Chapter 32

If possible, I looked even worse than I felt when I found a mirror. My eyeliner and mascara were running down my cheeks, and any attempt to clean them up made them smudge worse. My lipstick was gone as if it had never existed, and the hair I had so meticulously pinned back was completely undone.

After ten minutes of trying to save face, literally, I gave up and made a quiet exit. I sent up a prayer of thanks as I escaped the venue without running into anyone I knew.

Back at the hotel, I washed away the makeup and the memories of this horrible night and slipped into the T-shirt and comfort leggings I had brilliantly packed. At least I made one good decision this weekend.

I muted my texts as they came spilling in.

Quinn: Where’d you go? Everything okay?

Gabriela: How’s it going with Ben and the she-devil?

Dani: Be honest. Did he come in his pants when he saw you?

I laid in bed for hours, trying to sleep and instead replaying every second of my time with Ben. His hand skimming its way up from my waist. How well we had fit together, like not a day had passed since we split. The anguish in his eyes when I pushed him away.

A knock on the door disrupted the stream of memories—half fantasy, half self-flagellation.

I peeked through the peephole to see Ben, still in his tuxedo, with his bow tie hanging around his neck. I crept the door open, allowing just enough space for my body to fit.

“What are you doing here, Ben?”

He slipped both hands in his pockets. “Can I come in?”

I sighed, glancing back into my room. It wasn’t the same room from April, but it may as well have been. The chair looked just like the one he sat in while he confessed his past. The bedspread was the same one we’d been sprawled on when he demanded I tell him I was his while he moved deep inside me. I calculated the odds that I’d maintain my self-control if I got him near a bed, and the math didn’t come out in my favor.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said, pulling my eyes away from the imaginary scene my mind had created.

He lifted his hands. “Just to talk. No funny business.”

I rolled my eyes before I leveled him with a hard stare. “Ben.”

He smirked and leaned in slightly. “It’s been a while since you’ve said my name like that. All exasperated. Brings back fond memories.”

“Stop flirting with me.” It came out sharp, a blade meant to cut off the words before I could be pulled under by his charm. But I could tell it cut him, too.

“I’m sorry.” He dropped his head forward and cleared his throat. “I shouldn’t have… I’ve never been good at this when I’m nervous.”

Seeing him there, shifting on his feet with a hand on the back of his neck, I realized he really was nervous. Too many emotions fought for dominance at once. I wanted to put him at ease, but also wanted to slam the door in his face. My fingers twitched to reach for his hand while the pettiest part of my soul danced at his discomfort.

He looked down, eyes glued to his shoes like he couldn’t bear to look at me. “I told Stephanie it’s done.”

I forced in a breath as I replayed his words. I told Stephanie it’s done. He definitely said that.

My silly little heart sped up in my chest, shooting off toward him like a toddler who spotted a loved one across the street and didn’t bother stopping to look for cars. And like I’d done so many times for Sophie over the years, my brain had to dive on it, yanking it back to safety before it was left pulverized in the road.

This was all too much. The stress and fear. I’d gone a year without a panic attack before this man came into my life. The smart thing would have been to close the door, go back to a life that was, if not full, at least content.

But then I looked at him. Really looked, without my focus fixed on how to get him away from the far-too-tempting bed. His eyes were rimmed in red, the bright hue that always seemed to hover around him gone from his face.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I asked, “Are you alright?”

He ran both hands down his face as he let out a heavy breath. “It was a fucking mess. She was pissed. Screaming at the top of her lungs. Someone from the hotel came to the room to tell us to keep it down.”

I fought the urge to reach for him. He made this mess, and it wasn’t my job to comfort him while he dealt with the repercussions.

“She started yelling that she’d sue for custody. That she’d win because she was her mother, and I’d never see Paris again.” He ran a hand through his dark hair and started pacing the hall in front of the door, a few steps in each direction before pivoting. “Which is ridiculous since she signed away her parental rights as part of the divorce. Keeping Paris was the only thing I was going to fight her on, but I didn’t have to. She gave her up without a pause and didn’t remember. Can you imagine giving up any future right to Clara or Sophie and not even remembering?”

