Chapter 8
B en lifted the blinds and squinted out the window onto his front porch, checking for Nell’s car again. He’d asked her to come here again, and drive him on yet another errand, because he hadn’t been able to stop himself. And to the clinic, where he hadn’t set foot in a month.
There was no need for this impromptu field trip. He was all set to go back to work on Monday, starting with half days. He could handle it now, after this week’s outings. Probably.
But he’d had to see her one more time. It hadn’t been enough to say goodbye in front of her son, when he couldn’t say everything on his mind. Maybe if she saw the clinic, saw how much it meant to him, and how she’d helped bring him back to his work, she’d understand the magnitude of what she’d done for him.
That had been the thought when he’d texted her last night. Now, nerves blasted through him when her battered silver sedan pulled up at the curb. She slid out of the driver’s seat and he dropped the blinds.
He checked his suit, smoothing a hand over the vest. Nothing out of place, except his stupid heart, which knocked around his ribcage at the sight of her coming up the drive.
He made himself wait a few beats before opening the door. His brain stopped like it always did around her as she smiled, looking genuinely happy to see him.
He cleared his throat. “Thank you again for coming.”
“I’m glad to take you. I have to admit I’m curious about your clinic, now that I’ve met all your patients.”
“I hadn’t thought of it, but you have, haven’t you?”
She nodded. “And they had nothing but good things to say about you. They all said you’re the best.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” he murmured. She’d replaced her usual outfit with black jeans and a blue polo shirt with a coffee shop logo. “Your other job is at a coffee shop?”
“One day on the weekend, sometimes Saturday and sometimes Sunday. My neighbor watches Marco. I didn’t have time to change before I came, and okay, that is definitely a coffee stain.” She brushed a self-conscious hand over her shirt.
“It’s not a problem.” He’d made her come all the way out to his house after working a six-day week, and she was worried about her shirt. “But you must be tired. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather do this another day?”
She shook her head with a little smile. “I’m here already, anyway. Should we get going? My maps app says it’s twenty minutes to downtown. Less traffic on Saturday.”
“That sounds about right. I’m ready if you are.”
Anxiety didn’t even strike him on the short walk to the car, a huge difference from a week ago. Inside the car was another matter, because there were a couple of factors he hadn’t anticipated. The car was much smaller than the van, and he was a tall man. He sat much closer to her than he’d been before, their shoulders almost brushing in the small space.
He could smell the coffee shop on her—bitter and toasty, with a sweet hint of caramel or hazelnut syrup layered on top. He shut his eyes and tried not to inhale too deeply.
“Doing okay?” she asked, buckling her seatbelt.
“Yes. Fine.”
“Do you want to tell me the address?”
Ben told her, and she programmed it into her phone. “And we’re off. I only have an hour or so. I have to go pick up Marco soon.”
“Understood.” He gripped the door handle, as if that would keep him safe from looking at her too much.
The drive was familiar, but not. It had been so long. New construction had cropped up on the highway, lanes closed that hadn’t been before. Even the trees looked different, bursting with pale green early leaves.
“So, you mentioned looking for a third job.”
The corner of her mouth turned down. “I don’t want a third job, of course. It will mean more time away from Marco. But we need the money.”
She put on her turn signal and took the highway exit. “I’m hoping to find something I can do online from home, maybe while he’s asleep, or when there’s free time.”
“I can’t imagine you have a lot of free time.”
She gave a little laugh. “Not much. But I’ll manage. This is a nice part of town.”
They’d turned into the older, residential neighborhood that housed the clinic, where restored Victorian homes stood on both sides of quiet, brick streets.
“When I set up the clinic, I wanted it to feel more comfortable, less medical. So we bought a house instead.”
“These houses are huge, though.”
“They are. Definitely big enough for our needs. The clinic has three floors, with fourteen treatment rooms and three sitting rooms total. I can’t imagine it as a family home, but it was, at one point.”
