9. Ben
CHAPTER NINE
ben
MY EYES
I pull up in front of Katy’s house exactly three minutes early and immediately regret it.
Too desperate.
I force myself to sit in the car like a normal person who is not overthinking a yoga class.
I finally ring the doorbell, and she answers a moment later in her cute purple yoga pants, with her hair pulled back, water bottle in one hand, the other on her lower back like she’s already tired.
She smiles when she sees me, small and a little cautious. For one stupid second, I forget every sentence I prepared.
“Hey.” She steps outside.
“Hey. Ready?”
She eyes the car. “I think so.”
“Unless you’d prefer to bail,” I offer.
She laughs softly. “Let’s try not to bail on the first day.”
The drive is quiet but not awkward. Just… careful. Like we’re both trying not to step on something fragile.
When we pull into the parking lot, she looks up at the sign.
“So.” She glances around. “You’ve been here before?”
“Yeah,” I answer automatically. “With Ella.”
“That’s kind of cute.”
I snort. “It was ridiculous. She was a literal nightmare.”
That gets me her real laugh, and fuck, it does something to me.
I help her out of the car and then open the studio door for her.
“Ben!” one of the instructors says brightly as soon as we step inside. “Oh my gosh, it’s so good to see you.”
I blink. “Uh. Hi, Cindy.”
“How’s Ella doing?” another instructor asks. “We haven’t seen her in a while. We’ve missed you guys!”
I feel Katy stiffen beside me. It’s not exactly a secret that I was a little bit of a fuckboy in the past. I’m the starting quarterback at a major football school. I get why Katy would make assumptions.
“She’s good,” I say quickly. “Busy but good. This is Katy.”
Cindy smiles. “Nice to meet you, Katy. Welcome.”
I guide Katy towards where our class will be, my palm on her lower back.
Her eyebrows knit together. “You seem very close with these teachers.”
I glance at her and suddenly wish I’ve never spoken to any other girl in my entire life. “Not in the way you’re thinking, Katy Cat. I just used to bribe them with chocolates so they would help me deal with Ella.”
Katy tilts her head. “You were very invested in her Pilates journey.”
“Well, she needed it. Needed me. She didn’t take the breakup well, so I thought that getting fit could help.”
She snorts.
“Well, fit-adjacent,” I amend.
That gets another reluctant smile out of her. Still, there’s something else there. Confusion. Maybe a flicker of jealousy. It’s subtle, but I see it.
“Or you thought her teachers were cute.”
My voice softens. “It wasn’t like that. I just wanted them to help her.”
She nods. “Okay.” But she doesn’t quite look convinced.
Before I can say anything else, she steps into the yoga room and immediately freezes.
“Wait.” She grabs my arm. “I need a second.”
“What’s wrong?” I’m already alert.
“It smells.” She swallows. “Too much like incense. My nose is… very pregnant.” She presses a hand to her forehead. “I got a little dizzy.”
I look around. The air is thick with sandalwood and something floral that feels aggressive.
“Why,” I mutter, “do they have these many smells in a room full of pregnant women?”
She laughs weakly. “Right?”
I guide her to a chair. “Sit. Don’t move.”
I turn to the nearest instructor. “Hey. Hi. Is there any way to turn off… all of this?”
She blinks. “Oh! Of course. We usually keep it light, but…”
“It’s not light,” I say. “It’s a lot. It can’t be good for the babies.”
She nods immediately. “Of course.”
“And can we open a few windows?” I ask.
Katy looks at me like she’s not sure whether to laugh or cry.
Within minutes, the incense is gone, and the windows are cracked open. The room feels breathable again.
I crouch in front of her. “Better?”
She inhales slowly. “Much.”
“Good.” I nod. “If you feel dizzy again, we leave. Okay?”
She studies me. “You’re very… intense.”
“I’m just being responsible.” I hold her gaze. “There’s a difference.”
“Thank you. For doing this.”
“Of course,” I squeeze her hands. “I wanted you to feel okay.”
She nods, something soft settling between us, careful and new.
I like that it was me who did that for her.
I can’t remember the last time something felt this important.
KATY
The rain doesn’t start until we’re halfway back to my house.
At first, it’s just a few drops, tapping against the windshield like an afterthought. The kind of rain you assume will pass.
Yoga was fun. We laughed the whole time. And lunch was amazing. Easy. Just joking about stupid things. The kind of normal that sneaks up on you and makes you forget about your problems.
By the time Ben pulls up to the curb, it’s coming down harder.
“I can run.” I’m already reaching for the door.
“No.” He catches my arm. “I’ll walk you. I don’t want you to fall.”
He grabs his sweatshirt and tries to cover me with it, but it’s useless. We’re soaked by the time we make it to the porch, laughing despite ourselves, hair damp, clothes clinging.
Then we stop. The rain smells the same.
Memory has absolutely no chill.
“Remember your first bonfire?” Ben asks quietly.
My fingers freeze around my purse.
I look at him, rain streaking down his face, and my breath catches in a way that still feels unfair. “It’s one of my favorite memories. Ever.”
Something shifts in his expression.
“Katy,” he says, and there’s no joking left now. He looks wrecked. “I’m so sorry.”
I let out a short breath. “You don’t get to say it like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like it fixes anything.” My voice shakes, but I don’t stop. “You don’t get to show up now, acting like this, when you ignored me. It was my first time, Ben.”
“I know.” His voice stays steady. “I should’ve been there.”
“You should’ve called. Or texted. Or done literally anything.”
“I know.”
“We don’t even know if this baby is yours,” I add, the words spilling out before I can stop them. “I wasn’t lying when I said there are other possible fathers. I was so hurt, I kind of went a little crazy. You don’t get to act like this is…”
“I wasn’t,” his voice softens.
I look at him, rain clinging to his lashes, anger and want tangled together so tightly it makes me dizzy.
We’re too close.
I don’t remember stepping forward. I just know his hands are suddenly on my waist, warm and familiar, like they never forgot where they belonged.
I kiss him.
Or maybe he kisses me.
It’s desperate and amazing and it completely wrecks me in half a second.
Then I pull back. If he didn’t want me then, how can he want me now?
“No,” I breathe. “Wait. No.”
He freezes instantly.
“You should go, Ben. You hurt me too much.”
He nods right away. No argument. No hesitation. “Okay.”
He takes a step back, rain filling the space between us.
Then he stops.
“I’ll go,” he says quietly. “But don’t pretend you’re not hoping that this baby has my eyes.”
My breath catches.
This fucker.
How does he know that?
Yes, I have been hoping this baby looks like him. But I also can’t forgive him for what he broke.
He doesn’t wait for me to say anything else; he just turns and walks back into the rain.
And I miss him already.
Katy
This absolutely does not mean you’re my best friend. But I don’t know what to do. And it’d be weird to tell Ella.
Rebecca
Spill
Katy
We kissed…
Rebecca
And?
Katy
I liked it. Too much. But I’m still soooo mad at him. But also, he’s too cute to stay mad at. It’s like being mad at a puppy.
Rebecca
You’re allowed to still be mad. But you’re also allowed to forgive him if that’s what your heart wants. There’s a lot of strength in that too.
Rebecca
Also, Ella told him she wasn’t baking him any cookies because of what he did, but she caved on day two. So at least you’re stronger than her.
Katy
Winning! Ha.
Katy
But seriously, thanks Bex.
Rebecca
Anytime, bestie.
Katy
Still not your bestie.
Rebecca
Stop fighting it.