CHAPTER 39 BENNETT
BENNETT
“Honor to meet you, man,” Brody, Maple’s friend’s husband—yeah, a mouthful, I know—says as he shakes my hand. “Congrats on the wild card. Huge for the team.”
“Thank you,” I say as we stand outside one of his pop-up storefronts.
“Although, I’m a Rebels fan, so I can’t be rooting for you in the playoffs. Duty calls, you know.”
“Rebels?” I ask, sticking my hands in my jeans pockets. “Fan of Jason Orson?”
Brody perks up. “I am. Do you know him?”
“I’ve shaken his hand.”
“Which hand? Your right.” His eyes go straight to my hand and I take a step back.
“Dude, you’re being weird and I just met you.”
“Right, sorry.” He clears his throat and straightens out his suit coat. “Sorry, I just, umm, I get really excited about Jason Orson. Have you tried his potato salad recipe?”
I grip the back of my neck and say, “I really was just here to see the space.”
“Right, sorry.” He clears his throat again.
“Right this way.” He unlocks the door and opens it up to me while turning on the lights.
“This is what we like to call our library space because it’s double insulated, making it extremely quiet from the outside street noise.
And because of that, we decided to lean into a more studious decor, with earth tones, multiple styled rugs, and a variety of furniture that you can choose from in the back that ranges from leather chairs to velvet couches.
And it’s one of our only spaces that has a working fireplace.
” He walks over to the fireplace that’s inside an exposed brick wall and presses a button on the side, lighting up a fire.
I take in the space with its tall ceilings painted the same deep brown as the walls. The floors are old, worn wood that could probably be refurbished, but because of the vibe of the rest of the space, they’ve kept them to their original scuffs and I dig them.
“What do you think?” Brody asks.
“Hell,” I say, smoothing my hand over my jaw. “It’s kind of perfect. Can I see the furniture?”
“Sure.” But before he takes me to the back, he says, “And these curtains will cover the whole window, so there will be privacy, and we’re able to have security at the door as well, which I know was a concern.”
“Yeah, if we held this at the stadium, security would have been easier to control, but in a more open space like this, I think we would need it. Just to make sure everyone feels safe.”
“Agreed. Maggie has a company she works with that I can hook you up with, but if you have someone you work with already, that could work too.”
“I’ll ask Gretchen, my PR manager.”
“Sure.” He nods toward the back of the space and opens a door to an expansive closet that I was not expecting. It’s almost as big as the space and stacked with furniture, including couches, chairs, and tables.
“Holy shit,” I say, taking it all in, eyeing a few pieces that I think would work. “Wow, this space is almost bigger than the event space.”
“Yeah, we wanted to make sure we kept it quaint up front with a lot of options for decor to make it unique and your own.”
“Nice.” I run my hand over a deep turquoise couch. “I think this would be perfect with a few of the brown leather chairs and then some of the wooden ones. Scatter some of the coffee tables around, and that should be perfect.”
“That’s what I was thinking as well.”
“Can I take a picture to show my girl—” I pause, almost saying “girlfriend,” but just leave it at “girl.”
Brody nods. “Have at it.”
I snap a few pictures for Bower, and then we go out to the front of the space and I take some pictures there as well. Brody makes me take a picture of myself in front of the fireplace, which is so stupid, but he insisted.
When I’m done, I pocket my phone and say, “I think this works perfectly. Could we rent it once a month?”
“Of course. I can get you the details of the rental space along with all the legal bullshit that goes with it, and we can get this set up for you pretty quickly.”
“That’s great. Thank you, man. I really appreciate it.” I hold out my hand and he takes it, his eyes closing for a second, freaking me out. “Are you trying to feel Jason Orson’s essence?” I ask.
Looking guilty, he says, “How long ago was it? Have you washed since then?”
“What the hell do you think?”
“I want to say no, but that’s just a guess.”
“Jesus.” I shake my head and take off toward the door. “You’re lucky that I’m just desperate enough to put up with that shit, or else I’d be looking for another space.”
“Glad you reek of desperation, then.”
“I’m sure you are.”
“I’ll be in touch.”
“Yeah, thanks.” I give him a nod, not wanting to go for another handshake, and then I hop into my car, my driver pulling away from the curb as I buckle up.
I take my phone out again and send the pictures to Bower.
Bennett: Hope this place works for you, because I confirmed with the guy that it would work for us.
I flip through my emails and see one from Gretchen, asking if I’ve found a space, so I send her an email with the pictures inside it. I sort of want to tell her off, but I know what little that will do. She’s unaffected by that kind of shit.
Just as I press send on her email, Bower texts me back.
Bower: OH MY GOD! Bennett, are you serious right now? That’s…that’s perfect.
