens.
She frowns. “However you choose to resolve this, do it, because it’s what you really want. I hate to see you like this.”
I nod. “I’m fine. Just a minor glitch but don’t worry, I’ll be back to normal soon.”
She eyes me suspiciously. “Bell, did Ben tell you how old he was when his father died?”
“No,” I croak.
“I’m not making excuses for him, but he was the same age . . .” She pauses and I answer for her.
“As our child would be now.”
She nods and takes a deep breath. “And I think Ben sometimes separates himself from that child who lost his father. . . .”
As she talks it hits me . . . why he likes Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn—two lost boys. I imagine he likes Peter Pan too. I quickly bring my attention back to Dahlia and shove those thoughts aside.
“He has a softness for kids. He always has. He took Trent under his wing and helped Serena raise him. He was a big brother to underprivileged kids for years, and even when he was in New York City he told me he volunteered as a drug counselor to teens. I’m not saying his reaction was right. I’m just saying I think I understand it.”
I nod, absorbing everything she says. I feel a little raw. Looking at the time on my phone, I jump up. “Oh my God, I have to get ready. I have a retirement dinner downtown and I have to make sure the flowers arrived and the tables are set up.”
She stands up and hugs me. I hold her tightly for a long time before I walk her to the door.
“Call me,” she says.
“I will. I promise. And, Dahlia, please don’t tell River about this.”
She stares at me. “I can’t do that.”
“Please,” I beg.
She sighs. “I won’t bring it up, but if he asks me, I have to tell him.”
I understand that and hug her close again. “He won’t ask. Why would he?”
She pulls back and narrows her eyes at me. “But you do have to tell him and Xander too. I can’t keep this from him forever.”
“I will,” I promise.
She leaves and I slump back against the door. The thought of it is too much to bear right now. Dahlia wasn’t there when it all went down—how River and Xander wanted to confront Ben and I begged them not to. The truth was, I wasn’t sure if Ben finding out about the baby would change my decision or possibly change my future and I didn’t want it to change at that point. I was too broken to be fixed—or that was how I felt. I wonder now, if I had let them confront him, would my life be different today?
CHAPTER 23
Stuck in the Middle
Ben
I’m focused intently on my computer screen as I search the TRASH folder for Beck’s monthly layout that I accidentally deleted. Almost a week has passed since I found out I have a kid out in the world. My sister’s words are still swirling around in my brain. “Maybe you should think a little more about her and a little less about yourself.” The trouble is, she is all I have been able to think about. A memory sweeps through me.
• • •
It was October thirty-first my senior year and S’belle e-mailed me and asked me to meet her that night. It had been almost two months since she had left me sleeping after our night together. I replied no. She asked again and that time I couldn’t say no—so I said I’d meet her later that night. I knew I was lying to myself thinking I could just see her—I knew I couldn’t. I wanted her to know how I felt. I told her that her green eyes were the most otherworldly eyes I had ever seen. That thoughts of her touch excited me. And that her red, almost copper hair haunted me. We agreed to meet at her apartment. She gave me the address.
But I never went that night, I couldn’t. Dahlia came back early—I wasn’t expecting her. Instead I went the next day to her apartment and she wasn’t home. I went back the next five days and she never answered. The next time I showed up, someone answered and said she didn’t live there anymore.
• • •
A soft knock on the door pulls me back to the present. “Come in.”
Aerie enters. “Hi. Do you have a minute? I need to talk to you.”
“Hey. Sure. Everything okay?”
She takes a deep breath. “I know you have a lot going on right now, but I have something to tell you and I’m not sure how you’re going to react.”
I glance over to her and motion for her to take a seat. “That doesn’t sound good.”