Ben’s pulse picked up as they got closer. The clinic had been his home away from home, and he hadn’t seen it in weeks. His return was due in large part to the woman sitting next to him, and she didn’t even realize it.
“This is it.” He pointed as she turned down a street lined with Bradford pear trees. Their branches, thick with white blossoms, formed an archway over the brick street.
“Oh. It’s so beautiful. With the trees in bloom.”
“This is a good time of year to visit. You can park there, in the driveway. There won’t be anyone here on a Saturday.”
They pulled up to the clinic, and Nell parked next to the hand-painted sign with the clinic’s name. His throat tightened at the sight of the familiar building with its slate-blue exterior, white trim, and wraparound porch.
“Thank you for driving. I haven’t been in so long.”
She put the car in park and turned to face him. “I can already tell, this place is amazing. I’m glad you asked me to come.”
Ben took a breath and pulled himself together. “Let me show you around.”
Together, they climbed the porch steps. He unlocked the heavy oak door, disarmed the security system, and flipped on the lights of the main reception area. They’d furnished it like an old-fashioned sitting room, with velvet and floral couches, leather armchairs, and stained glass lamps. The reception desk was an old oak rolltop Vanessa had dug up at one of the estate sales she couldn’t stay away from.
“This is the main floor reception area. We have sitting rooms on each of the other floors as well.”
“It’s so homey. It feels like a place people would come to relax. And I love the style.” Nell’s eyes scanned around them as they walked.
“That’s mostly my co-worker Vanessa’s doing. She’s good at finding vintage furniture and making it all look right together.”
He walked down the hallway, flipping on more lights as they went. “These smaller rooms used to be bedrooms, but they’ve been converted into individual treatment rooms. We have six therapists and two nurses on staff now. But when we started out, it was just me and Vanessa. She’s the other senior counselor on staff.”
He motioned for her to follow him up a flight of stairs. “My office is on the third floor.”
At the top of the staircase, they passed the third-floor reception area and he took out another key to unlock his office. Stepping inside was like going back in time, with everything as he’d left it, from the organized cherrywood desk to the leather couch piled with neutral-toned pillows. Someone had been dusting and watering his plants while he’d been gone.
Behind him, Nell hummed appreciatively. “This is amazing. What a view.”
“It’s not too bad, right?” The bay windows spanned most of one wall, showing the city skyline and the trees in bloom, pink and white.
He’d never be here, if it hadn’t been for her help, and he still hadn’t figured out a way to say the words to her. But he had to tell her, to at least let her know a small part of his feelings, if not the whole of them.
Ben turned to face her. She walked the perimeter of his office, studying the walls. She’d folded her arms across her chest, as if trying not to touch anything.
“Is that you?” She squinted at a framed news article on the wall, which included a photo of Ben in a TV studio, shaking the show host’s hand.
“Is that Good Morning USA ?” Her voice rose in disbelief.
He huffed out a laugh. “That was a terrible segment. I was so anxious, I could barely get a word out, even though I’d practiced everything I wanted to say.”
She rounded on him. “Are you famous? Like, people know who you are?”
He shook his head. “I doubt that many people know who I am. I wrote some books that got a lot of attention, for a while. I started this clinic. I do speaking engagements. Or at least, I used to. But most people don’t follow the psychology world.”
“But people who do …”
“Would know who I am, yes.” He slid his hands into his pockets, studying her face, which was rapidly changing from surprise to horror.
“Why didn’t I know any of that? I could have searched you online, I guess. Maybe I should have. I mean, you bought this place, set up a whole clinic by yourself—”
“I’m so glad you didn’t search me.” Going by her expression, if she’d known more about him before, that would have been a bad thing.
“You—” She shut her mouth, folded her arms more tightly around herself. “I drove you around all this week, thinking you were someone like me. I mean, it should have been obvious you’re not.”
Her eyes flicked around the room, refusing to land on his. “I think we should go back now. I need to get home soon, anyway.”
Ben’s gut clenched. “What’s the matter? Is something wrong?”
