Chapter 12
Guilt was an annoying, creepy little beast.
Madison had been quite comfortable in her resentment toward Ben, until her conversation with Christopher. Now, she couldn’t help but think that maybe she had misjudged him. She didn’t like the idea of being manipulated or played, but she now had a better understanding of his behavior. And if she was honest with herself, her reaction was mostly fueled by the fact that she hadn’t been able to properly deal with what had happened in London. And that was on her, not on him.
The usual Black Friday shopping had been canceled this year, due to Everleigh being strongly advised to rest and not overdo it. Which meant Madison had had the entire day to think over what Christopher had shared with her.
She had suspected for a while that there was much more to Ben than his goofy persona. The night they had spent in her apartment had confirmed it, but Christopher’s words had really shed a new light on him.
By late afternoon, she couldn’t take it anymore. Quickly dressing in a comfy pair of jeans and thick boots, she headed to her favorite bakery. Normally, she would have made the pie herself, but she was running a little low on time.
A large apple pie in one hand, a latte in the other, she took the subway, stopping at 5th Avenue. She didn’t even know if he was home, although based on her memories, he had confirmed he had taken the whole weekend off. Worst case scenario, she’d leave the pie with the concierge - and if she was honest, that was her preferred outcome. She didn’t do well with direct confrontations, and she knew she probably owed him a few explanations, on top of the apology he deserved.
With one long exhale, she walked inside the upscale building, heading straight to the sleek desk where a man in a crisp, professional suit welcomed her with the usual polite smile.
“I’m here to see Ben Ackerman?” she asked hesitantly.
“May I have your name?”
“Goldstein. Madison.”
The man, Barney, she read on the tag on his jacket, checked his computer before nodding. “Ah, yes, Doctor Goldstein. You’re on the approved list.”
“I am?” she asked in surprise. The only time she had come to Ben’s place, she had been drunk and only half-conscious. Hardly a good enough reason to add someone to their visitors’ list. Quite the opposite, actually, seeing as she had puked in his bedroom.
Still a little bit dazzled, she waited patiently by the elevator, taking a sip of her latte and wondering if maybe she shouldn’t just turn around and give Barney her pie. He seemed like a nice guy, surely he must have done something in his life to deserve it? And Barney wouldn’t ask her the reason for her offering.
She recognized the hallway when she eventually stepped out of the elevator. It was as gorgeously luxurious as in her memories - maybe even more intimidating now that she wasn’t suffering from the hangover to end all hangovers.
Something she hadn’t noticed was the doorbell. She was used to human-sized apartments, so it took her a little off guard to see the small, old-fashioned button. Not that it was surprising. Ben’s loft was huge, a small knock would never alert him if he wasn’t in the foyer.
Tightening her hold on her precious pie, she rang the bell, shifting on her feet as she waited patiently. Counting in her head, she decided to give him thirty seconds before abandoning the pastry on the threshold like the mature, responsible woman that she was.
At twenty-eight, she heard a muffled voice and she cursed under her breath, her hands instantly getting damp.
“Madison?” Ben asked, his eyebrows lifting in obvious surprise when he opened the door. He was on the phone, and the voice she could hear was distinctively feminine. She felt like a pinch in her heart at the realization that maybe he was making plans with said-woman. It was Friday, after all.
“Hi,” Madison said with a nervous smile. “I brought some pie.”
He blinked, his eyes lowering to the package in her hands. “Oh.”
“Yes.”
“Just… OK. One second,” he eventually said, lifting a finger. “Florence? Can I call you back?”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you,” Madison said, wincing as he let her in.
“It’s a co-worker, nothing that can’t wait a few hours.”
She shoved the pie in his hands. “It’s the pie of peace.”
“The… pie of peace? Does it come with a Nobel or something?”
“You wish.”
He helped her out of her coat and, once again, she was surprised by his formal manners. Although, now that she knew a little more about his upbringing, it made a lot more sense.
“Not that I don’t like free pie, but…” he started as they walked into the kitchen.
She sat down at the counter, turning her half-empty cup in her hands. “I owe you an apology.”
He frowned, glancing at her before leaning against the counter, his elbows resting on the dark mahogany wood. “For what?”
“I reacted badly to… everything. I still think you were a little manipulative, but I can see you did it with good reasons at heart.”
