24. Giselle #3
“When did you have time to get that?” I asked, amused at how much happiness such little things brought me. It really was the little things in life sometimes.
“Remember that gig I took out in south Pennsylvania last month?”
I nodded. It had been a three-day trip. I’d spent the nights at his house along with Natalie, and it had been wonderful.
I’d introduced Benny to the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles , which of course resulted in him requesting to start martial arts and also buy nunchakus.
We’d ordered a set of foam ones online to appease him, and his agreement with his father was that if he continued his therapy and did well on his mid-year exams in second grade without feeling overwhelmed, he could start martial arts lessons.
Although Ben had been reticent to take the gig, I was glad he had, as it had also been an excuse for him to touch base with someone whose grandmother had married out of the pack, and they were looking for some family history.
It hadn’t been an easy trip for him, but when he came back, he seemed even more at peace, and the family had one more connection.
How many more were out there? Maybe in the future, I would suggest to Ben that he seek them out. But not yet. It was yet another thing that required patience.
And that was okay.
“I remember,” I said a bit belatedly, but Ben and I were used to each other needing a beat or two to process things. It would annoy the ever-living shit out of some people, but it worked for us.
“Right. Well, I stopped by a quaint Mennonite shop and picked this and the blanket out. Thought it might be nice to have a picnic once the school year was over.”
He’d thought of that all that time ago? My heart fluttered again, and from the quirk of his lips, he noticed.
“Thank you for thinking of me.”
He closed the picnic basket and wrapped his arm around my waist. “I’m always thinking about you, babe.”
Goodness.
Thankfully, he gave my heart a break by giving me yet another little peck before grabbing our picnic supplies.
“You ready?”
I nodded, knowing my voice would be little more than a squeak if I answered.
He offered me his arm, and I took it. It was one habit I hoped we never, ever grew out of. “Let’s go then!”
We headed out, arm in arm, and had an absolutely lovely picnic. We sat, we ate, I showed him old TikTok videos I’d saved on my phone that I thought would make him laugh, we ate some more, then I dozed with my head in his lap while he read some poetry to me.
It was like a dream, really, and more romantic than I ever thought could be realistic. I was experiencing something I thought a semi-disabled woman like me could never have, and I was enjoying rubbing it in the metaphorical face that belonged to that mean little voice in my head.
Eventually, we were warm enough to take a dip, so Ben packed up and I followed him to the stream. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect, but I was delighted when we came across a wide, gently moving body of water.
I made sure to slather my face with sunscreen and wait fifteen minutes for it to set, but thankfully I didn’t have to worry about the rest of my body since I’d bought a modest bathing suit.
I hadn’t gotten it because I felt bikinis were wrong, but because sometimes making sure every inch of my nearly bioluminescent skin was properly protected from UV rays ended up tiring me out too much to actually swim, and that was a real travesty.
It was even more fun than I’d imagined; the two of us splashing around, swimming lazily, and lying on the shore to soak up the sun. I was going to be thoroughly exhausted, but it felt nice to have earned it through fun physical activity rather than just being worn down by fatigue and foot pain.
We headed back to the cabin when Ben’s stomach rumbled insistently, the lighter fare from our picnic not quite enough to satiate him long-term. There, we threw together a simple pesto pasta.
I didn’t know if he’d done it intentionally, but it reminded me of the first meal I’d had at his house. It filled me with such a pervasive fondness that I knew I would look back on my memories of the trip for a long, long time whenever I needed a mental pick-me-up.
But I started to get the feeling that it very much was intentional when Ben set the table and beckoned me to take my seat before disappearing into the kitchen. A moment later, he returned with two wine bottles and chilled glasses.
I shot him a quizzical look. Although I wouldn’t be mad if he had forgotten that I couldn’t mix alcohol with my medications, it was unlike him to slip on something like that.
The confusion only lasted until he set them down, and I saw the label clearly.
“ Non - alcoholic rosé?” I blurted. “I didn’t even know that was a thing!”
Sure, I was well aware of the growing popularity of mocktails and was happy those were becoming more available at bars across the world, but it wasn’t like I ever went out like that.
Even if I wanted to spend all the extra money on doctored fruit juice, I wouldn’t stay awake long enough to have an actual night on the town.
