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“Something like that,” he hedged, still stunned that he’d dredged up the endearment from some distant, long-forgotten part of himself and not sure he was ready to delve into his reasons for using it now. His own appetite lost, Ben stared down at his toasted sandwich without enthusiasm.
“I see.” She sounded unconvinced, but mercifully didn’t seem too interested in pursuing the subject.
“You still hate me, cupcake?” Ben asked, desperate for her assurance that she did not. Even though he knew the likelihood of that assurance was less than zero.
“I have to, Ben,” she whispered. She met his eyes, her own gaze filled with anguish and determination. “It’s easier than loving you.”
She pushed her sandwich aside, looking a little pasty as she stood up. She swayed and he jumped up in alarm but she found her balance almost immediately.
“Thanks for the sandwich, but I find that I’m not quite hungry right now. I have some reading to do. I’ll see you later.”
She walked away and left him crushed in her wake.
TWENTY-SIX
Doomed from the start
“Oh. Good morning,” Lilah greeted Ben the next morning, when she wandered into the living room and found him flat on his back on the couch, play-wrestling with Fifi. The dog instantly stopped playing, sat possessively on Ben’s chest, and snarled at Lilah as she walked toward the kitchen.
Lilah snarled back, startling a deep laugh out of Ben. He sat up, scooping Fifi off his chest in one smooth movement and put her on the floor. The dog trotted over to her water bowl for a drink, before nosing her way around the kitchen, dining, and living room.
Ben joined Lilah in the kitchen and she tried to hide the fact that she was checking him out. He was wearing only a pair of charcoal boxer briefs, with a white t-shirt. Despite the weight he’d lost, he looked mouthwatering, and Lilah actually swallowed to prevent herself from slobbering all over him.
A squeak sounded from the floor and they both jumped in fright and then laughed simultaneously when they realized it was Fifi, playing with one of her toys. The dog was in a pink and blue onesie with the words My Daddy Wuffs Me embroidered on the back.
“What the hell is she wearing?” Lilah asked in amusement.
“Her pajamas,” Ben said, padding to the kitchen on bare feet, yawning as he walked. “You want coffee? Espresso? Cappuccino?”
“Uh, nothing, thanks…” The thought of coffee made her feel sick to her stomach. He slanted her a surprised glance.
“Seriously? You’re barely functional first thing in the morning without a hit of caffeine.”
“Maybe later, my stomach is a bit unsettled this morning.”
He still looked troubled, but helped himself to a double shot espresso and walked to the breakfast bar with his cup, leaning both elbows on the counter and staring at her for a minute. She waited and, after a moment, he took a sip from his espresso mug, without saying a word.
Lilah knew how hard he must have bitten his tongue not to ask if she was okay. And appreciated the effort he was making to respect her privacy.
She poured herself a glass of orange juice and sat down at the breakfast bar and watched him through narrowed eyes.
“What?” he finally asked.
She nibbled at her lower lip before speaking. “I know Fifi came with her own wardrobe but I would never have expected you to actually take the time to dress her in these finicky little jackets and things.”
He ducked his head and took another sip from his cup.
Oh, what was that? He was avoiding her eyes!
“Ben?”
He muttered something and her eyes widened, she wasn’t sure if she’d heard him properly. “What did you say?”
“I said I bought her the onesie,” he repeated, before adding almost defensively, “She seemed cold at night, even under the covers. And she looks so comfortable in her little pajamas.”
“What else did you buy her?”
He shrugged, and sounded surly when he itemized, “A couple of jackets, some sweaters and t-shirts. A new collar and ID tag, because her old tag was outdated. Toys. A couple of dog beds. A car seat and safety harness. All the stuff a responsible pet owner would get.”
“Ben… most of her things are pink. You’ve never liked pink,” she pointed out, trying very hard to disguise her growing smile. She’d also noticed that Fifi’s sparkly pink tag read Daddy’s Princess on the one side.
“And?” he asked in response to her statement. “She looks great in pink. And I don’t mind pink. I just never had an opinion on it before. I still don’t really, I just think it suits Fifi.”
“Okay,” she said with a small smile and he took another quick sip from his cup.
“You want breakfast?” he asked, and she shook her head.
“Not yet.”
“Fifi and I are going for a walk later… if you want to join us?”
