Chapter 24
MADDY
“It’s just dinner.” I’m talking to the mirror, giving myself the pep talk I imagine might come from an older, wiser sister, if I had one. If Cheshire were here, I could at least pretend to be talking to him, but he’s probably curled up in his favourite place in the world: Ben’s bed.
There is no loyalty left in this world.
“It’s just dinner.” And it is. Two people, sharing a meal. It will be a walk in the park. But given our history, our undeniable attraction to one another, and the fact that I’m living in his home, the park we’re strolling through might as well be riddled with land mines.
“I miss you. And time and distance haven’t changed a damn thing.”
I miss Ben, too. More than I thought possible. It’s as though I’d locked that part of me away all these years and now it’s awake and ravenous. I stayed up until after eleven last night watching not only his hockey game, but the post game interviews and highlights. Just so I could see more of him.
And that kiss? The kiss was like a bolt of lightning whose energy is still coursing through my veins days later.
I think, deep down, part of me felt like I would never feel that way again.
This desperate want that spreads through me like it’s been injected into my bloodstream.
This aching, visceral throbbing of every pulse point in my body, simultaneously.
But one kiss from Ben and everything came roaring back.
I knew the moment he asked me to go out with him that I wanted to say yes. It was automatic. Instinct. He asked and my heart and body were immediately on board. But, as always, my head insisted on playing devil's advocate.
It plagued my waking moments with questions like “Is it too soon?” “Is it the right decision?” “Will I get my heart broken again?”
The answer to all three questions was “maybe,” but I decided to throw caution to the wind and do it anyway.
What had Chanda told me when we discussed the seating arrangement? “Trust your gut, Madelyn. Don’t overthink it.”
As I look around at the dozen discarded outfits strewn around my guest room, my mouth forms a frown. Don’t overthink it? But overthinking is what I do best!
A timer sounds from the kitchen and I allow myself one last look in the mirror. The dark-blue dress isn’t anything special, but it fits me well and I’m comfortable in it. And, fine, it might also make my eyes sparkle like precious jewels. If I were to care about that kind of thing.
The prime rib is almost finished, making the entire condo smell amazing. I check the temperature with a meat thermometer and turn the heat down and set a timer. I offered to cook dinner rather than go out. Honestly, after everything Ben’s done for me, it’s the least I could do in return.
Plus, this gives me home court advantage. Choosing the meal and location means I’m in control. Right? Though, I suppose the argument could be made that because this is actually Ben’s condo and I’m only staying here due to benevolence on his part, this is his turf, not mine.
Well, would you look at that? I’m overthinking again.
The knock at the door makes me grin despite my nervous energy. No. It’s not nervous energy, it’s excitement.
The sight of his smile lifts my spirits so much it could be considered a kind of therapy. That messy hair that my fingers itch to mess up even more. Those dimples that make my own lips curl upward. The brown eyes that feel like home even when my home is far away.
“Did you forget your key?” I tease.
“I told you.” His eyes darken as they travel over me, taking every inch of me in. “This is your place. I didn’t want to assume.”
“I appreciate it.” I open the door wider and he steps inside. His gaze remains fixed on me, making my body prickle with awareness. “How was your trip?”
“Hmmm?” He’s staring at me with such focus, I have to laugh. I wave a hand in front of his face, which breaks the spell. “Sorry, Madness.” The rumble of his laugh reverberates low in my stomach. “You look so, so lovely.”
Maybe I should be embarrassed by his attention, but I’m not. I crave it like a habit I was never fully able to kick. He has always looked at me in a way that made me feel so desired, but not objectified.
“Thank you.” I hold his gaze, standing a bit straighter. Wordlessly telling him to look all he likes. “Dinner is almost ready. Would you like something to drink? The guy who owns the place has a great wine collection.”
His laugh is full and genuine. “Lady’s choice.”
I walk to the kitchen slowly, swaying my hips a bit more than necessary, just in case he’s watching me walk away. I hope that he is.
I pour the wine from the decanter and as I’m watching the rich, burgundy liquid make patterns on the glass, it finally hits me: I want to try again.
The revelation shouldn’t come as a surprise, given everything that’s transpired over the last couple of months, but it’s enough to knock the wind out of me and leave me breathless.
