Chapter 24
Chapter
Twenty-Four
Kelly stood outside Ben’s room, her hand raised to knock. She hesitated for a moment before telling herself to get a grip and a spine. She could do this. Not apologizing after acting like an asshole wasn’t an option. He deserved better.
She knocked twice, quick and sharp.
The door opened almost immediately, which meant he'd been waiting on the other side.
Ben stood there in the same dress shirt from the rehearsal dinner, untucked now, sleeves rolled to the elbows.
His eyes swept over her face, taking in what she knew must be a disaster.
Red-rimmed eyes. Smeared mascara she hadn't bothered to fix.
Hair that had started the evening in an elegant twist and now resembled something a bird might nest in.
She’d hid her face in the lobby, not wanting to scare people.
He stepped back and gestured her inside without a word.
The room was exactly what she'd expected from a roadside hotel ten miles outside Bergen. Beige walls, a generic landscape print bolted to the wall so no one could steal it, a king-sized bed with a polyester bedspread that probably hadn't been updated since the Clinton administration.
Ben's suitcase sat on the luggage rack, zipped closed. His phone lay on the nightstand next to a half-empty water bottle.
This was where she'd sent him. Out of a comfortable condo and into this.
Kelly clutched her purse in front of her like a shield and stayed near the door.
The space between them felt wider than the actual distance, which was maybe three feet.
She'd rehearsed what to say during the cab ride over. The cab driver, a young man who moonlighted on the weekends for extra money, had even offered advice she hadn't asked for. She hadn’t even told him the story at all, but he’d taken one look at her face and figured that something had gone down.
“Just talk it through,” he'd told her. "The rest takes care of itself."
Simple advice. Hard to execute when her hands wouldn't stop shaking.
"I talked to Celia tonight," she began.
No preamble, no small talk. She didn't have the energy for a warm-up.
“After I talked to Dad. She told me I was making a scene. That everything was calm until I showed up. That Mom's been checking her blood pressure all day because of me, and Rob had to take an antacid or something like that. She said they’re all happier when I’m not there.”
She paused, letting that sink in. Not for dramatic effect, but because her throat had tightened and she needed a second.
“And of course, you know that my dad pulled me aside earlier in the evening to tell me he'd investigated you. He was so pleased with himself for knowing something I didn't. I told him that I already knew, but I don’t think he believed me.” She pressed her lips together.
“He got this satisfied look on his face.
He'd proven once again that I make bad choices and can't take care of myself. That I’m incompetent and need him to run my life for me.”
Ben stood by the bed, his arms at his sides. He was listening. Just listening. Not interrupting, not defending, not trying to fix anything. It was such a foreign experience with a man in her life that she almost didn't know how to handle it.
"And then Celia basically told me I should skip the wedding. That she didn't care if I came or not. 'Do whatever you want,' she said, like I was some stranger off the street instead of her sister. She said I was selfish and self-involved. Maybe she’s right.”
Kelly shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Her heels were killing her. She should have changed shoes before coming here, but she'd been in too much of a hurry to think about practical things like footwear.
"I don't think they want me at the wedding," she went on.
"But I'm not going to give them the satisfaction of telling everyone what a terrible daughter and sister I am.
I'm going to grit my teeth and smile and tell everyone how happy Trevor and Celia are going to be.
I'll eat the cake and throw the rice, the birdseed, or whatever they're using, and I'll be the perfect guest. Because the alternative is giving them a decade's worth of ammunition, and I'm done supplying them with things to use against me. "
She took a breath. Here came the hard part.
"And I have to apologize to you. I was dumping all of my emotional bullshit on you, and it wasn't fair. You didn't deserve any of that. Not one word of it."
The room was quiet except for the hum of the air conditioning unit under the window. Silence. What was he thinking?
Ben's posture shifted. The rigid line of his shoulders softened, and he tilted his head slightly, studying her face.
"You're not mad at me anymore?" he asked.
Kelly shook her head, more tears pricking the back of her eyes. She’d hurt him, and that’s the least thing she’d wanted to do.
