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He always said that.
“You have a really good thing going on with Ben. He absolutely adores you, and if it’s one thing I’ve learnt from my experience?”
“What?”
“Just allow yourself to enjoy it.”
Here was Ben with two plates of food. Finn’s was loaded up. Mine was carefully plated in small sections of everything that I liked. Small triangles of toast. A quenelle of smashed goodness. A small, runny egg poached just right. And one single tomato. A tiny one.
I breathed out, overwhelmed, and hated myself for it.
Ben grabbed a chair and sat.
“Is this the gossip club for pulling info out of Hugo to blackmail me with later?”
“Absolutely,” Finn said. “I have all your skeletons neatly lined up.”
“Fuck you.”
“Fuck you right back, Desjardins.”
I had no idea what was going on between these two, but they were both laughing as Ben grabbed a croissant and shoved it in his mouth, crumbs tumbling down his front, as Finn’s phone went off and he got up and hobbled back out to the restaurant, his napkin still hanging from his collar.
“Thanks for breakfast.” I hadn’t even touched it.
“When you’re done today, go home and have a nap. Forget about everything else and just sleep. You look really tired.”
“Thanks. Does that mean I look like shit?”
He smiled. Reached out. Stroked my skin.
“No. You look like Hugo.”
“Normal then.”
“Yeah. Just a bit shaky. The meat guy just brought me this sample platter of bloody gorgeous olives. He does that, brings me stuff he thinks I should order so I can try it. I’ve put them aside for later. You and I will have an olive party when I get home. I’m going to make you a total olive convert.”
“Hate olives.” I had to smile. His face was always so expressive. Like I could read the disappointment on it even though he was smiling. He stuck his tongue out at me.
“So…what happens now?” I had to ask because my stomach was full of angry moths and I couldn’t bear this any longer. The uncertainty. The changes. The way nothing was how it should be.
“Now?” He reached under the table, grabbed my hand. I hadn’t realised just how much I’d needed that—to feel his strong grip, the stability.
Things were stable.
“Tonight, I’ll come home,” he said. “And if you’re asleep, I’ll let you sleep. If you’re awake, we’ll talk and eat olives. Then we’ll sleep. If you want to sleep in my bed again, I’d love that. If you feel like you need space? The sofa is yours. And, by the way, I’ll order you a proper bed if you want. We can move the sofa and you can have your own bedroom. Mark is ringing someone who is a plasterer to come and fix the other room. He’s someone Mark once had a thing with and apparently sucks dick like a Hoover.”
The way Ben said that was actually hilarious, like he was a baby saying really bad words.
“So he sucks dickandplasters?”
Ben’s face was purple.
“Yeah. Forget I said that. Mark can be really inappropriate.”
“Mark is hilarious.”
“Yeah.”
