Page 49 of What We Had

“Time is it?”

“A little before six. Go back to sleep.”

Six in the morning. We crashed around eleven. He was definitely sober.

I hooked my arm around his waist and pulled him into me, his back to my chest. He adjusted the blanket, tucked his head by my neck. “Go back to sleep,” he repeated.

I grunted agreement. Sighed. Took in a breath. His hair was right under my nose. I could smell his shampoo. Felt the heat of his body pressed into me. His ass pressed to my waist. He fit perfectly against me. Our connection…

Shit.

I loved waking up this way, but not when we hadn’t gone further than kissing.

“Bennett, maybe you should—”

“I can ignore it if you can,” he whispered. “Don’t worry. I just want to lie here with you.”

“But I’m getting—”

He snaked a hand out and found my lips. “Shh.”

I pulled him closer, if that were possible. I never fell back asleep.

ChapterFourteen

ONBENNETT’SSECONDday off, we hit the gym later in the morning. I informed Bennett that the best way to cure a hangover was to get moving, not laze in bed and nurse the headache. Begrudgingly, he got up and we worked out for a solid hour. We palled around together the whole day, running some of Bennett’s usual day-off errands, like grocery shopping. The afternoon felt strictlycouple-esque. Quick pecks on the cheek here and there, handholding, slogging through the day to get to the evening.

Bennett drove us back to my house before five o’clock. We had picked up ingredients to make dinner. Bennett was excited to use at least three of the eight burners on the behemoth, stainless steel range in the kitchen. I told him to drink water all day to avoid smelling like a hangover at night. The wine stayed in the cellar during dinner and I poured seltzers into wineglasses to simulate something fancy. Bennett roasted a whole chicken, made truffle mashed potatoes—the creamiest I have ever had, and I’ve been to some swanky places in LA—and green beans cooked in a balsamic reduction with caramelized shallots that made the list of top three things I ever ate.

Every time I put a forkful of food in my mouth, I had the same, repetitious thought.I could get used to this.

After cleaning up, I navigated us into the library, where I started a fire and set some music. My mother had been aware that I was bringing a “friend” by and she didn’t ask any further. Told me to get her squared away for the evening and to be quiet. The hallway that led out of the library and to the primary suite held a set of pocket doors, which I closed.

Low light. Lo-Fi music. Full bellies. Sparkling water. Bennett had a peaceful air about him, as if nothing had ever burdened his shoulders. If I could create that bubble of protection every night for him, I would. He wore an unbuttoned hunter green flannel with a pair of jeans. I had on a cashmere sweater the color of wood smoke that Bennett couldn’t keep his hands off of. Kept telling me how soft it was. I might have flexed every time his fingers brushed against my arms.

He also wore a particularly expensive timepiece on his wrist. After some terse but playful discussion at the gym, I had eventually convinced Bennett to keep my watch that I gifted him the night before. His token, “I can’t accept this,” protests only got so far, especially when he realized I didn’t give two shits how much the thing cost. I had received it from my costar upon completing the filming ofMortal Evidence, making it one of my cherished possessions. But seeing it on Bennett’s wrist instead of mine didn’t elicit any sense of loss within me. In fact, it bolstered my affection for him. Filled me with a strange sense of mutual possession.I am his and he is mine.

We browsed my mother’s collection of works along her shelf. Bennett narrated as we went. In addition to watching everything I had ever been in, he had also attended all the workshop runs of Cordelia’s plays. He and Walt made a night of it, going to a nice dinner, making sure Walt popped the right pill so he could endure sitting for two hours.

I had to step away from him the more he talked. Stood in front of the fire, let the heat wash over me. A hand pressed against the small of my back. Bennett beside me.

“Hey,” he said. “Did I say something?”

I rested my hand on the mantel. A tall, gold-framed mirror sat there and I looked up to see myself. Blinked. “I feel guilty.” I didn’t want to say that, but I did. “You kept an eye on me, I feel like. Followed my career. My mother’s career.” I dropped my eyes back to the fire. I couldn’t look at him. “Every time something reminded me of you, I ran from it. Couldn’t handle the hurt that came with it.”

Is this it? Are we going to talk about it?

I lowered my hand from the mantel and then crossed my arms, then dropped them. I didn’t want to appear closed off. “I remember I did try finding you on social media once.” I exhaled a pathetic laugh. “I kid you not, I looked through all of my followers to see if you were there. Thousands. I went through thousands and thousands of faces and names. I had my PR team organize it all into a spreadsheet. They thought I was crazy.” I shook my head. “Stupid, pathetic attempts at nothing. But you? You even went to my mother’s plays. While I, what, changed the channel or left a room every time a Fleetwood Mac song came on?” Or saw someone whose eyes were too blue. Or came across a shorter man with a strong build. Or, or, or…

Bennett didn’t respond verbally. Instead, he slipped inside my bubble, put his back to my chest, then guided my arms so that they wrapped around his waist. He dropped his head on my shoulder, encouraging my face to lower into his neck. He smelled like sandalwood. I squeezed him tighter into me.

“I wasn’t there,” I said so quietly that the fire crackled louder than my voice.

“You are now,” Bennett said. “That’s what matters.” He spun so we stood chest to chest, made sure my arms stayed around his waist, and propped his arms on my shoulders. I swooned at the way he had to tilt his head back to look up at me. “You have been so patient with me. It blows me away, honestly.”

“Thatblows me away. Were people not patient with you in the past?” This man had a deep well of amazing offerings, and all anyone had to do was extend trust and wait to be given the world.

Patience is simple, but people are not.

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