Chapter 27
27
The day after I agree to take on Taylor’s case, she comes into the bakery with a binder full of evidence. Surprising no one, it turns out her ex really is a dick. I want to punch him in the balls for his overall audacity, but I’ll settle for making him cry in court.
Two days after that, Emma fires me.
Okay, it’s not so much a firing, but a gentle push out the front door with my promises to devote my full attention to Taylor’s case. Emma has always seen me clearer than I’ve seen myself, but even I can admit this go around that she’s right.
It might not be the way things were “supposed” to turn out, but helping the women of Heart Springs get theirs has become something I’m legitimately passionate about, and something I don’t want to turn away from.
The morning after I get fired, I still wake up and go to the bakery first thing. But I don’t put on my apron and hop behind the counter. Instead, I grab a pastry and a coffee, give Emma a hug, and head back home, where I’ve spread out the contents of Taylor’s binder across my kitchen table. It’s not exactly the corner office of my old life, but for now, it will have to do. An hour later, when I get up to use the bathroom, I find a new doorway, leading to an office space. It’s sparse, but comfortable, and once I move all the materials Taylor brought me, it’s the perfect space.
I work throughout the entire day, making notes and reading until my eyes sting and compiling a list of questions I have for Taylor. I don’t stop until Ben physically removes the pen from my hand, guides me out of my chair, and takes me next door to his place for dinner.
He pours us each a glass of red wine and dishes up plates of spaghetti. Both are delicious, and I sigh with pleasure when the first bite of garlic bread hits my tongue.
Ben watches me with a bemused smile on his face. “Good day at the office?”
I roll my eyes, but there’s no true annoyance in the motion. “I got a lot accomplished if that’s what you’re asking.”
He swirls a bite of pasta on his fork. “I was mostly asking if you enjoyed yourself.”
“I mean, it’s hard to enjoy a day buried in paperwork.” Even as I say it, I know it’s a lie, because I did in fact enjoy my day. Yes, there were moments that were exhausting and some that were even frustrating, but at the end of it, I felt good. Content. Happy with the work I’d put in.
Ben, of course, can read me like a freaking book at this point. “Happiness looks good on you, sweetheart.”
I decide not to argue with him for once. “Thanks, babe.”
After dinner we move to the couch with our second glasses of wine. Ben turns on the TV, though we both know we won’t be paying much attention to whatever movie we’re stuck watching today.
I tuck myself into his side, nuzzling farther into his warmth when his fingers twine in my hair. The soothing motion of his hands in my hair almost puts me to sleep, but there’s still wine to finish, so I force my eyes to stay open.
“Ben?” I mutter, my voice laden with sleep and wine and an overwhelming feeling of peace.
“Hmm?”
“Do you think that we might be wasting our time trying to find our way back home? Are we better off at this point just accepting that this is where we belong?”
His fingers stop, his hand dropping to my shoulder as I pull away just enough so I can look at him, read the response on his face. “Do you really want that, sweetheart? To be stuck here forever, never seeing your home or your family again?”
I shrug, hiding my discomfort with another sip of wine. “Does it make me a terrible person if I admit I don’t really miss my family all that much?”
He sets his wineglass on the coffee table and shifts so he’s facing me. “It doesn’t make you a terrible person, Cam. I know life with them wasn’t exactly easy for you. But they’re still your family. Don’t you think they miss you?”
“I don’t actually know, which sort of makes me think they probably don’t. What I do know is that if I were to go home, I would miss everyone here. Emma, of course, and Mimi.” I take another long gulp. “And you.”
Ben reaches for my hand, lacing our fingers together. “I fully stand by my theory that we will remember everything that happened here. But I understand how you would miss everyone else. And miss the town. I will too.”
“And, I know you already know this, but just sit here quietly and let me have this moment of discovery, okay?”
He mimes zipping his lips and throwing away the key.
“I like what I’m doing here. With Emma, and Anna, and Taylor. I like using the skills I’ve been practicing my whole life for good instead of evil. I like that I’m making a difference in these women’s lives.” Fuck, it feels good to say that out loud.
Ben’s smile is knowing but not smug. “You know you could do something similar when we get home.”
I shake my head, finishing my wine and setting the glass down next to Ben’s. “I don’t see how. My whole life is working for my family. I don’t see how I could possibly break away from that.”