He gave her a small, embarrassed smile. “I should have been honest with you. You were right to get mad. I just… I didn’t know how to talk to you about-”
“What do you know exactly?” she asked in a breath, keeping her eyes on his watch. It was an elegant watch, with a black leather band, and a very simple, classic face.
“When I tried to help you out of your coat, that night I mean, not just now, you… I don’t know, but your reaction was off. I shrugged it off as you being drunk even though… you startled. Usually being hammered means you’re slow to react, so it seemed weird to me, but then again… maybe you were a fidgety drunk?”
“What made you reconsider?”
“You talked. About a certain Henry. Actually, no. You talked as if I were Henry. I… Fuck, Madison, I don’t want to remind you of bad things, but it seemed obvious he was doing something you didn’t want him to do.”
“He was a co-worker in London.”
“I gathered that.”
With a shaky hand, she took another sip of her drink.
“Madison, you don’t have to tell me anything, you know that, right? But I think, and I mean this as someone who cares about you, I do believe that it’s still impacting you, in a bad way. So maybe you should talk to someone. I’m here to listen. I can also look up therapists or support groups or… whatever it is you might need. I won’t tell anyone.”
“I just feel so stupid, Ben,” she eventually admitted. She looked up, meeting his eyes. His gaze was soft, full of concern and caution as well. It was then that she fully admitted to herself why she had reacted so deeply to what she had perceived as manipulation.
She didn’t want him to know. And finding out that he had been aware of everything from the beginning made that small, innocent, burgeoning friendship between them fake, while she had started to see it as… slightly more than that. He hadn’t been kind, and funny, and considerate because he liked spending time with her. He had done it because he had thought she needed help. It erased what she had thought was organic, genuine affection growing between them. It was putting them back to where they had been before their sessions at the gym. Acquaintances, rather than friends.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Ben eventually said gently.
“No. You got me wrong.” She groaned, rubbing her forehead. “Nothing really big happened, OK? Just… It freaked me out because we were in his office, and I felt trapped and… but he got interrupted before anything else happened.”
“Why don’t you start from the beginning?”
She let out a sigh, understanding she probably wasn’t making a lot of sense. “So, Henry is one of the professors there. He’s around thirty, good-looking, I guess. Charming. English accent. We flirted a little. It was harmless, joking more than flirting, like ‘Oh, looking nice today, Madison,’ and ‘Not so bad yourself, Henry, new haircut?’ Stupid things like that. There was never any innuendo or hint at going out on a date or whatever, we just liked to have lunches together and talk. I wasn’t enamored, I wasn’t interested in dating him - or anyone else for that matter. There were just so many things to do and see, dating was far, far away from my mind.”
“OK…”
“I thought it was the same for him, you know? That he just liked my company, intellectually, and that our relationship was turning into a nice, comfortable friendship with all the teasing and bantering that can naturally happen. You know, like you do all the time?”
Ben grinned with a small shake of his head. “I do act that way a lot, I’ve been told.”
“It’s part of your charm, I guess.”
“In all modesty, I don’t disagree.”
“I guess he saw it differently. I needed his help on a report I was working on. I asked him if I could stop by his office. He told me he was busy all day but should be available early evening. I went there and… I don’t know. He offered me a drink, which seemed weird but then again, it’s not that crazy, it was technically after work. I said yes, but it was a strong liquor, and I hate that so I barely sipped on it. He sat down on the couch with the file I had brought, and I followed. Again, I should have realized this was not normal but… after work, he wanted to relax, and he was already helping me.”
“It’s not your fault, Madison.”
“He jumped me. I mean… there is no other way I can explain it,” she blurted out, remembering that trapped feeling, the freezing confusion at the sudden movement. “It’s just so blurry. I froze, and I don’t know how long it took me to push back, honestly. I just…. You just don’t expect that kind of thing, you know? It almost doesn’t seem real, like it’s not really happening to you.”
She didn’t even notice she was crying until Ben handed her a box of tissues.
“No one can blame you for being in shock,” he said gently as she blew her nose. “Whatever happened afterward… just the way he acted is obvious he wasn’t seeking your consent.”
Shaking her head, she rolled the tissue in a small ball. She’d worry about germs later. “You don’t understand. That’s all that happened.”
