13. Elle
elle
. . .
B en invites me to stay for dinner, which he ends up making. He grills salmon, roasts potatoes, and asparagus, while I pick out the wine. He’s not supposed to drink, but has a small glass anyway, and tells me it’s to calm his nerves. I know they’re frayed, and he’s on the edge of losing his shit. I would be if I were him. Thankfully, his mother volunteers to clean up after dinner. It seems like Brenda and Brad have seen the light, so to speak, and have realized the potential severity of the situation. Ben’s sick. He may look healthy and thriving on the outside, but on the inside, his body is about to wage war against a deadly disease. He shouldn’t have to cater to his family. It needs to be the other way around, and if they plan to stay, they’re going to need to pitch in. Something needs to be said to them, but the last thing I want to do is upset Ben. He is—and will be—going through enough. He doesn’t need me making the situation worse.
After dinner, Ben joins me on the balcony outside our bedroom. Well, I guess it’s just his bedroom now. I’ve always loved the view, and miss being in this house. It’s something we found together. It’s supposed to be our home. He brings me a glass of wine, hands it to me, and then stands to the side. He rests his arms on the railing and sighs.
“It’s a beautiful night,” he says. “I’ve always liked it out here at night, just hearing the ocean and not the traffic.”
“I know what you mean. I’ve missed this.”
“Where have you been staying?” he asks.
“At the hotel near the studio. Makes things easy.”
“What do you want to do about the house?”
Absolutely nothing.
“We can talk about that later, after you’re cured.”
“That could be five years from now, Elle. Do you really want to wait that long to move on from this burden?”
I turn slightly to face him after his statement. He continues to look forward, out into the darkness of the night. If it wasn’t for the lights from the surrounding houses, or the glow from the bedroom light, I wouldn’t be able to see the expression on his face. He shows zero emotion. No heartache or pain is visible. Ben has closed and locked the door on us and thrown the key into the depths of the Pacific. I don’t blame him. I haven’t exactly shown him how important he is to me, and when I do or at least try, he can’t help but think I’m doing so because he’s sick. For the life of me, I can’t figure out how to show him otherwise.
“You’re not a burden,” I tell him, knowing my words fall upon deaf ears. “I’d be here, regardless.”
“Really?” He gives me a side-eye glance. “If you were married to someone else, you’d still be here?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t lie to yourself, Elle. Our relationship, friendship, or whatever we have would be over. There is no way in hell I’m going to hang around and watch you marry someone else or even date another person. As it is, getting over you is going to be hard, especially now.”
His words hurt. They stab me in my heart and make me catch my breath. How can he be so mean, and yet stand here next to me so nonchalantly? He didn’t have to come outside or bring me wine. Yet, he chose to. Is it because he’d rather wallow in heartache than be with his family? Because to me, it certainly seems like what he’s doing.
“You’d give up Quinn?”
Ben shakes his head. “I’ve already given up family events. I can see Quinn without having to see you or your family.”
“I see.”
Maybe I shouldn’t care about what he’s going through and let him battle this on his own, with his freeloading family. Or do one better and demand we sell the house now, instead of waiting. We’re definitely not in a split the profit situation, but why should I care?
I care because I love him .
I finish my wine and start to walk into the house. Before I cross the threshold, I turn to him and say to his back. “The fertility specialists will harvest your sperm before you go into surgery. We have to be at the hospital at six a.m. The car service will be here at five. Good night, Ben.”
He doesn’t say anything. His head drops and I hear a slight muttering coming from his mouth, but I don’t ask him to repeat himself and say it louder. When I get to the other room, the lights are off as is the television, and Brenda and Brad are nowhere in sight. Makes it easier to make my escape then to have them snicker behind my back.
I’m halfway to the door when Ben’s voice rings out. “You’re not going back to L.A., are you?”
“Why do you care?” I ask with more bite than intended. I sigh, shake my head, and continue toward the door. When I reach my car, I hear the front door open and close again.
“Elle?” The way he says my name reminds me of when we’re alone, together. The moment before we’re about to make love. “You should stay.” Ben’s hand touches my lower back, and shivers run up and down my spine. I can’t help but shake a little at his touch and crave it more.
Turning around, I take him in. The glow of the streetlamp sheds enough light for me to see his eyes. They’re red rimmed now, and there’s an emotion on his face that was absent when we were on the balcony. My hand cups his cheek. He leans into my touch, moving his head slightly to kiss my palm.
“Don’t go.”
“I shouldn’t stay, Ben. We’re not . . .”