“You can do anything you set your mind to, sweetheart.”
“Except get out of here, it seems.”
Ben shrugs. “Maybe part of the problem is that you don’t truly want to get out of here. Maybe it’s easier to stay here than to change the things that were making you unhappy in your real life.”
“Okay I’m going to need you to take it down like twelve notches.”
He smiles my favorite smile, the one that’s a little lopsided. “Too perceptive?”
“Always.”
And he might be right, though I’ll never voice those words out loud. Maybe it is easier for me to stay here where everything is easy than attempt to go home and deal with thirty-four years of family trauma. I shudder just thinking about a heart to heart with my grandmother that ends with her thinking I’m nothing but a disappointment. And an indescribable sadness presses down on my chest when I think about picking up the phone and calling my mom. I think she and I need to have a long conversation. I think I might have seriously misunderstood so many things about our relationship.
Ben scoots closer to me, taking my cheek in his hand, his fingers clutching the nape of my neck and bringing our lips together. “Whatever you decide, Cam, you know I’m right there with you.”
“But you think we should still try to get back home.” It’s not a question, because I already know his answer.
“I think that as happy as we are here, you could be even happier if you find a way to have your family in your life, even if it’s not the way you once would have thought. Think about the kind of life we could build together.”
I listen to his advice—really I do—but when the thought of facing my family on the other side of this starts to fester in my brain, I climb into his lap instead. “I think that’s enough talking for one evening.”
“Well, you’re not going to get any arguments from me there, sweetheart.”
—
The calendar that only seems to operate on Heart Springs time keeps on ticking until finally we arrive at Christmas Eve. It feels like we’ve been prepping for the holiday for months, something that would have driven me crazy in my real life. But here, I find myself relishing all the moments of winter wonderland cheer. I might even be sad when it’s all over.
As soon as it gets dark outside on Christmas Eve, Ben and I bundle up and stroll hand in hand to the town square. Everyone is gathered around the tree, waiting for the lights to turn on. Carolers are singing, and really, the whole thing couldn’t be more idyllic.
As beautiful as it is, I don’t look too closely at the tree. I still haven’t found my special ornament, and the whole thing feels like an all too familiar slight. But Ben walks us right up to the edge, getting us a front-row seat to the tree lighting. Even though the tree is lit every night, tonight’s ceremonial lighting is the one the whole town has gathered for.
Emma and Ethan nudge in right next to us, their smiles bright and their arms linked.
I lean over to give Emma an unprompted hug, mostly because I miss the smell of baked goods and it seems to be permanently embedded in her skin. She grips me tightly in return. “I miss you too, Cam.”
Pulling away with a grimace, I hold up my hands in retreat. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Let’s not get carried away. I mostly just miss your lattes, is all.”
“Uh-huh.” She loves me enough not to press the matter further.
I take a second to look at the people circled around the tree. I make eye contact with several, all of whom offer me smiles and waves, all of which I return. Even Kate the wedding planner doesn’t seem totally unhappy to see me.
After a rousing rendition of “Jingle Bells,” Mimi steps up to flip the oversized switch that powers the tree lights. They come to life in a burst of color and everyone gasps like we haven’t all seen the same sight for weeks now.
But I guess it doesn’t really matter how often you see it; it is a magical feeling when the lights first blink on, brightening not just the tree but the faces of the crowd around it.
“Hey, sweetheart.” Ben nudges my elbow, drawing my attention from the glittery star at the top of the tree. “Check out that new ornament.”
My eyes immediately fly to where he’s pointing and my breath catches in my chest. There is indeed a new ornament, now visible thanks to the lights shining upon it. It’s one of those ones we used to make as kids out of popsicle sticks. The kind my grandmother refused to display on her professionally decorated tree. This one is in the shape of an angel, with yellow yarn on top of her head and a wide red smile on her face. But the most spectacular thing about this angel is her dress. It’s made up of a collage of photographs—and though I’ve never once seen a camera in Heart Springs, I don’t stop to question how they were acquired. Because each photo is tied to me, in some way. There’s one of Emma and me in front of the bakery. One of Anna holding the key to the toy store. One of me sitting on the ledge over the dunk tank.
And my favorite, one of me and Ben during our dance at the fundraiser.
It would be impossible to try to stem the tears welling in my eyes, so I let them flow down my cheeks, not even worrying about mascara tracks because certainly such a thing doesn’t exist here in this perfect little town.
