How to Align the Stars

Chapter Nineteen

Bea

Bea’s velvet-trimmed doctoral gown had cost nearly four hundred dollars, and she wondered who on earth had decided to dress faculty in heavy dark fabrics for an outdoor ceremony in hot weather. It was still May, but the morning’s temperature was already approaching ninety degrees. The students looked over-warm, too, in their flimsy, shiny black gowns, but at least they could fan themselves with their mortarboards. Bea’s tam offered no such respite.

Rick was serving as a commencement marshal, as he had every year since before Bea was even a student, so she was the only representative from the astronomy department marching as part of the regular faculty procession. She recognized a little extra applause and a cheer in Len’s voice as she took her seat to the side of the stage. The metal folding chair had been sitting in the sun all morning and when she sat, her robe released a smell of heated polyester, like a garment being ironed.

As the other faculty filed in behind her, she caught a familiar whiff of evergreen, and turned to look over her shoulder. They were seated in two long rows, and the procession had worked out to place Ben directly behind her. At the end of the aisle, she caught Rick’s eye and flattened her mouth in a “seriously?” expression. Rick maintained a straight face in keeping with the solemnity of his duties, but she detected a hint of mischief in his eyes.

At a tap on her shoulder, Bea turned again.

“Hi,” Ben whispered.

“Hi.”

“Here, I brought two.” He handed her a cold bottle of water.

Even holding it was a relief. She ran her chilled fingers over the back of her neck. “Thanks. You’re a lifesaver.”

“I try.”

President Phillips’ speech was focused on accountability and integrity, and Bea suspected it was an intentionally pointed message. Bryant had been elected to give the student address. Amid cheers, he urged his classmates to use their privilege to become agents of change. The guest speaker was a Silicon Valley CEO who had recently published a book on balancing personal and professional fulfillment. Bea kept her face neutral as she listened, thinking it was easy to strike a balance if you had an army of assistants at work and a salary that allowed you to hire household staff.

Still, this past year had made her wonder about her own balance. She’d always been happy living alone, always. Sharing her highs and lows with friends and extended family had been enough. Rick had taken her to a beautiful brunch when her tenure was approved, she’d celebrated with Heron and Sarah, too, and the following Sunday Len and Toni had opened a special bottle of champagne they’d brought back from a winery tour in France. All of that should be enough, and it was.

But, in February, when she’d left the meeting where her science division colleagues discussed their recommendation for her tenure, Ben had been waiting on the bench outside the building, ready to console or congratulate as needed. It was hard to shake the feeling she’d taken the comfort of having someone entirely in her corner, just hers, for granted. She’d thought their fight about Charlie meant he didn’t understand her, but now wondered if he’d simply been unwilling to blindly agree when he truly believed she was wrong. Bea knew her passionate personality could sometimes overwhelm people. Ben deserved credit for not letting her get away with that.

Messiman was small enough that each student could be called in turn to come receive their diploma, as faculty stood in the receiving line to congratulate them. When Charlie’s name was called, there were a few cheers and some clapping, but not as much as she might have expected. Even the SOD house had made a lot more noise for their members with names earlier in the alphabet. Bea was prepared to be gracious when he came to her part of the faculty line, but he brushed past without meeting her eye.

When Heron’s name was called, there was a roar of cheering, mostly women’s voices. Bea knew Heron had kept much to herself during most of her time as a student, but when she forced a partial turn-around of the conduct board’s decision, she’d become something of a folk heroine on campus. A group of students had organized to demand that the changes to the code of conduct and associated procedures be substantial, all due to Heron.

As she approached the stage, Heron’s shy smile opened into a brilliant grin. Pride welled deep within Bea. She’d fretted about Heron all year, first about Charlie’s plans overtaking hers, then about her devastation after the videos. She was still a little worried about Heron’s after-college plans, but Bea was confident she’d be just fine. Here she was, resilient, radiant, accomplished. Whatever she decided to tackle next, she’d be ready.

