Chapter 28
I slam the door behind me as I leave Jules and Thea’s house.
As anticipated, it’s only a moment before I hear the door open and close again.
“Go back inside, Benjamin,” I call over my shoulder.
The last thing I want to do right now is talk to him.
Not after he just embarrassed me in front of his entire fucking family.
And his mom who is colleagues with all of the people who will determine my future success.
I’m frantically searching for my car so I can escape this nightmare but I can’t find it anywhere.
“Red, c’mon.” His long legs carry him to me entirely too quickly. I couldn’t escape even if I tried.
And I am trying. But this fucking scarf is making me so damn hot. I’m extremely overstimulated and I need to be home with Ernest, not here with the man who sends my nervous system into overdrive. Where is my fucking car?!
Ben catches ahold of my wrist, turning me back toward him. I wrench my arm free, yanking my scarf off as well. A crease forms between Ben’s brows as he takes me in.
“You are sweating, Colette. Let me take you home.”
“I can take myself home, thank you.”
“I drove you here,” he calmly replies, taking the stupid scarf out of my hands.
Right. That’s why I can’t find my car.
My entire body deflates. I’m hot and numb and I really do just want to go home.
“Fine. But I’m not talking about this right now.”
“That’s fair.” Ben guides me by my elbow toward his car, opening the door and helping me in.
I don’t have the energy to bat him away.
In fact, my traitorous body melts into his touch.
Once he’s buckled me in, like I’m a damn toddler, he brackets me in, leaning closer than strictly necessary.
“I am sorry, for what it’s worth. I had this wild thought, looking at how happy Jules and Thea are, hell even Bex and Anders who have been sickeningly in love for so damn long.
And I want that with you. I wanted to…” He shrugs.
“Rip the bandaid off? Maybe you’ll never speak to me again after this, and that would—”
I kiss him.
Mainly because I need him to shut the fuck up. But also because he’s—ugh, I don’t want to admit this—not wrong. I am the kind of person who would need a bandaid ripped off or I’d keep things with Ben just as they are for the rest of eternity.
That’s not what he wants, though. He’s been more than upfront about that from the time he waltzed back into my life.
So I kiss him. It’s slow, tender. Not quite an acquiescence but maybe something close. “Take me home, Benjamin.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he whispers.
When we get back to my apartment, the lights are perfectly dim. Ben ushers me to my couch, surrounding me with piles of blankets and pillows. He lets Ernest out and then walks over to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. “Music or TV?” he asks when he delivers the steaming mug to my little nest.
“TV, please.”
Ernest jumps onto the couch with me when he’s been let back in. I expect Ben to leave, but he surprises me by sitting on the ground in front of me, his focus on the new puzzle I laid out yesterday.
He doesn’t say anything else, but he’s here with me. And that’s more than I could ever bring myself to ask of him. I snuggle in, getting comfortable. So much so, I drift off into one of the best naps of my life.
I wake up an undetermined amount of time later, confused about why I’m moving. I’m hot again, plastered against something… no, someone. Cracking an eye open, I see that I’m moving through my hallway toward the bedroom. Well, being carried through my hallway by Ben’s strong, capable arms.
“Go back to sleep, Red,” he whispers against my temple. When I ignore his instructions and look up at him, I see he’s put on his reading glasses and his hair is more rumpled than usual.
“I like the glasses,” I murmur sleepily. I feel his chest rumble in response.
“I think you made yourself sick, Colette.”
I start to shake my head but fuck, that hurts. Maybe he’s right. I scowl. He’s been right too much lately, I need to figure out a way to remedy that.
“Head hurts. Pain meds in the bathroom cabinet.” He nods, placing me delicately on my bed before fetching some medicine.
The bed dips as he sits next to me. I curl toward him, now fully aware that I’m very feverish. Cold then hot, head pounding. A general desire to keel over.
“Open up.” Ben taps lightly under my chin. I push up to a seated position and take the proffered pills and glass of water. “All because you had to hide your hickey,” he admonishes.
“That’s not how sickness works.”
My eyes are closed, but I can feel his shrug. “That’s what I’m blaming this on. Next time, just wear the ring and show off the hickey.”
“Aye-aye.”
“Oh my God,” he whispers. “Are you agreeing with me? You must be sicker than I thought you were.”
“I am really fucking sick in the head, obviously. That’s why I haven’t kicked you out yet.”
He hums, standing up. I miss his proximity instantly.
“Wait,” I mutter.
His chuckle sounds distant. “I’m not leaving, Red. Be right back.”
There’s a distinct possibility that I drift off before he returns, but I’m awoken by a cool washcloth being placed across my forehead. It feels really, really nice. Both the washcloth and being taken care of.
He comes around to the other side of the bed, and I can hear him shucking clothes off before he slides under the covers next to me.
“You’re staying?”
“Of course I’m staying, Colette.”
He’s quiet for a long time, rubbing reassuring circles on my back. It feels good… it feels right.
Right before I fall back into blissful oblivion, I hear his deep voice say, “I’m staying as long as you’ll let me.”
I might have been imagining it.
I’m probably imagining it.
My dreams are full of glasses and floppy hair and strong hands and tally mark tattoos.
The next morning, I wake up in a pool of sweat with an expanse of cold sheets next to me.
Disappointment crashes into me. I’ll just shove that down to be dealt with… never.
Groaning, I sit up. My fever broke, but I still feel like shit.