There was a flash of confusion on his face, but he remained silent.
“He got interrupted. The whole thing maybe lasted thirty seconds at most. He did tear off a button from my blouse, but he didn’t have the time to do anything more than just kiss me against my will, and… grope me. Someone knocked on the door, and it slapped me back to reality. It distracted him just for a second, I jumped to my feet and rushed out. It was my boss, Doctor Guggenheim. She saw me obviously a little disheveled and… her first reaction was disapproval, assuming right away that I had been fraternizing with a colleague. I told her he had assaulted me but… I was so confused… I’m not even sure which words I used, to be honest. He, on the other hand, was all calm and rational.”
Ben sucked in a breath. “I bet he was.”
“They all made sure it stayed within the university. He was asked to apologize for his familiar manners, and it got swept under the rug. It was suggested that maybe putting distance between us would be a good idea, and I got the message loud and clear. To be fair, I didn’t really want to stay any longer. I did try to warn girls around me, but either they think he is the sweetest guy on campus, or they already had doubts. I was strongly advised to not try to slander an esteemed and respected member of the faculty.”
“This is such bullshit. He’s surrounded by students, people who see him as an authority figure. It’s a disaster waiting to happen.”
“It was decided it was an isolated accident due to our cultural differences. And they said nothing really dramatic had happened anyway. And they’re right. In the end, I just got kissed and… a little groped but that’s all.”
“Wow, Madison, I wouldn’t say-”
“And it’s been months, and I’m still stuck on it, Ben. On such… so many things happen to women, every day, so much worse than that and… and just that already made me suspicious of every man around me. It makes me nervous when I’m alone in a room at work, wondering who could come up. I don’t even dare to listen to music when I work anymore because then anyone could sneak up on me. And… it was just thirty seconds. But I can’t get it out of my mind. That’s why I feel stupid. I know, I rationally know I did nothing wrong. I also rationally know nothing dreadful really happened. So why can’t I wrap my head around it? Why am I still stuck on this?” She took a deep breath, slowly exhaling. “I think that’s part of the reason why I got so angry when I figured out you knew. I should have gotten over it by now, I hadn’t, and you realized that. I’m sorry I lashed out at you, I know now that you only wanted to help.”
“Someone betrayed your trust and took advantage of a moment when you were vulnerable. They put their hands on you against your will. Madison, I’m sorry no one told you already but… it’s normal that you haven’t gotten over it yet. It’s OK. There is no recipe to get over an assault, no twelve step programs, no schedule.”
She winced when he said the word “assault,” even if she had used it herself. Somehow, it made a difference to have him say it out loud. It made it more real. It made her a victim in his eyes.
“The classes helped, you know. So thank you for setting up that little scheme, I guess?”
He gave her a one-sided grin. “Scheme is such a big word. I prefer to say I am a little mischievous.”
“Of course you do.”
Straightening up, he drummed on the counter, rubbing on a small spot that had probably been left by some red wine, judging by the darker color on the wood. He almost seemed uncomfortable all of a sudden, which wasn’t a look she was used to seeing on him.
“I owe you an apology, too,” he eventually said. “I should have been much more upfront with you. I didn’t want to freak you out or force you to open up, but I know that honesty would have been better.”
“At the end of the day, you tried to help. And you succeeded. I’m not sure I would have known what to do if I had been in your situation, to be fair.”
“Somehow, I doubt you would have gone with fake-dating.”
She laughed, passing her hands over her cheeks one last time. “Yeah, I don’t have your imagination.”
He gave her a wink, lifting his hand to her face. She froze for a second, not out of discomfort, but caught off guard by the gesture.
He was focused on her glasses, though. Gently, he took them off then turned to the sink. “Your glasses are a mess,” he explained before grabbing some window cleaning spray.
“Yeah, tears will do that to them.” She watched as he carefully cleaned them, drying them with a paper towel before handing them back. “Something people with good eyesight will never understand.”
“Ah. As someone with perfect vision, I formally apologize for our lack of empathy.”
“Apology accepted.” She smiled, putting the glasses back on.
“Before we close this topic… I really think you should talk to someone. A therapist, or a support group? Something to help you talk it all out with people who would probably be better to give advice than… well, than me, a dude who’s never really been confronted with that.”