By the time they got through the rest of the alphabet, Bea’s shoes were pinching her toes. Now that she had tenure maybe she could worry less about dressing the professorial part and start wearing sneakers like Ben. She chuckled a moment, thinking they’d make quite a pair about campus if they started dressing alike, before the pang of remembrance set in. They weren’t a pair anymore.

Finally, finally, Elizabeth Zimmerman made her way down the receiving line, President Phillips made brief closing remarks, caps were thrown high, and they were done.

Heron

After the ceremony, Heron searched for her family in the crowd of black-gowned students and congratulating relatives. She found Bea, Toni, and her mother chatting in the shade in front of the library, then saw her dad coming down the path, holding two bouquets of apricot-colored roses.

“There she is!” said Toni, and they all clapped.

Heron’s dad presented Bea with one of the bunches of flowers, “Your first commencement with full tenure deserves a little fanfare,” he said. Then he enveloped Heron in a hug before presenting her own flowers. “I’m so proud of you, Birdie.”

“Thanks, Dad. I couldn’t have gotten here without you.”

Bea said, “I’m positively braising in this robe. At least I was sitting in the shade. You must be dying, Heron. Let’s take the obligatory photos so we can take this stuff off.”

Len posed them under the oak tree in front of the library, taking shots from several angles before Toni finally said, “Enough,” and pulled collapsible nylon bags for Heron and Bea to put their regalia in, and half-frozen bottles of water for everyone out of her bag.

“You don’t miss a thing,” Bea said.

“She’s a marvel.” Heron’s father beamed at his wife. Felicia smiled limply.

With the robe gone, Heron felt much more comfortable, but Felicia said, “Len, you’re not in any of these pictures. Let me take a couple.”

Ben was ambling toward the library and Heron’s dad called him over. “Take a photo of us all, will you?”

“Sure,” said Ben, accepting the camera. He snapped a few shots.

When he handed the camera back, Toni said, “Are you coming to the party at the winery tonight? You’re more than welcome.”

“Oh,” said Ben, “I don’t want to intrude.”

Heron glanced at Bea, who looked like a deer in headlights, but her cousin couldn’t hide from Ben forever. “Please come,” she said. “Your class was one of my favorites and it won’t be the same without you.”

“I’ll see if I can drop by.”

Heron thought it was Ben’s answer that made Bea’s eyebrows shoot up, but when Toni’s expression also registered surprise, she turned to see what they were looking at. Charlie strode toward their group with purpose, a look of determination on his face, his parents and Emma trailing behind. Her stomach knotted, anticipating some new reprisal or embarrassment. He came to a hard stop, skidding to one knee in front of her, removing a ring box and holding it in front of her in one fluid motion that almost seemed choreographed.

His voice thick, he said, “Heron Hunter, I’m an idiot. I thought I couldn’t look past what happened in March, but now I realize it’s nothing compared to what you are, every part of you—your grace, your strength, your kindness. When I asked you this question before, I didn’t understand what I’d be losing if you said no. Now I do, and I’m not sure I could bear it. Heron Hunter, please be my wife.”

He beamed up at her, the ring he’d demanded she return sparkling in its velvet box. Heron’s stomach unfurled, but immediately twisted itself into a new knot. She hated disappointing people. But what other choice did she have?

She said, “Charlie. I’m so sorry, but I can’t.” She held out a hand to help him up, but he brushed it away, dropping to both knees and inching closer to her. Off-balance, Heron cast a glance around at the crowd that had formed, making eye contact with Bea, who looked like she might break into a nervous laugh, but whose eyes showed genuine concern. Heron knew a gesture would be all it took for her family to physically yank Charlie away, but she also felt confident she could handle this herself, discomforting as it was.

“I know I was wrong, Heron. I know. You have to forgive me. Please. I’ll never doubt you again. I have it all worked out.” He glanced back toward his father. “Dad says we can still use the city apartment. You can do whatever you want, grad school, anything! Don’t we both deserve a second chance?”

