15. Chapter 15 #2
It was different when that was only a thought in my head. Hearing Milo say it pisses me off. “How is it for the best?”
He glances at me. “If he starts seeing her, it’ll help cover up your lies.”
“Some of those lies are yours, too.”
He breathes deeply out his nose. “Look, you might be legally married, but you aren’t in a relationship with him. He doesn’t owe you shit.”
The alcohol in my stomach is fuel for the sudden flash of spite because maybe I want to be in a relationship with Benji. “So our open marriage is only open for you—is that it? I’m not allowed to see him?”
He gives me a stunned look. “We agreed we wouldn’t risk seeing other people until after Diana goes to Florida.”
“What about Lou?” I ask, crossing my arms and staring sullenly out into the night as he turns down our driveway.
“We haven’t hooked up in a while, and you know that.” Milo hesitates. “You’re jealous that they’re getting along, so you’re picking a fight with me—is that what this is?”
“No.” Probably.
Milo parks the truck and turns toward me. “Gina. You married a twenty-five-year-old who’s probably used to getting laid every night. You had to know what would happen.”
Pain, anger—I don’t know which I’m feeling more of as I shove open my door and fall out of the truck. I want to swear at Milo. Or scream into the dark. Instead, I slam the door, stomp through the meadow, up my steps, and into my cabin. I slam that door, too.
Because I’m already hurting and want to press harder on the wound, I go into the bedroom, crouch down beside the bed, and reach for my trinket box.
The lid is off, and the contents are spilled on the floor. I sweep them out into the light.
The rings are gone. They’d been tied together with a hair tie, and now they’re gone .
“Gina,” Milo says, standing in the doorway. There’s a pleading tone in his voice. A tentative apology, maybe, or at least the desire not to fight.
“Did you take my rings?” I ask, my heart thumping wildly.
His expression hardens and closes off. “I didn’t touch them,” he says as he walks away.
“No, Milo, wait.” My stomach sinks. I’ve never hurt him like this. Shit. “I didn’t mean—” The cabin door swings shut before I’m out of the bedroom.
Milo didn’t know those rings were there, but he wouldn’t have taken them even if he did. He’s never taken anything of mine, and that’s no longer who he is.
I grab a bag of marshmallows as a peace offering and head outside. Milo’s not there. He must have gone for a walk in the dark. So I start the fire, douse myself in bug spray, and plop onto one of the log benches to sulk.
The RV is dark. Briar must be asleep. I don’t know her well enough to drag her out to listen to my problems. Lou is out of town. Her ex Hayden cleaned out her savings and left town. I don’t want to add to her burdens.
I could call my mom. I’ve never gone to her for help or advice before. But it’ll only depress me more if she doesn’t answer.
I need something to distract me from picturing Autumn and Benji in the backseat of her car, but there’s nothing. Every minute that ticks by is absolute agony, and my mother’s voice keeps ringing in my head— is it worth it?
It has to be, but why does a crush hurt this much? I barely know him, and yeah, sure, I think I could fall in love with him, but it’s been five days—if I don’t count the night in Vegas that I can’t remember. It can’t be love. It just…can’t.
There’s no hope, but I watch the dark road anyway, willing him to come home now and terrified he won’t return until morning.
I’ve convinced myself he’s not coming back tonight when a small light breaks through the foliage, and the unmistakable sound of someone jogging up the driveway comes closer.
He heads toward the fire—toward me—and I clasp my hands between my knees and force myself to stay put. I have no right to act like a jealous ass when Benji thinks I’m with Milo. And because I asked for a divorce.
Benji steps into the light of the fire, his phone screen illuminating his face as he turns the flashlight off.
“Walking from the highway is scarier in the dark,” he says, pocketing his phone. He picks up the bug spray, generously coating himself. “Thought I was lost when the cabin wasn’t as close as I remembered.”
He sounds cheerful, which makes me miserable. I can’t keep Milo’s words out of my head— you married a twenty-five-year-old who’s probably used to getting laid every night.
“How’d it go?” I ask, locking my eyes on the fire in front of me.
Benji drops onto the bench next to me. “We finished our drinks, and Autumn went home. I had a drink with Clay, and he drove me here. I asked him to drop me off at the highway. I needed some time to think.”
Nothing happened with Autumn. The relief is like a bucket of water over my head on a stinking hot day. I close my eyes and let out the breath I feel like I’ve been holding since I left the bar over an hour ago.