Instinctively, she was about to say no and deny the need to go to such lengths for what she still firmly saw as a small incident. But if one thing had been made clear with their conversation, it was that she wasn’t over it, and maybe it was time to face exactly why. “You’re right. I will,” she said after a few seconds.
“Good. Now that all of this is out of the way…” He gave her his trademark charming grin, one she hadn’t seen in a while and, if she was totally honest, one she had kinda missed. She liked knowing their relationship was back to playful and that he didn’t see her any differently.
“Yes?”
“What kind of pie did you bring exactly?”
“Really?”
“I take my pie seriously.”
“It’s just apple.”
“Great choice. One of my favorites.” He checked his watch, then glanced at her. “It’s almost dinner time. Want to be my guest?”
“I don’t want to intrude.”
“Oh, yes. You’re intruding on some very personal time between me and that amazing bottle of red wine you can see by the sink.”
“I’m so sorry. If it makes you feel better, I think you two make a very cute couple. Her sticker really makes your eyes pop.”
“Aww, thank you. I do like to coordinate. Anyway, I’ve got chicken, vegetables, and potatoes, does that sound good to you?”
“You mean you’re gonna cook?”
“Well… yes.”
“I thought you only did breakfast?”
“I can also fix a few simple dishes, Madison.” He rolled his eyes. “I follow Tasty on Facebook, I picked up a few tricks. Peel, wash, olive oil and seasoning then you throw the thing in the oven and voilà, chef Ben à votre service, Mademoiselle.”
“Aaaand he speaks French,” she let out in a laugh. “You’re full of surprises today, aren’t you?”
“I speak a little bit of French,” he corrected. “Forgot most of it, except the parts that make the ladies swoon, obviously.”
“Well, duh.”
He grabbed some vegetables from the fridge, then washed his hands thoroughly. “I hope you like zucchini?”
She picked up the big, turgescent vegetable, eyeing it appreciatively. “Is that one of your pick-up lines? Because that sounds a little arrogant.”
He chuckled. “Walked right into that one, I guess.”
“Yup. But no worry, I’m not a picky eater,” she said as she took his place at the sink. “What can I do?”
“You’re supposed to be my guest.”
“Sitting and staring at you is rather boring.”
“OK, first, that’s mean. I thought I was acing the comfy-yet-elegant look. And second, would it be more entertaining if I took off my shirt?”
She grinned, secretly agreeing that he did look very nice in his pair of obviously well-worn jeans and green Henley. “Well, that depends. Hard to judge beforehand.”
“I feel so objectified right now.”
“Oh, please, you love it.”
“When it’s done by a pretty girl like you? Yeah, I do.”
She bit her lower lip at that. It was probably just a line, and a silly one at that, but she liked hearing it nonetheless. Especially since she knew she must look like a mess, with red cheeks, probably puffy eyes, and no make-up to limit the damages her crying had done.
“Peel these,” he said, interrupting her train of thought and handing her a few carrots. “The male of the house will handle the chopping.”
“It’s carrots, not wood, you… Upper East End lumberjack.”
He paused, quickly glancing at his reflection in the microwave’s mirrored front glass. “I knew the manly scruff worked on me.”
“Yup. Your one-millimeter scruff really makes you look like you live in a small cabin in the middle of the White Mountains. Only thing missing is the plaid shirt.”
“Do you think Hugo Boss sells some?”
She winced apologetically. “I don’t think it’s their style.”
“Damn.”
“Yeah, sorry, but I think you’ll have to stick with the Manhattan golden boy look.”
“I do ace that one.”
“How’s the ego?”
“In pristine shape, as usual.”
She paused in her peeling long enough to elbow him while he was washing the zucchini.
“Ouch!”
“Oh, please. You spent weeks getting kneed in the balls every Saturday.”
“God, that was painful. That cup thingy doesn’t absorb everything, you know. There is still trauma happening in an area that should never know trauma.”
She giggled at his grumpy tone. “And to think I got mad at you for doing it on top of everything.”
“Don’t remind me. Also, is it me or are you the slowest peeler in the universe?”
She glanced down at the carrot she was working on - still the first one, which kinda proved his point. “I’m doing my best, OK? Your thingy is just not practical.”
