Chapter Eleven

Harper

Against my better judgement, I’m blown, polished, waxed, and made up to the nines. Norah and I had a girls’ day. Ben got home last night, but he showered and went straight back to work. He said he had a lot of briefs and video conferences to attend. Because people from all over the world sit in on these video calls sometimes they land in the middle of the night and quite frankly, international leaders don’t care how tired he is.

Norah was more than gracious when I mentioned bringing Ben with me to the party tonight. It was her idea to go shopping and have a day filled with pampering in preparation. She’s trying to make me feel better and it would be a lie if I didn’t feel equal parts guilt as I do gratitude.

True friendships have been few and far between for me. Those people I met at Harvard are all busy with their own families and lives. I’ve been up to my eyeballs in my own studies and career. Studying a multitude of languages takes its toll on one’s ability to function in social settings. It’s almost as if the part of my brain that’s supposed to form real friendships with new people is used for understanding Swahili, Mandarin, and Arabic.

We’re sipping cold-brew coffee browsing dresses in a boutique in the Gaslamp district when her cell rings. I can’t help the jealous rage when she smiles and says his name into the receiver of the phone. “Yes, she’s going to be ready and beautiful for you by six. You’re not going to be late, are you?” Norah’s smile fades. “Oh, okay.”

I do my best to search the racks, running my hands over the fabrics. The store clerk tells me she has a dress she just got in and hasn’t had a chance to put out on the racks yet. It’s the perfect excuse to wander from Norah’s side and disappear on the other side of the store. By any person’s standards, this would be weird. She’s shopping for my date with her boyfriend. Somehow, it’s not. It is two friends who share a best friend.

I see what Ben likes about Norah and know why he’s drawn to her.

The emerald green dress she presents is gorgeous. “I need to try that on right now,” I say, running my fingers along the hem.

“Of course. The color will look beautiful with your hair color.” She leads the way to the back where large billowing curtains are hiding small dressing rooms. I enter with one other dress and the green one I know I’ll probably buy.

The mark on my cheek is almost gone, and is hidden completely by makeup the heavy handed artist brushed on my face an hour before. Marcus hasn’t tried to contact me since his brother arrived in San Diego from the East Coast. He left the apartment so I could clear out the rest of my things. Most of which reside in a storage unit on 5th street. My parents can never know the true extent of the demise of my relationship. I did have to do a little creative concocting to produce a story believable enough. It was a lot of time spent curating a relationship to toss away all willy-nilly. Or, so my father said. Leaving Marcus was easy. Living without the security blanket he provided is more difficult than I’d ever imagined. If I was with him, then I didn’t have to worry about men or dating, or my true feelings. Marcus simplified an area of my life that needed an easy fix. I’d feel guilty for the realization if my cheek didn’t still throb in the shower. When I told my mother, she smiled to herself, like she was in on some secret and told me it would get easier in time.

The green dress is stunning. I don’t come out of the dressing room to show Norah even though I know she’s there, chatting on the phone. I think it’s one of the other veterinarians now because she’s asking about an animal and giving directions on care. My cell chimes with a text.

Ben: I’m home. Are you coming home soon?

Home. My stomach rolls in anticipation. The word never sounded so good. I tap back. I’m naked right now, but I’ll be on my way back soon.

Ben: Uniform or suit? He ignores my cheeky joke.

Pressing my lips together, I decide on the option that will draw the least amount of attention. Suit.

Ben: Are you still naked? There it is.

Peeking out from the curtain, I spy Norah wrapped up in her conversation, talking with one hand moving furiously. It’s harmless banter. Ben and I have always joked like this. Why does it feel different? Because my security blanket is gone. No. But I will be later on tonight.

Ben: I’ll be there. When?

I’ll have to shower. Duh. You’re such a perv, Benny. I laugh and toss my phone in my purse. I purchase the dress and a pair of earrings that reminds me of pearls except they’re silver and shiny, like alien spaceships about to infiltrate my brain by way of my ear canal.

I wait for Norah to buy a top after she ends her call and we meet outside. “Thanks for coming with me today,” she says, sighing as she adjusts her huge purse from one shoulder to the other. “I wanted to get to know you better. You seem so familiar to me, but it must be because you and Ben are so close.”

“Or we were meant to be friends.” I laugh. “Those aren’t easy to come by for me. I had a nice time today.” A car horn honks somewhere and our gazes dart in that direction. We’ll always be on guard at the slightest disturbance in the world we live in nowadays.

