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He also looks alotmore attractive. Which isn’t remotely relevant to me. I mean,obviously. But still: California obviously agrees with him. Either that, or being a sneaky little rat who steals people’s money does.
Which suddenly makes him seem much more like his old self again.
“So, tell me, then,” I say, shuffling uncomfortably on the wooden picnic bench. “You got my attention. Jack isn’t here. Tell me why you’re so sure he’s been lying to me. And then you can tell me about the money. And Rose. And whatever else has apparently been going on without me having the slightest clue about it.”
“It’s all part of the same story, actually,” Ben says, looking down at his hands. “I’ve known Rose for a while. I met her back in London, a few years ago. And I … well, I kind of got mixed up in something. So did she.”
“Wait.” A thought even more awful than the ones I’d previously been having about what Ben might possibly have been up to that had made him have to skip town so suddenly strikes me. “Are you trying to tell me you and Rose were together? Were you cheating on me with my sister-in-law?”
This isn’t quite fair, obviously. When I was with Ben, I didn’t know Jack; which means Rose wasn’t even close to being my sister-in-law.
Not that she seems any closer to that right now, mind you.
I shake off the thought of Jack, who’s probably on his way to the airport by now, still angry with me about everything that happened on the boat, and concentrate on Ben.
“God, no,” he splutters, looking appalled. “Is that what you thought? That I was cheating on you? No, Emerald. No. I’d never have cheated on you. Not for anything. I loved you. I really did. And I know I wasn’t always good at showing it, but I’d never have done anything to hurt you. Well, not intentionally, anyway. You have to believe me on that.”
“O…kaaay.” I swallow, not knowing quite what to say to this. As it happens, the idea that Ben might have met someone elsehadoccurred to me. Of course it had. It was Frankie’s favorite theory, in fact. (McTavish’s was that Ben had witnessed a crime and been forced to go into witness protection. I’m starting to think he might have been onto something, for once.)
Even if Benhadbeen cheating on me, though, the fact is, it wouldn’t have bothered me nearly as much as it should have. I mean, sure, I’d have been angry and upset — to start with. I’m not sure I’d have beenheartbroken, though, the way I would be if it was Jack.
If Jack did what Ben did to me — whether he was cheating or not — it would, without a doubt, break my heart. I’m not sure I’d ever get over it, or if I’d just slowly fade away, like an old photo that’s been left out in the sun. When Ben left, though, I didn’t fade away. Actually, I got stronger, and more vibrant, as if his absence had given me permission to finally be me. And my heart was not broken. It wasn’t even maimed.
Which makes the fact that he’s just told me how much he loved me just ever so slightly awkward, really.
“So, if you weren’t cheating with Rose, whatwereyou doing?” I ask, deciding to focus on this part for now. “How did you get to know her?”
Ben looks uncomfortable.
“Gambling,” he says, speaking as if he’s confessing to murder. Which is probably roughly what it feels like to him, to be fair. Heisan accountant, after all. Or hewas.
“Gambling?” I’m honestly a little disappointed — and I know McTavish will be, for sure, because of all of the soap-opera worthy solutions to the ‘What happened to Ben’ question we’d discussed, the idea of him being a secret gambler just didn’t get a look in. “You got involved ingambling?”
“Yeah.” He looks up at me, his eyes very blue in the dying light. “What can I say?” he mutters weakly. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“A good idea? Toyou?”
I snort, trying to reconcile the Ben I once dated with this man who thought gambling “seemed like a good idea”.
“I know how that sounds,” he says defensively. “But there was this guy at work. He used to go to these poker nights, and he invited me along to one of them.”
I nod, vaguely remembering him going on nights out with colleagues from time to time. I was quite pleased, like a mum whose extremely shy child has finally made a friend.
But just what kind of ‘friends’ was Ben making?
The guy running the thing was Rose’ boyfriend,” Ben goes on. “Dean, his name was. I didn’t know it at the time, but he’s quite well known in … certain circles.”
“Certain ‘circles’?Illegalcircles, you mean?” My brain’s still frantically trying to adjust to the idea ofBen, of all people, being involved in an illegal gambling ring. Or I’m pretty sure that’s what he’s saying this was, anyway. It’s a bit like finding out your granny was a pole dancer in her youth, or that the local vicar is active on the swinging scene. Only this, of course, is much worse, because Ben was always much more straight-laced than either of those people. (And, to be fair, my grannydidhave a great pair of legs on her, as she never tired of pointing out.)
“Well, yeah.” He shrugs, as if this should be obvious. “Gambling, drugs, petty crime… they all kind of go together, don’t they?”
I gape at him, astonished.
So we started with gambling, and now we’re on to drugs and petty crime?
Who evenisthis guy?
“I didn’t get involved with any of that stuff,” Ben says hurriedly. “Like I said, I didn’t even know about it to start with. I just thought it was going to be a poker night. You know, like on TV?”