“I know and with my family being in the guest bedroom, the options are our bedroom and the couch. I can take the couch if you don’t want to share the bed with me.”
I want to share in more ways than you do right now .
Ben reaches for me, his hand resting on my hip. “I want you to stay. We have an early start in the morning, and I honestly don’t know if I’ll get in the car if you’re not here to push me.” He doesn’t wait for me to give him an answer. He takes my luggage out of the back of my car and carries it into the house. I follow behind, nervous and sad. I love the idea of sleeping next to him again, but I’m sad because we’re not the same anymore.
I’m brushing my teeth when Ben comes into the bathroom. He’s wearing a plain T-shirt and a pair of boxers. He’s been crying. Seeing him like this tears me up inside. I wish with all my might that I could take away his pain, to ease his suffering. When I finish, I fight the urge to pull him into my arms. He wants there to be a separation between us and I need to honor his wishes, even when it hurts me.
Ben dims the overhead lights as he walks into the bedroom. He crawls into bed and pulls the blankets up to his waist and then rolls onto his side. I make sure the alarm is set on my phone and roll to match him. We lie there, with our hands under our pillows. Neither of us say anything. All our communication is done by the tears that stain our pillowcases.
After what seems like forever, Ben takes my hand in his. “I’m scared,” he says into the quiet. “I know you are too. You don’t have to tell me. I also know there isn’t anything we can do but follow what we’re told. The surgeon is going to cut me open tomorrow and remove parts of me. . . I don’t know. I can’t explain it. I feel like I’m losing my manhood.”
“I’m so sorry. I know sorry seems like just a word, but I honestly have no idea what to say.”
Ben closes his eyes and snuggles up to our hands. “Thank you for being here.”
“Nothing is going to keep me away from you, Ben. Nothing.”
Sleep evades us. By the time my alarm goes off, we’ve moved to the middle of the bed so we’re touching, and we held hands all night. Now that we’re up, we’re moving around the house in silence. Brenda’s brewed a pot of coffee and Brad’s carried Ben’s bag to the doorway. He’s currently sitting outside waiting for the car.
“Thanks for the coffee, Brenda.”
She nods. “We’re going to need it.”
“My mom will be by a bit later with breakfast.”
“And your dad?” she asks. I try not roll my eyes or sigh. I know she has a crush on my dad.
“He’s getting ready to take my band on tour, and someone will have to watch Oliver.”
“Oliver?”
“Oliver is the foster baby my parents are trying to adopt.”
“Wow, isn’t your mom old?”
I look at her oddly and shake my head before walking away. In seconds she took something positive and turned it nasty. Regardless of how old my mom is, she and my dad have enough love to spread around to whoever needs it. Besides, my dad is older. But Brenda doesn’t care about that.
The car honks when it arrives. I usher Brad and Brenda outside, and slowly coax Ben to the car. He’s right, he wouldn’t have gone if I hadn’t been here. When I go to get in, the back seat is full.
“Mom, go sit in the front, please.”
“But Ben.”
He shakes his head. “Go or stay here.”
Brenda slides out and mutters, “So fucking entitled.”
Yep, I am . Even when I’m not his girlfriend, Ben prefers me over her. I seriously want to stick my tongue out at her and show her how childish I can be. As soon as Brenda and I are seated, the driver heads toward the hospital.
“Will the press be there?” Brad asks.
“No, why would they be?”
He shrugs.
“I’m not famous,” I tell him.
“Still see you guys in the paper sometimes.”
“Yeah, I suppose you do. Regardless, we’ll take the back entrance. It’s private.” My phone lights up with a text from Quinn. I read it and smile. “Quinn’s behind us.”
Ben turns and looks out the back window. It’s still dark and all he can see are the headlights of the car behind. “He didn’t have to come.”
“He knows that, but you’re his friend.”
Ben looks out the side window. He rests his elbow on the door and his chin on his fist. He reaches for my hand, and I give it to him freely. Brad huffs but thankfully keeps his comments to himself.
When the driver pulls up to the security booth at the hospital, he rolls the back window down. “Elle James,” I give him my name and hope there’s some recognition.
“Good morning, Ms. James. What brings you in?”
“Dr. Hilda Rock is expecting us.”
“Dr. Rock doesn’t open her clinic until nine a.m.,” the guard says.
“She’s meeting us at six. We’re scheduled for surgery at eight,” I tell him.
He nods, returns to his booth, looks at his clipboard, and returns. “Mr. James is behind you?”
