Chapter 29 #3
I grab his sleeve, clutching and pulling on the fabric to slow him down. "And you didn't even look at me when you said we were over."
He just snorts bitterly.
"I reached out to you! I wanted to talk before I came!" I say.
He gives me that disdainful nod that makes my chest burn. "You seriously thought I'd be okay with it? After everything? That you could walk in with him and I'd still be waiting?"
"But you didn't even let me explain! Maybe try picking up your phone if you want me to plan a future with you!"
He stops, looks me dead in the eyes. "And you should've come back from Seattle like you said you would. If you had, we wouldn't be here."
The heat climbs up my throat, almost suffocating me and my voice rises, "Wow! You're unbelievable, you know that?!"
He snorts a laugh—harsh, humorless. "I do know that. You hate me. Right? Heard it all," he says and starts walking faster.
"I do! I do hate you so much! I'm done with you!"
"Good. 'Cause I don't give a damn anymore." He throws the suit over his shoulder and yanks the door open so hard it rattles.
I catch up just in time, half breathless, heart in my throat, as we both rush into Mara's dressing room, our argument still hanging in the air like thick smoke.
Luckily, Mara is too distracted with her own feelings to notice.
She explodes the second she spots him. "Grazie a Dio! I thought you were passed out somewhere, idiota!"
"Just needed a second to breathe," Ben says flatly.
"What happened with your shirt?" She points, and before he says anything, she's fussing, fixing him.
When her fingers undo one too many buttons, I turn away.
Pathetic, really. That chest has been claimed by my hands more times than I can count, and just about a minute ago, I begged him to ravage me, but here and after everything, it feels indecent.
Mara clocks it and her eyes narrow. "What's going on, guys?"
"Nothing," I say too fast. "I was just... looking for him. Found him." I force a weird smile.
Mara's brows stay knotted as she glances at him and then at me, but she lets it go with a high-pitched hmm and smiles. "Are you having fun, babe? You look gorgeous in that yellow. I knew it."
Ben turns back to me for a beat, his eyes running over me like an old reflex. Then he drags a hand over his jaw and walks toward the window.
When I notice Mara waiting for an answer, I nod a little too hard. "Oh yeah. So much. You're a stunner, by the way."
Mara beams, spinning so her chiffon skirt flares like champagne fizz. She points proudly to her white sneakers with silver bows. "Had to change so I can dance."
She turns to Ben but speaks to me. "Would you mind giving me a minute with my brother?"
There's no mistaking the shift in tone—sweet but non-negotiable, so I nod and walk out.
Well, half-out because the moment the door clicks behind me, my traitor of a body stays rooted there.
I dart my eyes around, making sure no one can see me, even though it feels like everyone's watching anyway.
The little crucifix on the far wall is, and you know what, I don't even care if it judges me or not anymore.
"Tell me what happened," Mara says to Ben, her voice softening. "You look like hell. Why are you drinking all night like you're trying to become a vegetable?"
"My little sister's getting married. I'm Italian. What do you want me to do?" he mutters.
Mara snorts. "Yeah, right. It has nothing to do with me."
A pause before his voice returns, warmed up. "It does. I'm happy for you."
"You think I'm stupid?" she jumps in, voice that maternal sharpness now. "I've seen the way you and Emma look at each other tonight. That's not friendly or flirtatious. Something happened between you two. Something very serious."
Ben blows a long breath. "Don't ask me. You wouldn't be very proud of me if you knew—"
Mara lets out a long breath, too. "I think I know."
What? What does she mean?
A beat.
My ear presses harder against the wood, trying to grab every word that comes next.
"You know what?" Ben asks tentatively.
Mara sighs again, louder this time. "You think I didn't play my part? I staged that coffee so you guys could talk. Told her you for sure weren't coming so she wouldn't rabbit. I asked her to join us to Nevada and told you right away to get her a ticket. Because I knew you still cared for her."
Ben huffs, probably equally stunned as I am.
"You went three years, praying she'd show up," she adds.
