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“Did you find out if Owen’s wrist is okay?”
Ben scoffs. “I don’t give a fuck. I hope it’s at least sprained.”
When Ben wrestled him to the ground to take his driver’s license and passport, Owen apparently whined about Ben hurting his wrist. He wanted to go to the hospital to get it checked out, but he couldn’t without his driver’s license.
“Amir’s brother is a doctor, he’ll look at it,” Ben assures me. “Did Owen stop texting you?”
“I blocked his number.” I meet his gaze, which so many people think is exactly like Owen’s, but to me is very different. “Part of me wants to scream at him, but I know him, and if I do that, he’ll think there’s hope. There’s no hope. We’re completely done. I have to shut him out for him to get that.”
“Don’t let him charm his way back in,” Ben warns.
I shake my head. “There’s no way. I’d never trust him again. He betrayed me when my mom...” A lump rises in my throat and I swallow against it. “Anyway, can our fake honeymoon be Owen free? Can that time I just said his name be the last time either of us says it until we’re back home?”
A corner of his mouth turns up in a half-smile. “Good idea. Except you have to call me by his name and I have to answer to his name.”
I laugh. “Other than that. No talking about him. Let’s talk about anything else. Even if we make it all the way to...I don’t know, the growth rate of pimples in outer space.”
“I think we can do better than that. I’ve known you since you wanted to move into the hotel from The Suite Life of Zach and Cody, remember?”
Cringing, I remember all the gushing I used to do over the Sprouse brothers. I’ve always been an open book.
“I don’t remember any of your childhood crushes.” I grip an armrest as our plane hits a rough spot, the turbulence making my stomach drop.
“Didn’t really have any,” Ben says absently.
“I doubt that.” I arch a brow, trying to remember who the hot female stars were when we were kids. “Hannah Montana?”
He scoffs in dismissal. “Fuck no.”
“Hmm...who did little Ben have a thing for? I’ll get it out of you eventually.”
A smile plays on his lips. “Sure you will, Stel.”
It’s ironic that Ben, whose personality is reserved, plays ice hockey for a living, which involves trash talking, fighting, and on-camera interviews. Whereas Owen, an extrovert who holds nothing back, is the one who wears a suit and tie to an office job every day.
The plane continues to dip and I take a deep breath, holding it in anticipation.
“Breathe. This is completely normal,” Ben assures me. “I fly all the time.”
Normal or not, I don’t like it. And we have a very long flight, which leaves too much time to replay the moment Owen walked out of his room with his assistant. The bitch was smirking.
It wasn’t just my wedding plans that blew up in that moment, but the plans I had for my life. Everything is up in the air now. The only thing I know for sure is that I’m going to lose my mom.
“Did you know humans are taller in the morning?”
I turn to Ben, his random question making me smile. “How is that possible?”
“Gravity. Your cartilage compresses and your organs get weighed down during the day.”
“I...didn’t know that, no.”
He nods, his expression serious. “I always get my physicals first thing in the morning. I don’t want my stats saying I’m 6’2” when I’m 6’3”.”
“I always forget you have an inch on...you know.”
“Voldemort?”
I laugh at his clever way of not using Owen’s name. “Right.”
Ben sniffs. “I’ve got an inch on him in the height department, and more than that in another one.”
I open my mouth to respond, my cheeks warming. What can I say to that? Ben is a catch, for many reasons, and I’ve seen women including Claire try to reel him in to no avail. He brought a date to his family’s Thanksgiving dinner a couple of years ago, but he seemed uncomfortable and she did, too.
“Hey, with...” I wave a hand. “You know, everything, I haven’t had a chance to catch up with you. How’s life in Denver? Are you seeing anyone?”
“Denver’s great. I like my teammates. And I’m not really seeing anyone.”
My gaze locks onto him. “Not really? Did you have to tell someone you’re going on a fake honeymoon?”
“No. I’m not seeing anyone.” He leans his head back against the seat, turning to look at me with a grin. “I think we need to get some drinks and go to the beach as soon as our flight lands.”
Just the thought makes my shoulders sink with relaxation. “That sounds amazing. I’ve only been to the beach once and it was raining. I’ve had a picture of a sunny beach hanging on my bulletin board for a long time. I picture myself there when I’m stressed.”
