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I greet the next person in line, my gaze going to Ben. He’s wearing a dark suit and a navy tie and he is breathtakingly handsome. We’ve texted during the last three weeks, but this is the first time I’ve seen him in person since we said goodbye when he dropped me off at my mom’s house after our flight home.
He’s been at his parents’ house most of the last three weeks, only leaving for a two-day trip for a meeting with his agent in New York. And though he asked me many times if I need anything, I held back the answer I yearned to give him.
What I needed most was him. Every night I’ve craved the solid warmth of his arms. The way he listens to me without responding. Other people say things like I know and It’s going to be okay when they don’t and it’s not. Ben just listens.
Claire, standing next to me in the receiving line, slips her hand into mine and speaks in my ear. “You saw them, right?”
Them? My gaze shoots back to Ben, and this time I see Owen right behind him. Their parents are behind Owen. I groan, then immediately put a smile on for the next person in line.
“I’m so sorry for your loss. She was a lovely person. We were in PTA together for years, I’m Maggie McDonald.”
“Maggie, of course. She always liked you.”
Maggie shakes Claire’s hand and Claire says, “I’m Stella’s best friend. Thank you for coming.”
It feels like the line slows to a crawl, everyone wanting to reminisce about my mom and give me advice about grieving. Which tracks, since it’s a visitation, but all I can think of is that Ben is in this room and I’m not with him.
“Stella.” I bristle when it’s not Ben, but Owen who’s first to greet us in the Hogan family group.
“Are you Ben or Owen?” Claire asks.
He glares at her. “None of your fucking business.”
I move away from Claire, bypassing Owen, too, and pretty much throw myself into Ben’s arms, a fresh wave of emotions barreling into me. He holds me close, the clean smell of his soap making me long for Maui.
“I’m so sorry,” he says softly.
“I’m so glad you’re here.” I say it against his chest, wishing we were alone.
I lean back and he wipes he tears from my cheeks with his thumbs.
“What the fuck is happening right now?” Owen asks in a low tone.
“Move along or I’ll hurt you,” Claire threatens evenly. “This is a visitation and you shouldn’t have even shown up. Make a scene and I will shank you in the kidney.”
Owen and Claire are staring each other down, but I don’t have the energy to care whether they throw down.
Jack Hogan puts a hand on my shoulder. “We’re so sorry about your mom, Stella. We loved her.”
I smile at him through my tears. “Thank you for coming.”
“What can I do for you?” Ben asks.
“Will you stand here with me?”
“Of course.”
Jack puts his hand on Owen’s shoulder and says, “Let’s keep moving.”
“Did you make a move on her?” Owen demands, glaring at Ben.
“Hey, Owen?” My brother cuts in, his tone icy. “This is our mom’s visitation. Get out.”
“He’s leaving right now,” Jack promises, giving Owen a stern look. “Not one more word from you.”
Jack steers him away from the line, Alice tearfully following. Ben joins me back in line, taking it in stride when people greet him as Owen.
He stays by my side until the visitation is over. The funeral follows immediately, and he sits beside me and comforts me throughout it.
Saying goodbye to my mom is a nightmarish blur. I’m physically and emotionally exhausted. But Ben and Claire get me through it, both of them returning to my mom’s house with me when it’s all over.
“If you’re staying with her, I’ll go,” Claire says to Ben.
“No one needs to stay,” I say, empty in every possible way. “I think I’ll probably sleep for the next twelve hours.”
“I’ll stay,” Ben says.
Claire gives me a hug. “Call if you need me. Anytime.”
“Love you,” I say. “Thanks for everything today.”
“Love you, too. Take sleeping medication if you need to.”
I just look at Ben after she leaves, too tired to keep my eyes open much longer.
“I have to go to bed. When are you leaving to go back to Denver?”
“Day after tomorrow.”
I nod. “Can we talk tomorrow?”
“Yeah, of course. Get some rest and I’ll be here when you wake up.”
I mumble my thanks and walk upstairs to my childhood bedroom, unable to process even one more thought or feeling today. I just want the worst day of my life to be over.
When I walk downstairs the next morning, Ben is sitting on the couch with my mom’s cat, scrolling on his phone.
“Hey.” He sets the phone down. “How are you?”