I could use some more pain meds for my head, and a bath sounds divine.
My stomach, however, disagrees with that order of events, letting out an obnoxious growl.
I’m dreading how long it’s going to take me to get to the kitchen.
If someone walked in right now and told me I was hit by a bus yesterday, I would believe them.
I’m about five seconds into my pep talk when my bedroom door slowly creaks open.
A shaggy-haired, glasses-wearing, jawline-that-could-cut-glass man creeps into the room carrying a tray full of something.
Ben is so focused on not dropping anything that he hasn’t realized that I’m awake.
He walks over to the dresser and carefully sets down what can only be described as a full feast of home remedies.
He turns toward me, practically jumping out of his skin when he sees that I’m awake. “Holy shit, Colette! You scared me!”
“I scared you… By sitting here in my bed…”
The corner of his mouth lifts, even as he continues to clutch his chest. “Glad to see you’re feeling better.”
I huff. “I wouldn’t go that far.” Craning my neck, I try to see what all he’s brought in. “Is that for me?”
“No, it’s for Ernest,” he deadpans. “Of course it’s for you. Sit back.”
He places the tray in front of me, and maybe my physical state is affecting my emotional state, but I think those are tears pressing at the corners of my eyes.
There’s a bowl of chicken noodle soup that looks homemade, another cup of tea, an assortment of medications, a pedialyte popsicle, and plain crackers.
“You slept until midday. How are you actually feeling?” he asks, pushing my sweat-soaked hair off my brow.
“I look like shit, don’t I?” I ask, instead of answering his question.
He grins down at me. “Yeah, you do. And somehow you have the ability to make looking like shit also extremely hot. I shouldn’t be surprised.”
“Gross. You should leave me to wither away in peace.”
“Not going to happen, Red. Eat. I’m going to clean up the kitchen and then we’ll get you into the bath, okay?”
A completely unfair question because he knows that I can’t say no to that. “Wait!” I call once he gets to the doorway. “Is this soup homemade?” I know for a fact that I did not have the appropriate ingredients for a full-ass chicken noodle soup.
He responds with a lopsided grin. “Eat up, Red.”
I do, and of course it’s delectable. I think one bowl of this soup could heal me from anything.
Upon closer inspection, Ben used shredded chicken and a minimal amount of vegetables.
The egg noodles are perfectly cooked, not long spaghetti noodles which I hate, and I think I might want to bathe in this broth.
Dammit.
When he comes back in, I’ve devoured the entire bowl, half of the crackers, and the popsicle, because logically I know that I need to hydrate. I feel like Oliver Twist when I offer my bowl up to him requesting more.
“Bath first, then you can have more soup.”
“Bossy.”
“You’re welcome for taking care of your pathetic ass.”
I raise my eyebrow at him. “I remember you quite liking my ass.”
He groans, taking my shoulders to guide me into the bathroom. “No more ass talk. Only very innocent, very practical touching until you feel better. Got it, Red?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Hmm… Yeah, I need you back to your dominant self.”
That surprises a laugh out of me. “Don’t like it when I let you take control?”
“Turns out I prefer a snarky, controlling woman who knows exactly what she wants.” He bends down to adjust the taps on the bath. “I live to serve,” he adds, smirking over his shoulder.
Once the water is warm, not as hot as I usually like it but Ben was insistent, he carefully strips off the sweat-soaked clothes I wore to bed and helps me into the tub. He lights my favorite candles and then instructs me to “Relax.”
He comes back about fifteen minutes later with two towels folded in his arms. “Fresh out of the dryer, but if you aren’t ready to get out yet, I can pop them back in.”
I pull my legs in close to my chest and observe him. “Why are you doing this?”
Ben sets the towels on the counter and then has a seat on the edge of the tub. With a sigh, he says, “What are you really asking, Red?”
“I—” I’m not sure. “I’m still mad at you for that stunt you pulled yesterday.”
“Obviously,” he smirks.
“Has your family said anything about your… announcement?”
“My sister and Jules called me an idiot, and Mom is the one who sent over the recipe for the soup because she’s so worried I fucked everything up with you.”
“Hmm.” I sink lower into the bath, unsure what to make of that.
Ben lets me think, gives me space to examine all of the thoughts running through my head. He’s antsy though because a few minutes later he asks, “Did I?”
“Did you what?”
“Fuck everything up.”
“What would you do if I said yes?” I look up at him, a lock of his chestnut hair falling across his forehead. He’s so handsome, it makes every molecule in my body buzz.
He contemplates my question for a moment. Tentatively, he reaches out to trace my jawline, over my cheekbones, around the shell of my ear. His touch makes me feel… precious. Like I’m precious to him.
“If you said yes…” he starts. “If you decided that I had fucked everything up, I would have to come to terms with going back to how it was before. I would respect your decision and loathe the fact that it would send me back to square one.” He twists my ponytail around his fist, tilting my chin toward him.
“I’ve been at square one with you before, Colette.
I’m not itching to go back, but I will. I would do it all over again if I could earn even just one more minute in your presence. One more of your scathing glances.”
His lips quirk. And damn, that answer was perfect.
I lay my forearms across the edge of the tub, resting my head on top and looking up at Ben. “No.”
“No?” he questions.
“No, you didn’t fuck everything up, Benoit.”
“I… I’m glad, Colette.” He smirks.
“Can I have some more soup now?”
“Yeah, sweetheart,” he concedes. “You can have more soup now.”