If he asked me right now for a promise of forever, I couldn’t give it. Not yet. We can’t just wipe the slate clean and pick up where we left off all those years ago.
But I’m willing to try. I’m willing to risk getting hurt for the reward of what we could have been. What we still could be.
I just hope that will be enough for him.
Ben is sitting on the couch when I return with the wine.
Cheshire is sprawled over his lap, not asking for but demanding his attention.
Ben seems only too happy to oblige, his big hands working through his thick fur.
I stare at his hands, wishing they were on me.
Caressing me, teasing me, winding me higher and higher.
I am jealous of a cat. Should I be in therapy? Because this seems unhealthy and I should maybe unpack these feelings with an unbiased party.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
I tear my gaze from Ben’s hands to find him staring at me curiously.
He looks so relaxed. So entirely in his element.
You would think that mine and Cheshire’s sudden presence in his home would bother him, if only a little.
But he seems so content. Like he’s happier with us here. Like we belong here. With him.
Cheshire purrs loudly, clearly willing to welcome him back into his life.
“Wine?” The word sounds forced and uncertain. Like I’m not even sure that’s what’s in the glass despite having poured it myself from the bottle moments ago. I walk closer on unsteady legs, handing him the glass. He accepts it in one hand, but his other hand closes over my wrist gently.
“Maddy?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you okay?”
I nod quickly. It’s not a lie. I am okay. Better than okay. Since ending my relationship with Derek, it’s like I can breathe again.
“Are you sure? Because if I’m rushing things…if I’m putting too much pressure on you.”
“You aren’t,” I insist, sinking to the couch next to him. Cheshire, no longer the sole focus of Ben’s attention, gets bored and stalks off.
“I just don’t want you to feel like I’m hurrying you. I’m not going anywhere. We can take as much time as you want.”
“‘If you knew time as well as I do, you wouldn’t talk about wasting it.’”
I can tell by the way his expression warms that he remembers the Mad Hatter quote from my favourite book.
“Speaking of which.” Ben takes my wine and sets both glasses down on the coffee table. “I have something for you.” I watch him as he walks across the room, his movements strong and graceful. He grabs his coat from where it’s resting on the back of a chair and reaches inside, pulling something out.
His walk back to me is slower, like he’s grown nervous.
“I got you something. In Florida this week.” He sits back beside me and holds out a paper gift bag. It’s slightly crumpled from being inside his coat.
“You don’t need to buy me things, Ben.”
“I like buying you things,” he argues. “And I haven’t been able to in a long time, so it’s going to take a while to get it out of my system.”
Smiling, I reach my hand into the bag and pull out a book-shaped object wrapped in a soft cloth. “Hmm. It doesn’t feel like a Disney World snow globe.”
“Open it and find out.”
Carefully, I unwrap my present and gasp. The hardcover book has no dust jacket, just a dark blue surface that’s a bit rough in places. Smooth gold lettering is printed on the spine and cover alone with an illustration of a young girl.
“Where did you…” I start to carefully turn the pages. Copyright 1908 London. The full-colour illustrations smiling up at me.
“There’s a used book store in Tampa that I go to whenever we play there.” He rubs the back of his neck. “The guy kind of knows me by now, since I’ve been going there for years looking for the same book. He had it set aside for me.”
Ben still goes to used books stores looking for copies of my favourite book? How many Saturday mornings had we started with a trip to local shops back home? And he’s been going for years?
“It’s not in the best condition,” he admits. “The binding is loose and some of the pages are pretty discoloured.”
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper, hugging the book to my chest, not trusting myself to look into his eyes, scared of what I might find. “You’ve been going to a used book store in Florida for years?”
He swallows. “Yeah. I mean, not just there. I’ve found some pretty cool shops in several of the cities where we play away games.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. No, I do. I think…I think it made me feel connected to you.
Like I still had a part of you.” The vulnerability coming off of him as he stares at his hands in his lap threatens to break me.
He’s always been so honest with me. Putting himself out there, again and again, knowing full well he might get hurt.
My breath quickens as my chest tightens. “I want to try again.”
His eyes snap up to meet mine. “What?”
I place my new treasure down next to our forgotten wine glasses and turn myself to face him on the couch.