He kept up his short walk, back and forth, over and over, until I worried the hotel carpet would be completely worn down. “Then she threatened to disappear again, saying Paris’s pain would be my fault because I was too selfish to pick our family. ” He put the last part in air quotes, like her claiming them after abandoning them was absurd. “I told her I hoped she didn’t choose to leave, but if she was only in Paris’s life to manipulate me, I didn’t want her around to begin with.

“I don’t know what she’s going to do. Or what she’s going to tell Paris, if she’s going to try to sabotage my relationship with her. I just freaked your mom out by calling in the middle of the night, but I had to make sure Stephanie can’t get to her if she tries. God, your parents must hate me so much, too.” He ran his hands through his hair again, the strands sticking in different directions like he’d done the move so many times tonight that they were committing to the new look. “You were right earlier. My plan was shit.”

I chuckled, and he finally stopped his pacing, facing me as the corner of his mouth twitched in response. He looked down at me, and his dark eyes were pulling me under again.

His smile faded as his eyes raked over my face. “I think it felt like a competition to her. It’s probably why she’s stuck around as long as she has, trying to prove she could steal me away from you.” He risked another step closer, bringing us a foot apart and forcing me to crane my neck to maintain eye contact. “But there is nothing she or anyone else could do to make me stop loving you.”

I sucked in a sharp breath, and his eyes softened.

“I’m free, Juliana,” he said in a whisper that I felt through every inch of my body.

The offer was clear. I could have him if I wanted. And I believed him, trusted that he wanted forever with me. But I also understood, better than anyone, that love was no guarantee of forever.

I had sorted out how to act as a functioning human with this new pain. I’d glued my heart back together. It was messy and ugly but it worked, like a repaired mug you could use but constantly had to watch for leaks. How many times could it shatter before it was completely useless, the shards ground to dust?

I couldn’t afford to be useless.

I shifted back, moving an infinitesimal amount that felt like miles. “I’m happy for you, Ben.”

Those dark lashes that had haunted my dreams for the past few years blinked quickly as he registered my words. “Happy for us. Right?”

I raised my chin, forcing myself to hold his gaze but unable to force anything out of my mouth that wouldn’t end up with me tearfully begging him to figure out a way to make it work, to fix us. Fix me.

He let out a shuddering breath. “Please, baby. Please don’t do this.”

I pulled on the last dregs of my strength, on all the times I’d been forced to keep it together. Through acquaintances, more curious than sympathetic, wanting to know how I was doing after Jason died. The meetings I had to sit through with Ben watching me. On all the times I held back tears for either man because my kids needed strength, not a flood.

“It’s already done. Let’s just keep moving forward,” I forced the words out of my mouth.

Ben’s eyes filled with tears and he took my hand. “Please, Juliana. I fucked up so bad. I know. And I know I don’t deserve you. You’re so far out of my league you might as well be in a different galaxy. But I know I can make you happy. I’ll be every thing you need and I’ll never give you another reason to doubt me for the rest of our lives. Please.”

He’d make me happy until he didn’t, and then he’d leave me broken beyond repair.

“It’s easier like this,” I said quietly, studying the swirling design on the hotel carpet.

A pessimistic laugh escaped his throat. “What about this feels easy?”

Nothing.

I forced my eyes back to him, feeling like my internal organs were being held in a death grip. But I had to manage this hurt. Cut out the threat like an amputation. I may spend the rest of my life with the phantom limb of my feelings for him, but at least I’d live.

“I’m sorry, Ben.”

He didn’t say anything else. I stepped back into my room and let the door swing shut, my eyes glued to the tears that ran down his cheeks until the heavy wood cut us off from each other.

Then I let my own tears come.

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