25 BEN #2
“He means congratulations,” I say, grabbing her hand away before she can shake his, acting like a right git.
Janie watches me, confused as I bring her hand to my mouth and kiss her delicate fingers without conscious thought.
I shrug. Had to be done. Aiden is a handsome son of a bitch. She doesn’t need to shake his hand.
“I absolutely do not,” He huffs with an almost-grin, keeping his eyes firmly on our faces.
“Oh, I like him,” Janie smirks at me.
“Yes, well, you married me, so, by default, you like me better.”
Her grin turns into a smile, “I don’t know about—”
“What’s that, love, you need a drink?” I make a point of cutting her off and she laughs. My chest stirs with pride at the sound and at how often I can prompt it lately. “The bar’s just there, I’ll go grab us…” I look at Aiden’s drink, which matches everyone else’s. “What’s it?”
“Not sure. Fruity. It was the only option.”
“Brilliant, two fruity cocktails then.” I turn to put both hands on the dips in Janie’s hourglass silhouette. “Aiden’s in real estate, dreadfully boring and always grumpy. He’s happy to stand silently and people watch with you.”
She looks to him and he nods. I give her a squeeze before crossing a few feet to the bar area.
“Or we can make small talk if you want?” I hear her ask.
“Definitely not,” he replies. Good man. I walk away quickly, glad I am not actually a jealous tool. I can leave them together to chat. If he sneaks a look at her insane ass, well…well, I won’t know because drinks. I’m getting drinks.
I cough and decide to look around at the bizarre room while standing in the bar line. The furniture is heavy and traditional, like I’d see at Dad’s club in London, but near the bar and in the corner I spot more of the well-lit sculptures. I can’t decide if I like them or not.
I’m surrounded by acquaintances, a senator, a C.I. contractor, some I don’t quite recognize, so I wave, nod, lift my chin and smile. Finally, I get our drinks. I thank the bartender and turn to stare at Janie. Might as well get a greedy eyeful while she’s not paying attention.
But she…she’s tense.
I start back in her direction, then pause in my tracks.
She’s hugging—no, being hugged by—some bloke that…that looks a lot like bloody Taye Diggs. He gestures and she nods. My eyes clock the nearest sculpture. That’s why she froze when we came in. That’s why she’s frozen now, staring up at him.
Well.
I start to move.
As I get closer I hear him plead, “Please, Jay, let’s go talk.”
And she…she’s considering it.
I take back everything I said about not being a jealous prick.
“Here you go, my darling,” I say loudly before fully reaching them. I hand her her drink, searching her eyes for some truth about the situation. The gray beauties look…scared? Embarrassed? Small? All bloody wrong.
“Ben,” she smiles a tight smile and takes her drink.
My free hand finds the back of her neck, gripping under her ponytail like the possessive caveman I apparently am now.
I also straighten my spine as I turn toward him at her side, enjoying how we face him together, two against one.
And definitely not minding the four inches of height I have over this artsy asshole.
He looks at me, then Janie, then my hand where it’s traveled from her nape to her hip, close enough to the curve of her backside to be, yet again, possessive as hell.
“Benedict, this is Theo. Theo, Benedict,” Janie says.
“Right, yeah, hey man, nice to meet you.”
He extends a hand. I ignore it.
“Is it?”
“Uh,” his stupid, brilliantly white smile falters but he recovers. “Well, um, what do you think? You’re quite the collector, man, I saw that piece on you in Art Digest.”
I ignore his flattery completely, “Tell me, Theo, how much did Janelle help your career?” I see Janie’s head snap up to me but I ignore that too. Finally the guy starts to stammer. “Did she work your books, organize your shows? Sort your inventory?”
“I, well, yeah, she—”
“And did she get a cut of your profits? A salary or commission in all those years she made you what you are today?”
“Wait, what? Jay?” He puts his angry eyes on Janelle and something in me snaps.
I lean forward. “Don’t look at her you weak, indecisive, sad sack of shit,” His head rears back and he starts to protest but I inch forward.
“You had your shot with her and you weren’t bloody sure?
Weren’t positive that nothing better could ever or would ever happen to you?
You’re the world’s biggest idiot. And you’re mental if you think you can simply walk up to Janelle and touch her?
Hug her? Speak to her in bloody private? Absolutely the fuck not. Walk away.”
“Ben,” Aiden warns behind me. I can feel every eye on us, a crowd gathering, I just don’t care.
“Are you for real right now, man?” Theo says, his hands turning to fists at his sides.
“Walk. Away.”
He shifts to look around me and calls to her, “Janie!”
“Talk to my wife again and watch what happens to your little…” I sneer at one of the sculptures, “ career. A few calls and you never sell another piece of your overpriced Play-Doh shit ever again, so go. Now.”
He releases a frustrated grunt before storming away. I watch him go, vibrating with anger. I haven’t punched anyone since my teens but my fists are clenched at my sides too.
“Ben,” Janie whispers behind me.
I inhale and then breathe out slowly, bracing. I turn, ready to have my face ripped off for turning into an ape and overstepping by about a thousand kilometers. I face her.
“Can we get out of here?” She asks.
“Of course,” I gesture for her to lead the way. I’m positive she doesn’t want to hold hands or link arms after my little show. Shit.
We make quick work of exiting the space. By the time we reach the sidewalk, I can already see the car pulling up.
“Janie, I—”
“Don’t.” She says. I sigh and decide to obey for now.
As the car takes us slowly across town, I sneak a few glances at her. She’s turned away, focused firmly on anything and everything outside the car window. I ache to reach out and grab her hand, tell her I’m sorry.
She can hold her own, I know that. I should’ve known it, in the moment. She didn’t need me to go all alpha male. I’m sure she’s not only angry but embarrassed, maybe hurt that I brought up her past in front of prying eyes.
Shit shit shit!
I decide to keep my hands and thoughts to myself.
But it’s physically sickening. Painful, even.
And why the hell is that, exactly? Why did I turn into a neanderthal in the first place, and why now am I struggling to breathe?
It’s just a tiff, who cares? She’ll come ‘round. Tell me I’m gross and flee back to Juniper Falls. We’ll go back to being friends.
Friends. Fine. Good.
But as the car pulls up to my building, I feel even worse.