“It’s beautiful,” I finally manage to choke out.
Ben hands me a tissue and wraps me in his arms. “Almost as beautiful as you.”
By the time I free myself from his embrace, wiping hastily at my eyes, the crowd around us has dissipated.
“Ready to go home?” Ben asks.
I don’t really want to leave just yet, content to stand here and stare at the beautiful tree and my perfect ornament for the rest of the night.
“I’ll give you your present…” Ben knows just the thing to tempt me.
We don’t rush, waving happy holidays at everyone we pass. When we get back to my place, Ben pours us each a glass of wine and we settle in front of the tree.
“You first,” I say, handing him a flat rectangular package.
“My, my, my, how selfless of you.” Ben shoots me a wink before ripping through the paper like the Tasmanian Devil.
I watch his face closely for his reaction, and my heart warms when I see the genuine smile tug on his lips. I struggled to find the perfect gift for him because what does one get for the man who truly has no needs and doesn’t ever express his wants beyond wanting me to be happy? In general, I love that for me, but it did make the gift-buying process difficult.
But I came across the perfect thing one day at one of the little shops in town. It’s a small canvas, painted with the town’s main street. It captures not only the buildings and the people, but somehow also the warmth and the love that radiate from this special place.
“This is amazing, Cam. I love it.” He leans in to kiss me, still holding the painting in his hands.
I give him ten more seconds of enjoying his present before I clap my hands together. “My turn.”
Ben drags a large box out from under the tree and sits back with a proud smile.
I tear into the paper with even more fervor than Ben, ripping off the lid of the box underneath and digging through the tissue paper. My hand hits smooth leather and I pull out the gift with a bit of a pit in my stomach.
It’s a bag. A beautiful bag, the leather a honey brown and supple and smooth, the clasps gold and elegant. It’s the perfect size to carry all my files for the legal work I’ve taken on.
And it looks just like the bag I used every day back at home.
“You don’t like it?” Ben seems confused by my silence, probably because it’s an uncommon occurrence.
“No, I love it, Ben. It’s gorgeous. It’s perfect.” I run my fingers over the front of it, marveling at the similarities. “It’s just, this bag is just like one I used to have back home. I used it every day. My grandmother got it for me when I graduated from law school.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
I carefully place the bag back in the box before I lean in to press a soft kiss to his lips. “Don’t be sorry. Clearly you know exactly what I like.”
“I didn’t mean to get you something that would make you sad.”
“You didn’t, I promise.”
And I’m not lying, because I’m not sad. I’m just confused. Seeing that ornament up on the tree all but cemented my decision to stay here in Heart Springs. That kind of love and acceptance is something I’ve never really felt before and I found it tonight, in the town square, surrounded by my friends. The kind of friends who are just as good as family.
But seeing the bag brings a wave of homesickness, something I haven’t felt here in a really long time. Something I didn’t think I was ever going to feel again once I decided to make Heart Springs my home.
And so I lose myself in Ben’s kiss, rather than try to parse out my feelings further. He follows my lead, pulling me into his arms and opening to me. He rolls me to my back, holding his weight over me as his mouth trails down my neck. I wrap my arms around his waist and tug until he covers me fully, pressing me into the soft fabric of the rug in front of the tree.
He unbuttons my cardigan—who would’ve thought I’d ever wear a fucking cardigan—and slips it from my shoulders. I tug his sweater over his head, relishing in his groan as my fingers trace over the planes of his torso. His mouth moves from my neck to my collarbone and down to my chest. He lingers there, his eyes locked not on the red lace, but on the center of my chest, where my heart thrums an impossibly frantic beat.
He kisses the space between my breasts softly and reverently and it’s too much. He’s too much, and too good. I unhook my bra and toss it to the far corner of the room, and Ben’s pupils widen in response, like he’s never seen anything as miraculous as my tits, though he sees them literally every night.
Sensing my impatience, he makes quick work of trailing his mouth down my stomach, to the button of my jeans. He unsnaps it quickly, frees me from the denim just as fast, but once he’s perched between my thighs, his pace slows. He kisses me through my lace panties and the brief contact makes me gasp. I try to move the fabric, but he captures both of my hands in one of his, keeping me from messing with his plan to torture me.