She looks down at the pavement as her smile fades. Like it would be a criminal act if she showed me any side of her personality that wasn’t flawless. I wish she would. Give me the ammunition I need to put my silent jealousy to use. “We’re taking a break, Harper. Ben and I.”

My stomach flips, and I break out into a cold sweat. “Since when?” I blurt out. “It’s not my fault,” I say, holding out my hands. “Don’t tell me it’s my fault.”

She laughs. “No. Well, yes, it is, but it was my decision. Ben needs to sort his feelings and I think you might, too.” Staring at her, I catch the breath I didn’t know I’d lost. At my silence she says, “You need him now and this is as good a time as any to give him space.”

“Excuse me?” What a fine time for jealous rage to rise to the surface. “My feelings have always been sorted when it comes to our friendship. Ben lives inside a tiny corner of his mind where he can’t separate fact from fiction—a place that light doesn’t touch, a shriveled-up cavern of what might have been. He doesn’t live in the present, Norah. His feelings aren’t something he can sort, because, it’s…complicated.”

I can tell I’ve overstepped my boundaries and have hurt her feelings.

“I didn’t mean it that way. I meant that now that you’re single you might want to explore other options. He fully admitted he’s in love with you. To me. To my face. I love him. More than I ever thought possible. We work well together,” she explains. Looking off to the side, she tells me a story about how he brought her to meet his parents. How it felt so seamless and easy up until the second my name was brought up. “The air changed, and you might as well have been standing right there in their living room, Harper.”

I wonder which living room they were in and who brought me up. The way Norah’s eyes turn down in the corner tells me I’ve tainted a memory when I wasn’t even there. My spirit ruined the damn thing all by itself. “Okay,” I state simply. “I wasn’t there, and I can’t speak for Ben.”

We walk toward the parking lot that wraps around the back of the tall brick building. “I still can’t believe you want to be my friend,” I say.

She shrugs. “You’re not the only one bad with friendships. I’ve been tied up in school and then building my practice most of my adult life. When Ben talked about you like you were some winning lottery ticket I figured I might get a piece of that, too.”

I tell her a lame self-deprecating joke to try to counter the lottery ticket comment and she laughs. “You look beautiful. Thanks for today. For what it’s worth. I’ve always been honest with you about the friendship with Ben.”

She grins, opening her vehicle door. “Oh, I know you have. Ben’s going to try to change your mind, though. Mark my words.” She gets into her large SUV and pulls away. She has a sticker of a dog paw with a red heart in the middle on the back window.

I drive back to Ben’s house, careful of the busy intersections while I’m lost in thought. Norah knows Ben well. Not that it complicates things more than they already are. It merely heaps more guilt on top of a tricky situation.

++++

I decide not to broach his pseudo breakup separation with Norah in favor of keeping the mood light and carefree. He took his turn in the bedroom getting ready, while I told him all he needed to know about who was going to be there and what I expect of him. According to the online RSVP site, Marcus won’t be in attendance.

“And his friends will leave us alone, I’m sure. I made you wear a suit so you have to act like a gentleman, not a hand for hire.”

Ben scoffs audibly. I make sure to keep my tone light. It bothers him when he thinks I view him in any other way than the way I’m supposed to see him. People change and our times surely have changed, but my perception of Ben is supposed to warp to meet his desires. It’s easy most days, because he’s always been Ben to me. It’s harder now that I’m living here and I see his demeanor change almost completely in the span of a work day.

While he’s changing, I pull out the dress and cut off the tags using a kitchen knife. Sliding off my shorts, sandals, and T-shirt, I heft the soft material of the dress over my head, careful not to mess up my hair or makeup. The plunging V neck dips to mid stomach, so I remove my bra and toss it over the counter to land on the sofa, my bed.

“You can dress in my bedroom,” Ben says, voice low. “You’re a woman. You like the kitchen, but some things should stay in the bedroom.”

Grabbing the knife I used to cut off the tag, I aim it at him in mock outrage. “Take it back.” I smirk. Cursing at him in one of the languages I know he’s fluent in, I make my way around the counter. A half grin pulls the side of his mouth up as he replies back something just as mean.

He raises one brow. “Or else what? You attack me with a steak knife? Sounds like my kind of Friday night.” It’s now that Ben finally lets his gaze dip to the rest of my body. His neck works to swallow as he takes in the neckline, or lack thereof. “Or maybe we can add something else to the agenda.” He licks his lips.

I set the knife down on the edge of the counter. Even I have limits on how far I’ll go to prove a point. “You like my dress?”

“It jogs a certain memory.”

Picking up the heels—something I almost never wear—off a barstool, I balance on one foot and then the other to slip them on my feet. “I didn’t have the rack to wear this back then, but I did buy it for the color.”