“Went to a halal market on my trip to get some Gulab as a treat and saw they had a whole section of non-alcoholic drinks. I remember you said you missed rosé, so I figured it was the perfect chance to grab some.”
He remembered that? A one-off comment I’d made on our first date. A first date that had ended in me being kidnapped and exposed to the shifter world, so it wasn’t like that was exactly a focal point of the evening.
“Are you okay?” Ben asked in alarm. Big, fat, salty tears were beginning to spill over my waterline. “I’m sorry, we don’t have to?—”
“No, no, it’s perfect!” I launched myself out of my seat and threw my arms around his neck. “Thank you, Ben. I love it. I can’t wait to try it!”
Crying over fake wine was probably a bit much, but it was so much more than that. Despite us being entirely different species, he accepted me as I was. My little hiccups, my accommodations, were never an inconvenience to him. It was like he only viewed them as ways to show up for me.
It was more than I ever thought I could have, and I was so sad that Past Giselle thought that was all I deserved. But now I knew better. Although my wounds weren’t as deep as Ben’s, I’d had to unlearn my own internalized self-harm. Like Nox had said, sometimes I was my own worst bully.
I kissed Ben hard, practically pasting myself to him. I wanted to climb right into his skin, to merge us into one.
But then his stomach rumbled again, and I had to laugh.
“No, no, ignore that,” Ben said quickly, holding on to me as I went to sit. “I can eat later.”
I knew better, though. He could skip a meal to indulge in the direction I was heading, but then he’d end up light-headed and there definitely wouldn’t be time for a round two.
Sometimes, delayed gratification was worth it.
“We put the time into making the food, we should enjoy it while it’s fresh. Besides…” I shot him a wink. “It’ll help me keep my energy up for any calisthenics we might get up to.”
“Calisthenics?” he teased right back, sitting down.
I batted my lashes at him, as I tended to do whenever I was being cheeky. “You never know what could happen.”
We stuffed ourselves silly with a truly delicious meal and had an entire bottle of the faux wine, then cuddled up in front of the fireplace together on the long, overstuffed couch.
The furniture in the cabin was much nicer than anything I had at home, and I couldn’t help but wonder how much Ben had paid for our reservation.
He really had pulled out all the stops, hadn’t he?
I couldn’t believe it was only our first night of our mini-vacation, and already it was so magical.
Truly, when was the last time I’d felt so relaxed and unencumbered by the responsibilities of the next day?
I couldn’t say, and that in and of itself said something all on its own.
Despite claiming to hate grind culture, I’d been right against that ever-spinning stone for years.
As much as Ben said he needed me, I really needed him too.
Without him, I didn’t know if I ever would have slowed down and realized how much I was missing.
“A penny for your thoughts before inflation makes them unobtainable?”
That got a soft chuckle out of me, but along with it came a revelation that hit me like a wrecking ball. “I’ve been going over this in my head dozens and dozens of times, trying to find the perfect words or wait for that movie moment, but I’ve been overcomplicating it all.”
He shot me a quizzical look but all I could do was smile at him. “Uh, I don’t follow.”
Of course he didn’t, because I wasn’t making sense. But that was okay, because I was going to. I took a long, slow breath, then said what I’d been too afraid to let past my lips.
“I love you.”
There it was. Just three words. So simple, yet they carried so much. The journey we’d had so far, the journey we would have again. Hopes and dreams and fears all wrapped up in one succinct passage. Sometimes, a monologue wasn’t needed.
Sometimes the truth was enough.
I reached up to caress Ben’s face, intending to tell him that he didn’t have to say it back if he wasn’t ready, but my fingers barely touched his cheek when he answered.
“I love you, too.”
And I believed him.
Our confessions hung in the air, bold and unfettered, finally free to be exactly what they were. And then we kissed.
It was like all our other kisses and yet so much more at the same time.
There was heat. There was desire. But there was also an openness that was entirely new.
We’d overcome so much to be healthy enough to have something so beautiful, and I knew in the deepest parts of my soul that I would never let it go.
“I fucking love you,” Ben nearly growled when we broke the kiss to give my heart time to catch up with what was happening. And somehow, it sounded even better the second time around.