It would be so easy, wouldn’t it? One word from her and this spring could just be a hiccup, a small interruption before they continued down the path they’d been on. But that path wasn’t leading anywhere she still wanted to go.

Heron stepped backward. “Charlie. No.”

He shook his head as if he couldn’t quite believe he’d heard her correctly. He dropped back, sitting on his heels.

“What?”

“No. I’m sorry.”

Charlie’s family looked on. Mrs. Brewster appeared to have indigestion, Mr. Brewster looked impatient, Emma uncomfortable.

Heron’s own family’s reactions were different. Bea’s face was now an open book of complete disdain, Toni’s mouth hung slightly open, her father looked like he was barely containing his rage, and her mother’s brow furrowed with worry.

“But…you said you can’t live without me.”

She wished he’d stand up. “Well,” she said, “I tried it, and it turns out I can.”

“You need me.”

“Son.” Mr. Brewster gestured for Charlie to stand. A crowd had formed around them when Charlie took a knee, their classmates drawn to the spectacle like moths to a flame.

“No,” she said, “you need me. I don’t want that, Charlie. I’ve had a lot of time to think this spring. I’m not sure you ever loved me. You loved the idea of me. Maybe I loved the idea of you. Right now, what I need is to be on my own for a while. I miss you, but I’m a better person without you. If I ever get married, it will be to someone I can trust not to deliberately hurt me. That’s never going to be you.”

Charlie hoisted himself to his feet. “I can’t believe you’re doing this to me in front of everyone. You’ve ruined my graduation.”

Hisgraduation? What about hers? She wasn’t going to let him ruin this for her. “Sorry. But I didn’t choose the setting.”

“Fine,” Charlie hissed. He slapped the ring box shut and thrust it at his mother, who tucked it into her purse with a satisfied smile.

Charlie and his parents strode away, but Emma lingered a moment, nudging Heron with a shoulder, “Nicely done,” she said. “I told him he was a fool to let you go and he owed you an apology. I didn’t think that meant he’d try to get you back. But you know Charlie.”

“Yeah, I guess I do.”

“If you’re in New York next year after all, look me up. We’ll get a drink.”

“I’ll be in Seattle next year.” Heron smiled. “But I’ll keep in touch.”

“What’s this?”

Whoops. The surprise in her father’s voice reminded Heron she’d been keeping her plans to herself until now.

“I was going to tell you later, Dad. I’ll be moving to Seattle in July. I have an apartment picked out already,” she looked pointedly at Felicia, not wanting her mother to assume she planned to live with her again. “And I’m taking the LSAT in June.” She’d been consistently scoring near 170 on practice tests, and with her GPA admission was a pretty sure thing. All that work helping Charlie had paid off, apparently. Everything she had been through this spring had Heron thinking she should explore family law or policy work. When she imagined herself five years down this path, it felt right to her in a way all the other futures she’d considered—even marriage with Charlie—hadn’t. She’d missed the cutoff for fall admissions but could build her savings up in the meantime.

“Wow,” said Toni.

Bea applauded. “I couldn’t be prouder of you, Bird.”

“Do you have a job figured out?” asked Felicia.

“That’s a good point, sweetie,” her father said. “I still have a little money set aside for tuition, but you’ll need to help cover living expenses.”

“I’ve got something lined up.”

Lucy from the bridal shop had been impressed with Heron’s work on her gown and needed part-time help. It would be mostly weekends and evenings, which would work with her class schedule, and she might eventually even be able to take some dresses home to work on them during breaks from studying.

She grinned at her surprised family, “I guess I can’t keep a secret too well.”

Her mother took a tentative step toward the parking area, “I should get on the road if I want to beat the traffic over the pass.”

“I wish you could stay a little longer, Mom.”

“Sorry, sweetie, I have work in the morning. Besides, it sounds like we’ll be neighbors pretty soon.”