He’s watching my every move—studying every motion and movement my body creates. Sometimes it’s like I’m an art model on display for him. If I move just the right way maybe the spell will be broken, and he’ll be unable to remember what he’s desperately trying not to forget.

“You look pretty dashing yourself, Mr. Brahams. Thanks for coming with me. It’s the culmination of everything I’ve been working toward.” I bury the compliment in other mundane facts so I don’t have to feel awkward about giving it. He does look stunning, though. Now that he fills out a suit with broad shoulders and thick arms, I know no one is going to miss him regardless of what he’s wearing.

“I need you to know something,” Ben replies. “Something I want to say that has nothing to do with you, but it probably has everything to do with us.”

Sighing, I steel myself for more conversation I’d rather not have. “Can we chat on the way? I don’t want to be late. My face will literally melt off at midnight. Like Cinderella except more real. Like Courtney Love.”

He laughs and grabs his keys to lock the door.

“Norah wants to take a break from our relationship.”

I nod. “We talked today while she was helping me get ready for tonight. Talk about weird. It feels right, though. Being her friend. She understands us, Ben.”

“She understands how I feel about you, Harps. Not us. No one else can understand us.”

He closes his door to the truck and starts it up. “I need to know where we stand. It’s almost as if the stars are aligning right now in the sky we grew up under, to make us happen.”

Panic sets in. I’m not the type of person who destroys a relationship for the sake of my own feelings. I always put others before myself. “What are you asking?” My words come out in a rush of hysteria.

“It’s been a while since we last had this conversation and I’m dropping it into our space again. For your consideration. You don’t have to make any decisions tonight. I can tell you’re about to hyperventilate over there and I don’t want one of your tits to pop out in a panic attack. We’re not dressed for Jazzercise right now. I’m throwing it out there again. That’s all.”

He’ll throw it out there until the cows come home. Until we’re old and gray, and I’m finally brave enough to take what I want. “You aren’t officially broken up, though. Are you?” It’s a minor detail most people this in love would overlook in light of our situation. I’m wary—in unfamiliar territory.

He furrows his brows as his lips purse. “If you need me to make that more official than the current state, I will. This whole thing with Marcus has made me realize how important you are to me. I stare death down on a regular basis and I don’t bat an eyelash. When your life comes into question, Harper, it’s no contest.”

I take a deep breath and adjust my dress. I don’t want a tit to pop out only because it would prove him right and right now I want him to be wrong. “I just need to think on it, okay? I haven’t been single in years. I need to think. I’ve had this plan in my mind, how everything was going to be and end up, and in less than a second he changed everything I thought I knew.” The hot sting of betrayal cuts through my chest. I’m not sad about Marcus anymore. The memory of him and what he stole, gives me rage. Norah told me I needed to sort through my feelings and I snapped at her. She’s right. “This isn’t that simple.”

“Let me take you bowling tomorrow. A Ben and Harper simple date.”

Crossing my legs, I turn to glance at the side of his face. He’s so beautiful it makes my heart hurt. It’s a moment of weakness. Of taking what I want for selfish reasons. “Yes. Fine. Bowling.” Sighing, I draw his gaze.

Ben bites his bottom lip. “I’ll whip your ass like always and we can binge on dirty water beer and nachos. I bet you won’t even get food poisoning this time.”

“You make it sound so appealing,” I deadpan. The smirk rises to my face anyway. “What’s tonight then? A pre-date-date?”

“Tonight, I’m just your plus one.”

He does admirably while mingling with my coworkers and superiors. I never thought he wouldn’t. Ben is smarter than I am. This was a path he didn’t choose but could have easily excelled in. My boss is impressed with his knowledge on a current language study. I sent him the link months ago with a note to give it a read if he had time. Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined he’d give it a second look, let alone read it thoroughly enough to quote passages and dissect nuances. I almost forget this isn’t his career, nothing like his chosen profession.

Ben sings my praises, he makes sure my glass of champagne is filled at all times, and he even pretends not to notice when Marcus enters the ballroom from the side door. We see him at the same time, though, so it’s obvious he’s aware. His posture changes, his stance widens, his breaths come in a furious succession as he becomes a human shield. One of his arms turns into a mom seat belt as he backs me away from a threat half a football field away.

I never filed a restraining order against Marcus. Not because it wasn’t the right thing to do, I should have on principle alone, but I know he’s not a threat to me anymore. That moment of hypocritical anger was his moment, the last memory he’ll ever have of Harper Rosehall in his world. Not only that, but his professional life would have been ruined and my life would have been made more difficult. Facts aside, he wasn’t supposed to be here tonight and that makes my whole body itch with unease.