“It’s nothing. It’s fine.”
She wasn’t fine. Her expression had closed off completely, and she wouldn’t look at him.
“Tell me.” He took a step closer, panic threading through his veins. She wanted to get away from him. She was going to drop him off, go home, and he’d never see her again. And he still hadn’t told her how he felt.
“I helped you because I thought you were like me.” Her gaze flashed to his, her voice ragged. “Someone who was going through a hard time, and needed help. But you’re not anything like me. I’m a … a delivery driver. I dropped out of school. And you’re …” She trailed off. “I don’t really know you, do I?”
“You do know me. Better than anyone.” His voice came out low and sharp. He took another step closer. She’d backed into the door frame of his office, and he stepped into her personal space. He was too close, close enough to smell her hair, and he should really back away now, but his body wasn’t listening to the demands of his brain. His hand clenched into a fist at his side, aching to reach for her.
“I was just someone who needed help. I had all this.” He waved a hand, indicating his office. “I had all these accomplishments, and I was broken, and a mess, and everything was wrong inside me. And the only time I felt right in all the last year was the time I spent with you.” His voice cracked on the last word, and he swallowed.
She looked shell-shocked. He gazed into the storm of her eyes—confusion and sadness, a hint of longing—and the rest of whatever he was going to say disappeared from his mind.
“Ben.” She choked out the word and flung her arms around his waist in a fierce hug, burying her face in his chest. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things.”
His eyes slid shut at the feel of her pressed against him, his arms going around her tightly. He pressed his face into her hair, let himself inhale the coffee shop smell, and underneath, the scent of her citrus shampoo and her skin, powerful as any drug.
She turned her face up to him and without thinking, he put his mouth on hers, because he had to, because he couldn’t not do it. Her response was immediate and strong. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back, opening her mouth under his and threading her hands into his hair.
Ben’s brain shut off and he pressed his body against the length of hers, chasing more of her coffee and caramel taste. A flush rose up his chest, pulse thundering in his ears. He was lost, drunk on the best feeling he’d felt in forever.
Her knees buckled and he caught her waist, bracing her against the door frame. His hands slid up, under the hem of her shirt, palming the smooth skin of her lower back. She was too soft to be real, delicious under his fingers.
She gasped and pulled her mouth from his, and he dropped his head, gulping in deep breaths.
He hadn’t meant to kiss her, and there was a reason he wasn’t supposed to do it, but for the life of him, he couldn’t think of what it was right now. Nothing about that had been wrong or bad. Except how desperate he’d gotten, and how quickly he’d gotten there.
He’d pushed her against a wall and shoved his hands under her clothes, not something he’d normally do with a first kiss, and it had been so good, like he’d been starving for months and someone had set a meal in front of him.
But she’d stopped, and he’d respect that. He took a measured step backward. She leaned against the doorframe, staring up at him, her pupils dilated.
“I …” He cleared his throat. Tried again. “Can we sit down for a minute?”
She nodded and followed him to the couch. Once they were sitting side by side, he remembered the reason, the very good and sensible reason, why he shouldn’t have kissed her.
“You don’t date.” His voice was wrecked. The end of the sentence came out sounding like a question.
“I don’t. I haven’t, not once since I got divorced. I have a rule.” She touched her fingers to her mouth, as if remembering the kiss.
“I’m sure you have good reasons for the rule.”
“I did. I do.” She turned to face him, her expression conflicted. “But I liked kissing you.”
A shiver went through him. “I liked it too.”
A little smile turned the corner of her mouth up. “I could kind of tell. But we can’t. It’s not a good idea for me.”
“I’m not trying to change your mind. But I would like to know why.”
He’d expected her to pull away from him at that, but instead, she reached out and put a hand on top of his, where it rested between them on the couch.
“Are you sure you want to hear this?”
He might not want to hear it, if the story involved her getting hurt. But she deserved for someone to hear it. It was one thing he could do for her.
“I’m a very good listener.”