Smiling to myself because I know how happy this will make her, I type her back.
Bennett: And the fireplace works too. We could really have a cozy gathering.
I press send just as Gabby texts me.
I click on her message next.
Gabby: Ryland just surprised me with tickets to watch the wild card game! Ahhhh, I’m going to come see you play.
Smiling, I’m about to respond when Bower texts back. I read the preview message.
Bower: Thank you for finding this place. It means so much to me.
I press reply and type her back.
Bennett: I got you, beautiful. We’re in this together.
Once I press send, I go back to Gabby’s message, only to realize that I just texted her…
I texted her the response I was sending to Bower.
Fuck!
The immediate need to fucking throw up churns the pit of my stomach as a clammy sweat breaks out over my entire body.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
What do I do?
What the fuck do I do?
Doesn’t really matter, though, when my phone buzzes and a reply from Gabby shows up.
Gabby: Umm…excuse me? Who is beautiful? And you’re in this together with who?
FUCK!
I don’t…I don’t know what the hell to do or how to handle this. I can’t tell her the truth. Bower would never forgive me, and from the convo I just had with her, she’s not even close to being ready to tell Gabby.
My phone vibrates again, but this time, Gabby is calling.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath as I answer the phone and close my eyes, bracing for impact. “Hello?”
“Bennett Brinkman,” she practically squeals into the phone. “Who was that text meant for? Because I know it wasn’t meant for me.”
“What, uh…what are you talking about?” I ask, knowing there is no way she’s going to buy it, but I’m just trying to gain a little more time to think about how I’m going to handle this.
“Do not mess around with me. You said, ‘I got you, beautiful. We’re in this together.’ So who is beautiful and why are you in whatever you’re in together?”
“Oh that, yeah, uh, that’s awkward,” I say. “That did go to the wrong person.”
“Uh-huh, and who was it supposed to go to?”
“Great question, might be weird if I tell you, though, so—”
“Bennett, don’t you dare. Who was it supposed to go to?”
A crazy idea hits the forefront of my mind, and because I really don’t have any other way around this, I go with it.
“Yeah, that was actually meant for Nolan.”
“Nolan?” I can hear the doubt already in her voice. “You call Nolan beautiful?”
“Yup,” I say, with all the certainty I can muster. “Started, uh, a few weeks ago and we just carry it through. You know how superstitious we can be, especially during playoffs. Can’t change anything, so yeah, he’s beautiful and we’re, uh, we’re in this together.”
There’s silence on the other end of the phone, and honestly, I think that’s a surprisingly good explanation. Believable, doesn’t open it up to many questions.
I think she’s going to buy it.
“You’re lying to me.”
Or maybe not.
“And I don’t know why you’re lying to me, but there has to be a reason, because you would never lie to me. We established from the very beginning that we would always be truthful with each other because we’re all each other have.”
Christ, she’s going to go there? Over a misplaced text? That almost seems…cruel.
I can’t even say that I’m lying to her because I can’t muster it.
So instead, I stay silent, hating that I can’t tell her the truth, because honestly, if this was any other woman, I’d be gushing to fucking Gabby right about now.
Tell her how I’m falling in love, how I know I’ve found the person I want to spend the rest of my life with, even talk to her about proposals and all that bullshit that I know she’d be hyperfixated on.
But I can’t do any of that, because it’s Bower.
“You know what? It’s fine,” she says. “You don’t have to tell me. I get it. Maybe it’s new and you’re still feeling it out, but will you promise me something?”
I’m hesitant to say yes, but then again I don’t think I have much of an option.
“Sure,” I say.
“Thank you. When you’re ready, will you tell me all about her? Give me the scoop. Don’t leave one droplet behind.”
Hell…
“Promise me, Bennett. It’s the least you can do for my little romantic heart.”
“When did you develop a romantic heart?”
“Ever since I fell in love. I want everyone else to be in love, too, including you. Wait, oh my God, are you in love?”
Yes.
“Are you nervous you’re going to jinx it, and that’s why you haven’t said anything to me?”
No.
I haven’t said anything because it’s your best friend.
“Uh, Gabby, I’m pulling up to the stadium,” I say, even though that’s a lie, which fucking sucks, but I can’t handle the stress of this moment. “I have to go.”
“Bennett, don’t you dare hang up on me.”
“I love you, sis,” I say, guilt consuming me.
“Bennett Brinkman, at least tell me what her name starts with.”
“Glad you got tickets. Text me the details. Love you,” I say quickly and then hang up the phone.
I stare down at the screen, my heart racing a mile a minute while my skin prickles with fear.
What the fuck did I just do?
And how much is this going to hurt me?