Looping my arm through Ben’s, I guide him to the other side of the room. There’s a live jazz band playing softly, several tables with gourmet foods spread throughout the room, all under the beautiful low light of a gregarious chandelier in room center. Ben’s whole demeanor changes at the prospect of conflict.

“Time to go then?” he asks.

Coworkers try not to stare between Marcus and me. In the act of trying not to, they do—their heads bouncing back and forth between the two of us. No one but Martina knows all the details about the demise of our relationship, one that was heralded as the most epic love story of all time. The love linguistics department. Not so much. What most are aware of is it went down fast, crashing so hard that we don’t even speak anymore or want to be in the same breathing space together.

He nudges me again, his large hand encompassing my whole waist, and repeats, “Time to go?” The taut bulge of his muscles presses against me. An anti-warning because unlike Marcus, Ben would use his muscles and body to protect me at all costs.

Squeezing Ben’s hand, I say, “I really wanted to see Martina before we left. I bet she shows up shortly. We can eat more cheese,” I offer.

When he looks at me his eyes hold a fear so palpable, it makes my heart rate pick up. “It’s fine. Look at this room full of people. Don’t be scared of him.” It’s a joke. Put the men side by side and you have a laughable match. Ben could squash Marcus with a mean glare.

“I’m afraid of what I’m going to do to him,” he replies, teeth gritted.

I tsk. “A gentleman would dance with his plus one. Not get into a”—I look around the room, narrowing my eyes—“well, I can’t call it a bar brawl, per say. How about a work function fight?” I eye the band and hold up my arms to the side. “Dance with me?” This is a new territory. Me calming Ben. “Don’t even think about him. He’s afraid of me. I could have destroyed him.” I roll my eyes for good measure.

The temptation to wrap his arms around me wins out, like I hoped it would, and he pulls me into his chest in one big heave. “You should have, Harper. I’ll forget it for the moment, but we’re coming back to this topic later. You smell so good.” Distraction manipulated. One point.

He holds me closer and bends his head into my neck. Ben doesn’t spin us, we kind of sway, and I know it’s so he can keep his gaze locked on Marcus. I shiver in response to a blast of air conditioning. “He’s ruining this for me,” Ben growls, his lips barely brushing the side of my ear.

Quickly, I tilt my head away and spy Marcus and his brother, Darren, at the bar, eyes fastened on us on the dancefloor. I’m saved when Martina dances up with her husband. She has on her standard black boxy glasses, and a dark purple sheath dress. She’s tall with quirky black curls that pop out of any updo she tries to contain them with. Tonight it’s down and wild.

“You guys win.” Martina laughs. “Most beautiful couple. That dress, though, Harper. You’re really turning over a new leaf.” Little does she know.

“Oh, stop. You look beautiful. I love your hair. May I present you with the Benjamin Brahams,” I say, halting our awkward sway.

He reluctantly releases me and saves face with a false, happy front.

Martina gushes and is immediately caught up in conversation about Ben’s job. I think she’s the first person who knew exactly who he was and what he does. I blush for her. Her husband watches with mild amusement, shaking his head. He raises his brow when he catches me watching him.

“Tough luck with the other one,” he says, voice low.

I nod. “Yeah. He wasn’t supposed to be here. I’m glad I ran into Martina so we can get going.”

He looks confused for a moment or two. “He changed his RSVP when he saw you had a plus one,” he whispers.

Martina must tell him all of the gossip. Married people don’t have any secrets. I remind myself of this before I get irritated with my friend.

Turning slightly, I find Marcus staring at me. Darren has a different drink in his hand. “That’s surprising. He knows who I’d come with.”

Martina tunes into our conversation. “Yeah, a massive hunk of good looks and charm. My word. You’ve been keeping this one caged for all these years?”

Smirking, I take Ben’s arm again, trying to turn us subtly.

“Finally, someone with brains!” Ben exclaims. It seems Martina’s own charm has worked to calm Ben’s nerves. “I’ve been trying to get Harper to notice these qualities for the better part of two decades.”

I scoff. “Ben didn’t have these…attributes for the better part of two decades. Don’t let him fool you. The recent developments are just that. Recent.”

“What about my charm?” he asks, palming his chest as if I’d stabbed him in the heart. Martina and her husband laugh. “Haven’t I always had that?”

“When you weren’t breaking rules. I guess so,” I agree. “No breaking rules tonight either.” It’s a thinly veiled request and one I know he picks up on. He squeezes my waist.