“Sure.” Heron had intentionally chosen an apartment near the university rather than in Felicia’s neighborhood. She’d be happy to see her mother every once in a while, but wasn’t sure yet how much she wanted her mom to figure into her day-to-day. Ever since spring break, she had been thinking about what Felicia said about leaving because she couldn’t stand her life anymore. Heron understood what Felicia was trying to tell her, but it would take some time to come to terms with the idea that she had been part of the life her mother couldn’t bear. It would always be complicated between them. That was okay, but she would need to set the terms of her relationship with her mother carefully.

Bea

“We’ve got to go set up for the party,” Len said. “Can we drop you at home, Bea?”

“I’ll walk. I have a couple of things to take care of in my office. See you later.”

Ben was still lingering on the steps of the library. He flagged her down as she passed. His robe was unzipped and he wore a Sub Pop t-shirt and his usual sneakers and jeans. He’d trimmed his beard drastically, but he needed a haircut. An unruly wave pooched out above his ear, and she resisted the urge to reach over and tuck it back.

“Hey, listen,” he said. “I’m not gonna come to the party tonight. Heron will be so swept up in people congratulating her she won’t even notice I’m not there.”

Bea waved his words away. “Come. She wants you there. Besides, we’re supposed to be friends now, right? A friend would come.”

“I’ll see. Maybe.”

“It’ll be a great party, you know.” She considered offering him a ride, but that would be too much, too like old times, and bit her lip. Then she thought to hell with it, and said, “Do you need a ride?”

At the same time, Ben said, “Are you bringing Owen?”

She laughed. “Ah, no. That didn’t work out.”

“I’m sorry to hear. He seems like a nice guy.”

“He is a nice guy. But—” She’d been about to tell Ben there hadn’t been a spark with Owen. Admitting that to Sarah was one thing, but to Ben? Too much information. She pivoted mid-sentence, and asked instead, “Did he really come to your poker night?”

“Oh, yeah. I cleaned him out in the last pot, actually. He shook my hand. Last time I did that to Kevin he flipped the card table.”

“Sounds about right.”

“Anyway, if I can make it, I’ll call a car.”

“If you’re sure. I’d better run. I extended the final paper deadline for a couple of students and need to make sure they’re turned in. I’ll see you later, maybe.” She started down the path toward the science building.

“Hey, Bea?” he called after her and she turned. “I lied.”

“What?”

“I lied. I’m not sorry it didn’t work out with Owen.”

Bea heard the words, but he was too far away for her to make out the expression on his face. She didn’t reply, just turned around and continued toward her office. Despite herself, and despite her pinchy shoes, her step was a bit lighter.

As she went up the stairs, she was thinking about what Heron said to Charlie about not needing him. She’d gotten so comfortable with Ben over the winter, and everything felt so right and so wonderful, when they’d argued it was too much, too scary. Especially on top of seeing Heron comprehensively devastated by the person who was supposed to love her. If Bea was being completely honest with herself, she had been intentionally contrary that night, testing Ben to see where his loyalties lay. Of all the emotions she’d been having, anger at him was the easiest to express so she’d let herself be carried away by it. When his response wasn’t perfect it was a good enough excuse for her to end things before she got in any deeper.

Before he broke her heart.

Well, wasn’t that a bitch?

If Bea had as much faith in herself as much as she presumed to, she had to trust that she was worthy of unconditional love. But because she hadn’t honestly believed herself lovable in that way, she hadn’t believed in Ben’s feelings for her, which had screwed things up for both of them. The question was, what to do about it now?

While she reeled from this lightbulb moment, Bea switched on her computer and checked her inbox. The overdue papers were in. Good. The last thing she wanted to do today was try to track down a student or give them a zero grade.

Then she clicked over to social media. Bea didn’t follow many people, so Heron’s post from the morning was still near the top of her feed. The caption said: Congratulations to all my friends graduating today! Let the stars be your beacon. XO.