“I couldn’t think of an excuse to say no when she asked me out.” Benji turns to sit sideways, pressing his shin against my thigh. He nudges me with his shoe. “It sucked watching you with him tonight,” he says. “I almost thought I was wrong about the two of you.”
I finally turn to look at him. The fire's orange light flickers in his eyes, and he looks as miserable as me.
“I want you to know I haven’t been with anyone since we married.” He pauses. “I did dance for other people on stage. There was some touching, but only what was necessary for the show. Is that okay?”
“Yeah, of course.” I’m not mad at him for doing his job. I don’t care if it involves touching. That’s so different from my feelings about seeing him with Autumn tonight.
But he hasn’t been with anyone since we married? That was nearly four months ago.
Benji hesitates. “I’m not holding it against you that you’ve been with Milo.”
“I haven’t—” I stop myself before I say slept with Milo and briefly close my eyes. Shit. I can’t tell Benji that Milo and I are fake without talking to Milo first.
There’s a long silence while I feel his eyes on me.
“You haven’t?” He says it softly, not sounding surprised but more like…hopeful.
I stare at the fire and decide the best course of action is to ignore that question.
“In Vegas…were you with him then? You weren’t wearing a ring.”
I blow out a breath. “It’s complicated.”
“Complicated how?”
I bend down and pick up the bag of marshmallows I’d forgotten about. My hands need to move. “I don’t remember what happened that night, but I wasn’t…I mean…Milo and I weren’t exactly…if we kissed or—”
“Oh, we kissed.”
I risk a glance at him, and he’s grinning. “Right,” I say, and hopefully, the light of the fire masks my blush. We got married. I’ve seen the photo of us kissing on his phone.
Wish I could remember it since kissing him is all I think about.
He leans forward, his voice soft as he plucks the bag of marshmallows from my hands. “I liked kissing you.” But then he gets to his feet. “Do you have graham crackers and chocolate? Tonight sucked, but s’mores would make it better.”
I do. Benji goes into the cabin to grab them. He returns with my water bottle. “Better hydrate,” he says as he hands it to me.
I’m about to protest that I didn’t drink that much at the bar, but he sits next to me on the log again, close enough I can feel the warmth of his body. So I drink the water and hand him a stick. We skewer our marshmallows in silence.
Benji holds his marshmallow to the side of the fire, carefully turning it, but I stick mine straight in the flames.
He gasps as I lift my fiery marshmallow and bring it close enough to blow it out. “I might give you that divorce after all,” he says, his attention drifting back to the marshmallow he’s perfectly toasting as I slide my burnt one onto a chocolate-topped graham cracker.
“You eat cold PopTarts,” I protest.
“I’m not the one eating sugary charcoal.”
“You’re not eating anything because you’re still toasting yours, and odds are it’ll catch fire anyway.”
Benji grumbles, but I'm eating my second by the time he’s finished his first s’mores. He watches me lick the gooey marshmallow off my fingers, which might feel sexy if I didn’t taste like bug spray.
He slides another marshmallow onto his stick, and I wait until he lowers it in the fire to ask, “What was our first kiss like?”
His marshmallow dips perilously close to the flames as he fumbles the stick. “You want to know?”
“Yeah.”
A slow smile spreads across his face, but he keeps his eyes on the marshmallow as he slowly rotates it.
“We were at the chapel, and the guy said, ‘You may now kiss the bride.’ We looked at each other like we’d just realized our first kiss would be in front of the group of tourists we’d roped into being our witnesses.
” He glances at me. “You were looking at me with those beautiful, wide green eyes. I remember you gave this nervous giggle.”
My face heats, imagining all those eyes on us.
Benji lifts the marshmallow and slides it onto a chocolate-topped graham cracker.
I watch, waiting, as he burns the stick clean and sets it on the ground, then tops his s’more with another graham cracker.
He turns to sit facing me but straddles the log this time.
The way he looks at me makes my heart pick up speed.
“I didn’t want to kiss you in front of anyone,” Benji says.
Anticipation thrums, and I want to know everything. “You didn’t?”
He takes a bite of his s’more and shakes his head while chewing. “I wanted your attention on me. So I pulled you real close.” He takes another bite, eyes twinkling. He’s teasing me, revealing what happened in slowly peeled layers.
Whatever my face is doing makes him smile boyishly. This smile might be my favorite.
He swallows and leans closer, warm shadows from the fire flickering over him. “I cupped your face. Tangled my fingers in your curls. Tipped your face up so all you could see was me.”
The boyish look fades into something heated.
I swallow. “Show me.”