“Harper. Nice to see you,” Marcus rasps from Ben’s other side. The reason I was trying to work us to stand in the opposite direction.

Martina’s eyes widen. She knows the whole story, which means so does her husband. I’m shoved behind Ben’s back before I can get a word out. SEALs give new meaning to the words reflexes like a cat.

“Don’t talk to her,” Ben hisses. “Get the fuck out of here. Right now.”

I can see Marcus swaying, a drunkenness I’ve only seen one other time—when his grandmother died—visible from my hiding spot. Laying a hand on Ben’s back, I try to remind him of where we are. He shakes his head as a response to my silent plea.

“I never want to hear her name come from your lips again. You have nerves of steel. I’ll give you that much. Which means you’re looking for trouble or, you’re a fucking idiot.”

Martina grabs my arm. “Let’s go to the bathroom.”

Ben spins on us. “She doesn’t leave my side.”

My eyes widen as I take in a side of Ben I don’t know. It’s scary. It’s also undeniably, mouthwatering hot. I have to check my psyche another time, because I’m not sure what that says about me. “Go. Get out of here,” Ben says, leaning forward to Marcus.

Darren wanders over, feet sluggish and eyes glassy.

His brother’s presence is all Marcus requires to leak asinine statements. “I have nerve? I’m the one with the nerve?” Marcus says, voice quavering. “You loved her when she was mine. You had her when she wasn’t yours.” I can see his neck work as he swallows and shakes his head. “Don’t call me a fucking idiot. I know what I want. You’re the fucking idiot for not going after what will never belong to anyone else. Maybe I do have nerves of steel, but someone needs to tell you to appreciate what you have.”

“You had to hit her to figure out how to appreciate her? That’s how it works then?” Ben’s breathing heavy and I can tell the effort it’s taking to keep from causing a full-on scene. “You’re a pathetic excuse for a man.”

Ben ushers me next to him. Marcus’ eyes dart to my chest, my body, and finally my face. “Take a look, man. Take a good, hard look. A nerves of steel look,” Ben quips.

My arms feel like spaghetti and my stomach has butterflies so wild a bout of nausea takes me over. The room is staring at us. “Hi, Darren,” I whisper. He didn’t have anything to do with Marcus’ reckless behavior and manners dictate I be a decent person.

Darren nods at me and takes another sip from his clear cup.

Grabbing my shoulders, Ben spins me to face him. “This one is for the fucking record, okay?”

His eyes are pleading, but his features are soft, a complete transformation from mere seconds before. “Okay,” I whisper, unsure what he wants me to say or do. He’s unreadable. His hot alpha kill mode has annihilated all of my Ben sensors.

“You hear that, Marcus? This is me setting the record straight for you and for anyone else who doubts what I want. Hell, what we both want.”

Ben grabs my face in his hands, his thumbs setting on the top of my bottom lip, one on each side. He smiles. An out of place smile that reminds me of the Ben from thirty minutes ago. The butterflies leave and the sappy, deep emotions I feel for this man soak my awareness. He kisses me, slanting his head to the side. My eyes close and I feel every single place where his body touches mine. The five o’clock shadow on his chin brushes my soft skin.

I grab his forearms and let him guide the kiss deeper still. I haven’t been kissed like this, or felt this much in a single melding of lips, since the last time we kissed. It’s like I’m opening a suitcase of emotions and love that’s been sitting untouched in a closet, dusty and disused. I’ve missed out on this, all this time. The thought makes me sad, and a tear slips from the corner of my eye.

Ben pulls back, eyes wide, and lips slightly parted. His hands are still on my face and he brings a finger up to brush away the salty remnants of a memory equal parts sad as amazing. I can have this now. Finally. Past relationships be damned. This is what life is about. Grinning at Ben, the rest of the room vanishes. We don’t say a word to each other. We don’t have to.

I think it’s why I wanted to go into linguistics. The silent language I’ve always had with Ben. We speak without saying a word and understand each other in a perfect harmony no one else could ever decipher. It’s ours. “Record straightened,” I whisper, mostly for my own benefit.

“It was better than I remembered,” he replies, glancing to the side and breaking eye contact for the first time since we pulled apart.

Sometime in the middle of the kiss, Darren and Marcus disappeared. Those who weren’t paying attention before are now. The room is applauding with cheers and whistles mixed in. My blush comes fast and furious, and Ben glows under the attention, waving and shaking both hands side to side like he’s accepting an award.

As we leave I remark that it’s like I’m starting over completely. I’m finished with school. The new chapter is starting. A new life, one of my own choosing.

A life I’ve always dreamed of.