She’d posted a set of images for different signs of the Zodiac, omitting, Bea noticed with satisfaction, Gemini—Charlie’s sign. The square for Bea’s sign, said:

SCORPIO: A new phase is about to begin. You like to hold on to things but try releasing them and let something new grow in their place. What is meant to endure will stay with you.

Honestly. What the hell did that even mean?

Bea stewed about it all the way home, finding herself sweaty enough from the walk on the baking sidewalks that she needed to freshen up for the party. She came to her decision in the shower. She owed Ben an apology, regardless. It was simply the right thing to do. If he showed up tonight, she would ask him if he’d be willing to try again. If he didn’t come, she could interpret his absence as a statement of his boundaries, and she would respect them. She’d send him a note telling him she was sorry, but she wouldn’t press for more.

So that was it, she’d leave it up to Ben, or to the universe or whatever. As she dressed, she thrummed with nervous energy, unsure whether she was hoping he would show up, or hoping he wouldn’t.

Heron

The winery terrace was bathed in early evening sun, which had begun to slant over the vineyards. As Heron walked toward the party, she couldn’t banish the thought that she had intended to make this walk as a bride. It would have been a dream wedding, with the ceremony among the trellises and the reception on the patio in the warm twilight. But now the idea seemed completely strange to her. Heron didn’t fully understand how she had gone from despair about her broken engagement to contentment with her own company in the space of two months. Maybe it was the way she’d begun to form a picture of what marriage to Charlie would have been like—suspicion and inaccurate expectations of who she was gradually outweighing the fun and the sweet gestures he was so good at. She’d become so focused on the fairy tale, she hadn’t seen the darker subtext of their story. If she looked at things through a certain lens, Jason had done her a favor.

A few guests had arrived so far; Bea, Maggie and her family, Bryant with his parents and little sisters, who flitted around Maggie vying for her attention.

“Before more people arrive,” her dad said, “I’d like to have a toast with a special vintage. Heron, would you do the honors?” He pulled a bottle out of the ice bucket and presented it to her. It had to be his special reserve pinot gris, but he’d changed the label from what they’d discussed last fall. The name of the edition, “Wings,” swirled across the top and the art was a drawing Heron had done in sixth grade; a girl, aloft, with broad fierce wings spread on either side of her, twice as big as she was. She remembered her teacher scoring the assignment badly because she had been meant to draw a realistic self-portrait. Heron had been indignant because she’d drawn herself exactly as she felt. A girl whose family called her Bird, unafraid of heights. It had taken her a long time to get back to feeling that way again.

“I love it, Dad. It’s perfect.” She tipped her head back to keep the happy tears that had sprung to her eyes from running down her cheeks and ruining her mascara before the party even got going. She uncorked the bottle and her father poured it into glasses, which Bea and Toni passed out.

Len held his glass up. “I don’t want to get maudlin, so I’ll keep this short and simple. Heron, I am so proud of everything you’ve accomplished this year. Parenting isn’t easy. You want to protect your kid from anything that might hurt them, but you can’t. I’ll always be here for you, but this year you have proven you have the strength to thrive even when others are trying to tear you down. I believe you can do anything, honey. And you will.”

“Hear hear!” said Bea, raising her glass.

Before anyone could drink, Heron raised her own glass and said, “I want to thank you all for supporting me this year. Knowing I had people behind me who believed in me and loved me unconditionally got me through. Thank you. And congratulations to Maggie and Bryant, too.”

“To all the graduates!” said Toni.

The wine was dry and crisp, a refreshing kiss of acid and citrus on her lips. It tasted…hopeful, and it was perfect for her and for the day.

The DJ started the music as the rest of the guests began to arrive. A few faculty members, family friends, and more of Heron’s newly graduated classmates, their families in tow.

Heron had the same conversation several times with the older party guests about her plans for the next year. At a certain point, her conversation partner’s eyes would begin to glaze over, and they’d say something like “That’s wonderful, dear,” and drift away.

Bryant’s mother, however, was the exception. “I think it’s interesting,” she said, “you don’t mention money or prestige when you talk about being an attorney.”

