Chapter 22 #2
The silence between us feels heavy. I can feel his eyes on me again, their intensity making my pulse quicken. I move to a rack of dresses, flipping through the brightly coloured designs just to give my hands something to do.
“How are you?” Ben asks tentatively behind me, his voice softer than it was when Chanda was here.
“Great!” My response is overly bright, the forced cheeriness practically echoing in the large room.
Definitely didn’t need that extra shot of espresso in my morning latte.
“Busy. So busy. But being busy is good!” My words tumble out like they’re trying to drown out the nagging voice in my head.
If you keep moving, keep working, keep filling your hours, you don’t have to think about all the ways you’re screwing up your life.
“Maddy.”
“Cheshire loves your place. I swear, I’ll never get him to leave.”
“Maddy, please.”
It’s the “please” that makes me freeze. His tone is calm, but there’s an undercurrent of torment there. I don’t want to turn around. I don’t want to look at him. But I can’t ignore him forever.
When I finally meet his eyes, my heart clenches.
The confident man who can fill a room with his presence—who always seems so sure of himself, so unshakable—looks lost. His broad shoulders are slumped.
His hands are buried deep in his pockets, his usual ease replaced by a raw vulnerability that makes my chest ache.
He looks like a man who bet everything he had and lost it all.
“Can we talk about what happened on the balcony?” His voice is quiet, almost pleading.
“We really don’t have—” I start, desperate to shut this down, to avoid reopening that wound.
“Please, Madness.” The nickname slips out, and it breaks me a little. “Just let me explain.”
“You don’t have to,” I say, though my voice wavers.
“Of course I need to explain. And I want to.” His eyes search mine. “Please?”
I exhale sharply, the breath burning my lungs, and nod. Bracing myself for whatever comes next.
“Valentina…the woman who came out on the balcony,” he begins.
The woman who kissed you. The woman who called you ‘babe.’ I swallow the lump in my throat and nod again, my nails digging into my palms. The memory of her, so confident and possessive as she kissed him, has played on repeat in my mind.
“We dated a year ago,” he continues. “For a couple of months. I was in a bad place. I’d just gotten some news I didn’t want to hear, and I…
I self-destructed. She was there.” He rubs the back of his neck, his gaze momentarily dropping to the floor, as though he can’t quite believe he’s saying this.
“I wanted us to work, but we were no good together. Too different. We broke up last December, and I didn’t hear from her again until a few weeks ago.
She texted me, congratulating me on playing well in a game.
I didn’t respond. I hadn’t even given it another thought…
until she showed up. Uninvited, by the way. ”
His words hang in the air, and I don’t know what to say. I believe him. Of course I do. Even when we were at our worst, Ben would never try to hurt me on purpose. He would never string me along if any part of him wanted to be with someone else.
I stare into his eyes, brimming with sincerity, a million questions on the tip of my tongue.
What news sent him spiraling last year? What was so big, so devastating, that he unraveled?
How many other girlfriends or hookups are there waiting in the wings, ready to take the stage at any given cue?
What happened with Valentina after I left?
I don’t ask any of them. I’m here to do my job and I can’t let my heart steer the ship right now.
We are friends.
We are colleagues.
Anything else will have to wait.
“I swear, Maddy. I didn’t know she’d be there.”
“It’s fine, Ben. Really,” I insist, trying to make light of the uncomfortable situation. “You didn’t know I’d be there either, remember?”
“But I wanted–”
“Bad news!” Chanda bursts back into the room with Claus striding closely behind her. “Annika has some sort of stomach bug and can’t join us this afternoon.”
“Oh, no.” The announcement is like a splash of cold water, snapping me out of my relationship drama and back into organizer mode; where I should be. My mental checklist flashes in my mind. With Ben and Annika’s chaotic schedules, this was the one sliver of time this month they could both make work.
Breathe. You’ve got this.
“We can still decide on what Ben will wear,” I suggest, glancing at Claus for backup. “We could pair his outfits with some dresses we like and have Annika come in on her own once she’s feeling better?”
“Of course,” Claus replies smoothly. He plucks a scarlet dress from a nearby rack. “I’ve already pulled together selections that reflect the season and align with the vision you described for the event.”
He gestures toward the racks, which are brimming with options—elegant gowns for Annika, sharp suits for Ben. There must be more than a dozen choices for each of them.
“Are any of the tuxes double-breasted?” Ben asks, his brow lifting as he thumbs through his options.
“I thought single-breasted would be a more modern, sleek choice,” Claus explains, his tone as confident as his selections.
Ben gives him a mischievous grin. “My friend, you’ve never seen me in a double-breasted tux. Trust me. It’s a game changer.” He seals the deal with a wink.
“I’ll fetch more options right away,” Claus says, already pivoting toward the racks.
“I’ll help,” Chanda calls as she trails after him.
I bite my lip to stifle a smile. He’s still got it.
“Classic Ben Michaels.” I laugh, shaking my head. “A smile, a wink, and you get everything you want.”
Ben’s gaze rakes over my body, slow and intentional. The room feels suddenly smaller, the air much warmer.
“Not everything,” he says, his voice low.
My mouth opens, but the words don’t come. The man has rendered me speechless twice in the span of ten minutes. Thankfully the rest of our party returns, saving me from a response.
“I’ve just had the most wonderful idea.” Chanda shuffles toward us, a suit balanced on each arm. “Maddy, you should try on the dresses in Annika’s place.”
“I should…” I start, distracted by her cheerfulness before the actual words hit me. “I beg your pardon?”
“You’re about the same size and height as she is,” Chanda chirps, already eyeing the racks like she’s deciding what outfit she wants to stuff her Barbie doll into.
Same size and height? I have at least four inches and a solid twenty pounds on Annika.
“I don’t think we need to do that, do we?” I hedge, desperation creeping into my tone. “I could just, I don’t know, hold the dress up to Ben?”
“But I’m such a visual person,” Chanda insists as she plucks a sapphire blue gown off the rack and thrusts it toward me like an olive branch. “Please?”
Claus is nodding along with her, and when my gaze shifts to Ben, I’m met with the worst reaction of all: barely contained amusement. His lips are quirked in that maddeningly smug half-smile that says he thinks this turn of events is funny.
Oh, screw him.
“Of course,” I say brightly, pasting on my best this is fine smile. “No problem at all.”
I take the dress from Chanda’s outstretched hands and head toward the dressing room.
This is fine. Everything is fine.
As I close the dressing room door behind me, I catch a glimpse of Ben in the mirror, still smirking. My cheeks burn, and I mutter under my breath, “This is fine.”