“Excuse you. My thingy is everything, especially practical. It’s the perfect size to hold in my hand. It’s smooth, almost silky at the handle, with a precise, bigger top for perfect aim and accuracy. See how large it gets? Maximum efficiency right there aaaand... it’s dishwasher safe.”
She looked up at him, blinking.
He shrugged innocently. “I got the flu last year and was stuck in bed. I watched the shopping network all day and saw that thing I don’t know how many times. I bought a few.”
“You buy stuff from the shopping network?”
“Occasionally. I now find it quite relaxing and there are great bargains, OK? So no judgment.”
“I wouldn’t dare.”
She handed him the first carrot, finally done with it. He had just started cutting it when she added smoothly, “That being said, are you sure there wasn’t an issue with the sound when they were presenting your amazing peeler? Like a delay or something?”
“No… why?”
“That description perfectly fits my vibrator,” she said innocently.
“Fuck!” He jumped back, holding his hand.
“What? Oh no, did you-”
Ben walked to the sink, holding his left forefinger under the tap. Blood was gushing out of what was obviously a cut and she cursed, looking around her for the paper towels.
“Here,” she said, handing him a couple. “Is it deep? Do you think you’ll need stitches?”
“Damn.” He frowned, leaning in to get a closer look. “No. I don’t think so. Do you mind going to my bathroom, there’s a small emergency kit under the sink?”
“Got it.” She rushed down the hallway, bursting into his bedroom. The curtains were open, his bed perfectly made, but she didn’t linger, heading straight to the bathroom.
It was as clean and tidy as she remembered and the emergency plastic box was right where he had said. She was back in the kitchen in less than thirty seconds.
Ben was leaning against the sink, paper towels bundled underneath his finger. “It’s not bleeding too much, a simple Band-Aid should do.”
Opening the box, Madison quickly gathered the necessities. She sprayed some disinfectant, relieved to see that indeed the bleeding seemed lighter now. It didn’t appear to be a deep cut .
“You’re lucky I can handle blood,” she said while she applied the Band-Aid. “And I’m sorry if I distracted you.”
“Ha. You mean by talking about your sex toy while I’m chopping a freaking carrot? Nah. What man would be, really?” he snorted.
“Oh, come on. Precise, bigger top for perfect aim and accuracy? Dishwasher safe? Fits in my hand perfectly??”
“Maybe you shouldn’t say those kind of things while playing nurse with me.”
“Is it one of your fantasies?”
“Am I a straight man?”
“Good point.” She checked one last time that everything was covered, then closed the emergency box. “All done.”
“Thank you, Nurse Madison.”
“You were a very brave patient.”
She patted his hand gently, enjoying the familiar warmth. He had very nice hands, strong, but gentle. Clean, shortly cut nails.
“You got rid of the green nail polish?” he asked her, holding her hand back when she was about to move it away.
“Yes. My nails were growing out too much.” She had managed to keep the professional, sleek, perfect manicure for weeks but eventually, she had had to go back to get rid of the product that had made her nails a little longer and a whole lot stronger. She had considered getting them done again, but the price had made her reconsider. She might splurge again for the holidays next month, but it wouldn’t be a regular thing.
“I liked it. Green looks good on you.”
That shouldn’t have made her blush, but it did.
Mostly because she knew green was his favorite color. She also knew that it might have been the reason why she had picked it, even if unconsciously. There was no denying that she had grown more attracted to him in the past few months. He had always been handsome and charming, but the more time they had spent together, the more attractive he had become, for some reason.
At first, she had thought he didn’t see her the same way. She had been positive, actually. She definitely wasn’t his type, too plain, not sophisticated enough.
But the way he looked at her sometimes made her reconsider things. When he had stopped at her place a few weeks ago, she had felt the connection grow. At least, she thought so.
The way he was looking at her now seemed to reinforce her impressions.
Maybe the attraction was mutual.
And he was still holding her hand.
Surely, there had to be a rule that stated that when a guy held your hand for more than five seconds, it was for a purpose.
“Damn it,” he eventually hissed under his breath, his fingers tightening around hers. His eyes drifted to her lips and lingered there.
The light was shifting in his apartment, strangely fitting the new mood. The low, golden sunlight of November was beaming warmly. It was soothing, comfortable and oddly intimate. It washed over her, washed over the quietness of the room, washed over those grey eyes of his and the next thing she knew, she was reaching on her toes.