Heron felt her cheeks flush. “Financial security is nice, but I guess I’m more interested in the work. I’d also considered social work and I see practicing law, the way I would like to, as more of an extension of that. A different way to help people.”

“I see,” said Ms. Hardy. “Why don’t you call me when you’re ready for an internship? I’m at Sampson Climp Peterson’s Seattle office. I’d love to have someone like you on my team.”

“Wow. Thanks. I’ll definitely call you.” Of course, she had a lot of hard work ahead of her before she was ready for an internship, but Heron felt entirely up to the challenge. She was looking forward to it.

Bea

Bea scanned the party from her perch near the kitchen door, where she’d been helping Toni keep an eye on the buffet to see what needed to be restocked. The food was going fast, appetites returning as the heat of the day waned.

Heron flitted from group to group, making small talk and accepting congratulations. Bea was impressed by her poise and self-assuredness. This was the first time in years she’d seen Heron able to sparkle on her own in a social setting. She’d gotten so used to seeing her glued to Charlie’s side like an accessory.

She was also looking for Ben. No sign of him yet, an hour into the party. Well, there was her answer. She was…relieved? Yeah. Relieved. Things seemed to be good between them the way they were now, the way they always should have been. Friendly, cordial, collegial. But surely, he would be here if he had any interest in rekindling their relationship.

Sarah was here though, finally, fresh from work, waving from the other side of the party. Bea slid off her bar stool and began weaving her way over to join her friend.

She was trying to squeeze around a cluster of Maggie’s sorority sisters when she heard, somewhere to her left, “Hey, do you know where we can put gifts?” and she turned toward the voice. Ben. His hair was still damp, curling around his collar, and he wore faded jeans and his ubiquitous sneakers, but also an olive-green rumpled cotton shirt that brought out the mossy colors in his eyes. He’d pushed his sunglasses up on his head so they held his hair back—he really did need a haircut.

Her responding “Hey,” came out like a sigh, then she caught her breath and said, “Inside. I’ll show you.”

As they walked, she said, “You didn’t have to bring anything, you know. Heron will just be so happy you came.”

“I wanted to.” He held up what he was carrying to show her, a book. It was unwrapped except for a blue satin ribbon, so she could clearly see the title, “Vogue Pattern Book, February-March 1959.” A woman in a shamrock-green suit smiled from the cover.

“She’ll love it.”

“I bought it in February,” he said with a small smile. “I meant for it to be a birthday gift, but then you and I weren’t talking in April and, well…awkward.”

“Yep,” she said. She led him through the doors of the tasting room, and the chill of the air-conditioned building hit them like a wall. When the door swung closed the chatter of the party reduced to a murmur. It was just the two of them in here, the cool, empty room providing a stark contrast to the sunny hum of the party. If she didn’t take the chance to say her piece now, she would always regret being a coward.

Ben spoke before she did. “Sorry I was late. I had a hard time getting a car.”

She took the book from his hands and put it on the table with the other gifts. “Yeah. Graduation weekend. That’s why I tried to give you a ride.”

“I figured you were being nice.”

“You should know better.”

“I do.” He chuckled.

And here they were, falling into their old pattern. It would be so easy to breeze back out to the party, go their separate ways. But she’d hate herself tomorrow if she let that happen.

“Hey, listen, can we talk a minute?”

“Sure.”

Bea went behind the counter and poured them each a glass of pinot gris while Ben watched, his expression a question. He eased onto one of the stools and she came around to sit, angled toward him, one stool between them for a buffer.

“I wanted to explain about what happened in April,” she said. “It was awful—”

“Agreed, but—”

She held up a hand. “Please let me finish or I won’t get through this. I was so shocked and hurting so much for Heron and angry on my own behalf, too. And I think I saw you as a member of Charlie’s team in a way that wasn’t fair to you, or accurate.” He opened his mouth to speak again, and she stopped him with a look. “I know. I was too stuck in my own head and not paying attention to what you were actually saying or doing. I took things out on you that you shouldn’t have been held accountable for. Please accept my apology.”