And torture me he does. He tongues me through the fabric, and the lace is just open enough for me to feel the slightest hint of pressure. It’s exquisite and electrifying and simply not enough. He drives me to the brink, the fluttering of his tongue and the slickness of his mouth giving me everything except that one thing I need.
My thighs tighten around his head, and I choke on my plea. “Ben, please.”
His hand releases mine, and his fingers tug the sopping lace to the side. When his tongue finally makes contact with my clit, the moan that escapes me is guttural and borderline mortifying, but I’m too far gone to care. I’m coming before he even slips his fingers inside me and the orgasm doesn’t stop as he strokes into me.
I finally have to guide his mouth away from me when it all becomes too much, the sensitivity overtaking me. I practically rip the blasted panties from my body, and Ben, being the smart man that he is, frees himself of his jeans and boxer briefs.
He pushes into me with one sharp thrust that leaves us both breathless.
He moves maddeningly slowly inside me at first, rocking his hips so with each thrust his pelvic bone brushes against my still sensitive clit. I spur him on, grabbing his ass so he knows to go harder and faster. His mouth finds mine and we careen over the cliff together, every part of us mingling, tangling, so closely woven together I don’t know that we can ever come apart.
It takes several minutes for our heartbeats to slow, our bodies to disengage, our kisses to soften.
I look at Ben, really look at him, and wonder how I could even for one second think there is anything missing in my life here. Because when I have him, I have everything.
He pulls out of me with a groan and hops up from the rug, reaching a hand down to help pull me up. “Come on, we’re too old to fall asleep on the floor.”
I scoff, knowing he’s absolutely right. “Speak for yourself.”
We go through our nightly routine, showering and brushing teeth and climbing into bed. It’s domestic but not boring, and I relish every minute of it. Ben drifts off to sleep basically the moment the covers are tucked around us, but for once, I don’t immediately join him.
Ben stays sound asleep, despite my tossing and turning, until I finally can’t lie there for another second. I carefully slide out of bed so as not to disturb him, closing the bedroom door behind me.
I curl up under a blanket on the couch, reaching for a book Ben has left on the coffee table. If one of his boring medical books can’t put me to sleep, I don’t know what can. I open the pages, picking a spot at random to begin.
Only to find stuck between the pages something that catches my breath in my chest. Two somethings, actually.
The first is the check from Two Hearts Café, the one Mimi left for us that first night. It should surprise me that he kept it, but maybe Ben really did know from the beginning that we were meant to end up here.
The second thing is an old photo, one that someone took the time to print out and not just leave stranded in the cloud. The paper is worn and creased, like it’s been handled, carefully, but often over the years. I study the four people in the picture, my heart cracking open as I take in the details.
The man who has Ben’s thick brown hair. The woman with his whiskey-brown eyes. The little girl with the wide grin and a skinned knee, looking up at her older brother like he hung the moon.
My eyes linger the longest on Ben. He must be about twelve years old in this picture, but I would know that smile anywhere. It’s the same smile all four of the people in the photo share—open and warm and real.
This is the kind of family I’ve never allowed myself to want. Not because it’s not appealing, but because I know it’s out of reach.
But Ben has that family, the perfect one, the one where people fight, but make up. Where they tease, but also show love. Where they show up for one another, support one another, truly enjoy one another’s company.
My finger traces over Ben’s face, his cheeks still a little rounded with youth, smattered with a spray of freckles that have faded as he’s gotten older.
Ben can’t go the rest of his life without these people, without his family. He doesn’t mention them often, and I assumed it was because they’re not close, that he misses them as little as I miss my family. But I think I had that all wrong. Maybe he doesn’t talk about them because it’s too painful, because the missing them is too overwhelming.
And yet, he told me he’s willing to stay here in Heart Springs. With me.
He would give up his family to be with me.
And I would let him. I would stay here, where everything is perfect and easy, if it means never having to face my grandmother. Never having to tell her I no longer want the legacy she’s built for me, never having to face her disappointment.
If I never have to tell her I’m running away, just like Mom did, then maybe I won’t have to face that disappointment. Never have to deal with the fact that maybe I am like my mom, and maybe that’s not such a bad thing.
But I can’t do that to Ben. He won’t leave me, would never think of trying to find a way out of here that doesn’t include me. He would put me first, above his own needs, always.
I stick the photo back between the pages and close the book, mind made up.
It’s time to go home.