“Yes,” I say, not surprised Quinn arranged to come through this entrance. The guard reaches into his booth and presses the button to raise the bar to let us through to the private garage used mostly by doctors.
“Used your name for this, I see.”
“Shut the fuck up, Brad.” Ben barks out. “You and mom just need to keep your mouths shut when it comes to Elle and who she is, who her dad is, or how much money she has. Just shut up.” I squeeze his hand. He doesn’t need this kind of stress ahead of his surgery.
The driver puts the car in park and comes around to Ben’s side to open the door. He gets out and keeps ahold of my hand. We wait a few minutes for Quinn to catch up, and as soon as my brother and Ben see each other, they hug. The magnitude of what’s about to happen isn’t lost on any of us. While Ben’s surgery seems routine, surgery is unpredictable.
Quinn says hi to Brenda and Brad, and then pulls me into a hug. “I’m beyond thankful you’re here. I don’t know if I can handle them by myself,” I whisper.
“No worries. Dad is coming later.”
I step back and apprise my brother. “Um . . . what about Plum?”
“First stop is Vegas. He’ll fly in and fly out. He wants to see Ben.” Quinn places his hand on Ben’s shoulder.
I nod and motion toward the door. I know we’d all rather shoot the shit in the parking lot, but that won’t do Ben any good. He needs to get that tumor out of his body before it does any more damage.
Upstairs, the nurse gets Ben into a room right away, and once he’s changed, she tells me I can go in. Except, his mom and brother come with me. I’m annoyed. I also know there isn’t anything I can do about it. Only Ben can.
Brenda fluffs Ben’s pillows and tucks the blankets in around his legs. Ben absolutely hates having the blankets tucked around him. When she’s done, Ben kicks the covers out and I chuckle.
“Good morning,” Dr. Rock comes in with a beaming smile.
“I can’t thank you enough for doing this, Dr. Rock,” I say as she stands at the end of Ben’s bed.
“Of course. It’s my pleasure to help. I am going to ask everyone to leave the room. This is for Ben’s comfort. The procedure itself will only take about ten minutes once we start.”
I tell Ben we’ll be in the waiting room and leave him with Dr. Rock. In the waiting room, Quinn sits and reads a magazine. When I come in, he puts it down and asks what’s wrong. “Nothing, he’s in with the fertility specialists.”
“For what?” Quinn asks.
“To harvest his sperm,” I look at my brother and shrug. “For Ben’s future.” Ben’s, not mine. Not ours.
“I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Yeah. Ben wasn’t going to do it, but I insisted. He may get married someday and she might want to have kids. Now they can.” Quinn pulls me to his shoulder for comfort. I’m supposed to be the one Ben marries.
It’s an hour later when the nurse lets us know Dr. Rock has left Ben’s room and he’s asking for me. I go in there, with Brenda left pouting in the waiting room. I knock before entering. Ben’s in bed with the covers askew.
“Hey.”
“Do you want to know how it went?”
I laugh. “No, I think I have a clear picture of what happens.”
“I think I should’ve read the pamphlet or something. The stuff she showed me . . .”
“The natural way, huh?”
“It was hard to perform, like that,” he says, completely mortified.
“Well, it’s done.”
“Yeah. Listen, I know we didn’t talk about this, but I had to sign some papers about what happens to my junk if I die. I gave it all to you and said you or whoever can have kids with it if I die.”
I smile softly and run my hand through his hair. “You’re not going to die.”
“I might.”
I shake my head. “Not on my watch,” I tell him.
The nurse returns and gives Ben a cap to put on. My heart starts to race, knowing it’s almost time for him to go into surgery. When the orderly comes and starts releasing the brakes on Ben’s bed, I have to fight back the tears.
“Don’t cry,” Ben says, quietly.
Nodding. “I love you, Ben.”
“Love you, Elle.”
Thankfully, I’m allowed to hold Ben’s hand until we reach the doors for surgery. He cracks some joke and tells us when we see him again, he’ll be ballless. Brad laughs, but Brenda, Quinn and I don’t find the humor in it.
Quinn walks me back to the waiting room. Before we round the corner, he tells me he has a surprise for me.
“What is it?”
He points and when my surprise comes into focus, I lose it. My sister rushes toward me, with her arms out wide, waiting to hug me. “Peyton,” her name comes out softly. “Oh, God, Peyton, I’m so scared.”
“We’ve got you, Elle. We’re here.” Her hand strokes my hair. “It’s okay,” she tells me while I cry into her shoulder. The next thing I know, we’re cocooned by Quinn. He’s protecting his sisters. Something he’s done from the moment we met him.