They sat in silence for a moment before Ben said, “Oh. I can talk now?”

Her “Yes,” came out accompanied by a nervous laugh.

“I thought you should have known I was on your side. And Heron’s.”

She grimaced. “I know. Sorry.”

“I was getting to be part of this family and it felt so nice, and then suddenly I was an outsider again. I felt like you didn’t really see what I was doing or saying, you saw what you expected me to do and say, in a way that didn’t seem reasonable.”

“Yeah.” She looked down into her wine.

“So, you’re right, it wasn’t fair.”

“Yes. I know. I’m sorry.” For the first time, it occurred to her that he must have had a lonely spring, too.

Ben said, “I accept your apology. I have one to make, too.”

Bea met his eyes, hoping her expression was open in a way that told him she was ready to hear whatever he had to say.

He continued. “I knew you needed space, deep down, I think. After that first argument, I knew still being at your place when you got home from dinner might send you over the edge, but I guess I felt I deserved acknowledgement of what I was trying to do to help. I picked that fight.”

She laughed. “Oh no, my friend. I’m pretty sure I picked that fight.”

“Maybe it was mutually picked. Anyway, I certainly didn’t expect it to end things. Couples fight sometimes, Bea, they don’t always see things the same way. As much as we had silly little disagreements, it was our first real fight and you went nuclear.”

Bea took a deep breath. This was her opportunity. “I know. So, that’s the other thing I wanted to say to you. I’ve been thinking, since I heard what Heron said to Charlie today about how she didn’t need him anymore. In March, everything seemed like it was happening so fast. I was scared to lean on you when things were so awful, scared of…developing a dependence? I’d just seen that completely wreck Heron. And I guess maybe I felt like I needed to go cold turkey.”

“I see. It’s not entirely flattering to be compared to an addictive substance.”

“But today I was thinking, I never needed you.”

“Thanks?”

“I wanted you. I can do anything I need to do on my own.”

“No doubt.” He raised his glass and drank.

“But sometimes it’s more fun when there’s someone else around. And better if that person makes the hard things easier.” That wasn’t all, because while Ben did make things easier for her, he also challenged her. Didn’t let her get away with anything. “The way you see through all of my bullshit, Ben, I didn’t think I would like that. And sometimes it does piss me right off.”

He chuckled in assent.

“But it’s good for me. You’re good for me. It wasn’t easy to admit, even to myself, but knowing you see me as I am and you…still like me…means everything.”

“Yeah.” A slow, easy smile spread across his face. “I still like you.”

This was the point of no return. If she asked and he said no, could she live with it? She could, but she’d really, really rather not have to. Her stomach dropped, and she pushed the words out as quickly as possible before she lost her nerve. “Can we try again?”

The tiny muscles under his eyes tightened as he considered her question. She kept talking. Now that the dam had burst, she couldn’t seem to stop. “I know I can be prickly, and I’m certain we’ll fight again, but I’ve missed you so much and I think we made a mistake and everything good that happens seems less good without you and—”

“Bea.” Ben scooted over onto the stool between them, closing the distance.

“What?”

“Shut up.” Turned toward each other on stools meant to face forward, their legs pressed together so it was easy for Ben to slide his hand onto her hip as the other one tangled in her hair and pulled her face toward his. When their lips met, it felt like coming home after a long journey.

Several minutes later she straightened her dress and smoothed her hair, and said, “So, that’s a yes, then?”

Ben’s shrug was slow, exaggerated, infuriating, adorable. “Sure. I’m a glutton for punishment.”

She balled up the cocktail napkin she’d been using to fix her lipstick and threw it at his face, but he caught it and shoved it into his pocket. He extended a hand and asked, “Shall we?”

Bea was fully prepared to offer a sheepish explanation for their reconciliation when they returned to the party arm in arm, but none of her loved ones seemed the slightest bit surprised to see them together.