"I didn't," he shoots defensively.
I can practically hear Mara's look on him. "Beniamino? When you heard she was coming, you built her a damn palace in the desert with fairy lights so she'd have somewhere to sleep. Stop lying to me for once, dai."
My heart seizes. So that's why he was dodging my questions. He didn't go for the fun or the art. He went because I used to talk about it constantly, and he thought I might actually show up, and needed to be there if I did.
"Okay. Fine. All of it's true," he says irritably. "Now what?"
Mara sighs. "You're so dramatic. It's fine."
What? Did Mara just say fine?
"What?" Ben snaps too. "Did you just say fine?"
Mara groans. "You two, seriously. No. Fine, meaning not fine.
What you're doing? It's real bad. Like get-on-your-knees-and-pray bad.
" She lets it sit heavy, then pulls back a notch.
"But there are evil people, and then there are good people who screw up big.
You two are the second one. Capisce? So go and fix it. "
Ben exhales a long, pained breath. "I don't know how, Mara."
"You do. You fix people for living—"
"Yeah, but this isn't a broken bone, and it's not just up to me. I poured my heart out to her like an idiot, did everything to make up for the past. Every time I push a little, she backs away, and I can't keep fighting when she's scared of me. I don't think she loves me the way I love her."
I clamp my hand over my mouth, feeling my knees wanting to slump against the wall.
"She loves you," Mara fires back.
"She can't even say it."
"She doesn't have to. You're blind if you don't see it."
"She left me. Married Richard. She's here with him."
"Stop blaming her. You weren't exactly a saint," Mara fires up. "You pushed her away too, remember? I told you many times that at some point you guys will snap. You both screwed it up. Congratulations."
Ben scoffs. "Weren't you the one who told me to stop offering my organs to every woman I date?"
"Yeah, but this isn't every woman," Mara counters. "This is Emma. She's your endgame. Always was."
A pause.
His voice finally softens: "I wanted to divorce Lisa and be with her, but now... I don't even know. I think I'm done."
"B, you're far from done," Mara says softly. "You almost don't talk to me now, but I know you. You'd rather die than not to be with her."
"True, but then I'll rather die. I hate being played for a tool."
Mara tuts. "Listen. You guys have to talk. Tell her everything. And I mean everything. She has to know."
"No." Ben's voice goes deeper, more resolute. "Whatever we talk about stays between us. So keep it to yourself, as you promised."
"Seriously? You'll drive me insane one day!" Mara nearly shouts, dramatically.
When he doesn't say anything, she sighs loudly.
"Fine. Listen, you're a good man. I'll say it till I'm blue in the face, I'll say it to God's face if I have to.
You're a good man and the best brother anyone could ask for.
Shit—" Her voice falters before she starts panicking.
"Get me a tissue! Now! This makeup was three hundred bucks and I'm not ruining it because you're an idiot! "
Ben huffs a laugh. I hear shuffle, tissues crumpling, that muffled sniffle Mara tries to hide but can't.
"Forget about me, I can't believe you're Mrs. Dalton now. Somebody else's headache," he says.
"Hey!" Mara snaps, but the laugh is threaded through it.
"I'm kidding," he says with a smile in his voice. "You'll always be my favorite pain in the ass."
Mara laughs. "You have my full support. As long as you're happy? I'm in your corner. Always."
"Thanks, bambina. Lo sai che ti voglio bene, no?"
"Yeah," she says.
Then there are footsteps, and Mara's chiffon dress rustling.
I peel myself away, don't even care about clicking against the wooden floor because my footsteps aren't louder than my heartbeat. Everything I thought I knew about this situation just shifted.
I don't know what it means yet, but one thing is crystal: I can't let them catch me eavesdropping on the most important conversation of my life.
The bathroom becomes my hiding place as I prick my ear.
Down the hall, Mara's bossy voice bells: "Now come dance with me. They'll play my song 'Mara on the Dance Floor.'"
Ben huffs. "You mean 'Murder.'"
She clicks her mouth. "Same thing."