“No. I think I was just mad at my family, but you were the safe one to get angry with."
She set her purse down on the desk, not needing the armor any longer.
"If I get mad at my family, they tell me that I'm being too emotional and that I need to calm down and make sense.
They tell me there's nothing to be upset about, and if anyone should be upset, it's them.
It's been that way my entire life. I get angry, and they flip it around until suddenly I'm the one apologizing for having feelings in the first place. "
She met his eyes. He was still watching her with that steady, patient attention that had drawn her to him from the beginning.
"You just happened to be the next person I talked to.
A safe person. After my dad, after Celia.
I was full of all this anger that had nowhere to go, and you were standing right there.
And the thing about you, Ben, is that I knew you wouldn't flip it around on me.
I knew you wouldn't tell me I was crazy or overreacting.
Which is exactly why I felt safe enough to unload on you. "
She almost laughed at the twisted logic of it. The person she trusted most was the person she'd treated the worst.
"I feel safe with you," she said. "And I used that against you tonight. That's on me, and I am so sorry. You didn’t deserve that. Any of that.”
The words hung in the air between them. Kelly waited, her heart beating too fast, her hands finally still at her sides. She'd said what she came to say. The rest was up to him.
Ben sat down on the edge of the bed, and Kelly took that as permission to move further into the room. She pulled out the desk chair and sat, crossing her legs at the ankle like she was at a job interview rather than in a hotel room trying to save whatever this was between them.
The distance between the bed and the desk wasn’t far, but it might as well have been an ocean.
Close enough to talk without raising their voices.
Far enough to maintain the pretense that this was a civilized conversation between two adults and not two people who had been tangled together on couch cushions less than twenty-four hours ago.
"I'm glad you came," Ben said. His voice was quiet, and there was no edge to it. No residual anger, no bitterness. Just Ben, being Ben. "But give me a heads up next time. Before you go nuclear."
Kelly slowly blew out a breath of relief. She hadn't realized how tightly she'd been holding herself until the tension released. The relief was so immediate and so physical that she almost slumped forward in the chair.
"Deal," she said. "Fair warning before detonation. Got it."
The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. Not quite a smile, but close. Progress.
Maybe she had a shot at fixing all of this.
"Seriously," Kelly said. "You're a good guy."
And that was when his expression changed. Not anger, not hurt. Something closer to concern, and it was directed squarely at her.
"This," he said, pointing between them. "This is what I'm worried about, sweetheart.
I'm not a hero on a white horse. I'm just a regular guy who eats too many Cheetos and watches bad television when I'm bored.
I have a temper. I get impatient. And I'm a workaholic.
You haven't seen those sides of me because we've been doing this thing together, but I'm far from perfect.
Please don't put me up on some pedestal because I'm destined to fall. "
She hadn't expected that. She'd expected him to accept the compliment, maybe deflect with a joke. Instead, he was actively trying to lower her expectations, which was possibly the most attractive thing a man had ever done in her presence.
Her family had always insisted on maintaining appearances.
The Bateman household ran on the principle that if you pretended everything was fine, it became fine in some magical way.
Problems weren't discussed. Flaws weren't acknowledged.
Weaknesses were buried under layers of denial and deflection until they calcified into something permanent and toxic.
And here was Ben Reilly, voluntarily listing his shortcomings like items on a grocery receipt.
"I think I can handle Cheetos and bad TV," she said.
"Other women have said the same and then bailed." He rubbed the back of his neck. "According to the last one, I'm a self-centered pain in the ass."
Kelly raised an eyebrow. "Are you?"
Ben ran a hand through his hair, leaving it sticking up at odd angles that somehow made him look younger, less polished. More real.
"So, at times I am," he admitted. "Which is why I don't want you to think that I can't be.
I spent years on Wall Street working eighty-hour weeks and canceling plans because something came up at the office.
I missed birthdays, holidays, my sister's first day as sheriff, and my dad’s last day.
I told myself it was temporary, that I'd slow down eventually, but I never did.
Not until the company fell apart and slowed down for me. "