Thirty-Two

“Sweetie, you sat inside all day yesterday. It’ll do you good to get some fresh air this afternoon.” Maggie set down her fork in her spinach salad—her most recent craving. She had already devoured its strawberries and walnuts. “And your friend Ben is from England? That’s exciting.”

Riley pushed up the three-quarter-length sleeves of her New York Islanders t-shirt and slumped back in her chair, taking a walnut from her salad with her. “Ben’s working.”

“Well, go meet Piper.”

“She’s making puppets after work.”

“Does she need help?”

Riley laughed. “She’s a grown woman making puppets—what do you think?” She rolled the nut between her fingers.

“Is Casey free? What’s Erika up to?”

“Mom, you’re trying to get rid of me?”

“I’m not! But at least your friends will keep you busy. Better than sitting here…”

I’m so down, I just want to hide. “I feel awful. I hurt him, Mom.”

“Honey, he’ll be fine. In time, he’ll realize it was for the best. No one should be with someone who doesn’t love them.”

“I know, but…”

“Besides, he’ll be so busy with graduation and prepping for the NHL, he’ll barely have time to think—and if I know his parents, they’ll be popping champagne corks over your breakup.”

What?! Riley scowled.

“You know what they’re like—God forbid Josh blows his chance at the NHL. I was dreading the day he ended up in the minor leagues and you got blamed.”

“Mom!”

“Well, they wouldn’t blame him, would they?” She nibbled on a spinach leaf. “I spoke to his mom on the phone two weeks ago.”

“Why?”

“I haven’t talked to her since their Fourth of July barbecue two summers ago. I thought with your engagement I should say hi, welcome to the family, that sort of thing, but she had a few choice words to say about him proposing.”

“Really? But Josh said—”

Maggie shook her head. “She thought Josh was getting too serious too quickly. They were worried he was becoming too dependent on you, always mentioning you and Minnesota in the same breath like he couldn’t imagine moving without you. She called you ‘his security blanket’.”

“Nice! I’m no better than an old stuffed toy.” Riley abandoned the walnut on her plate. But…he was hell-bent on me going with him. Her tight expression loosened. “Actually, she might have a point. I know he loved me…and he worked harder than I did to save what we once had.”

“I’m sure he loved you, honey, but he wanted you to be something you’re not and you just grew apart. It’s sad, but it happens all the time. That doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to feel a sense of loss. At the end of the day, you did the right thing—for both of you. It takes a strong person to walk away. I’m proud of you, sweetheart.”

“He’s always been in my life.”

“I know, but this is for the best. There’s nothing you should feel guilty about.”

If only.

Maggie stole the walnut from Riley’s plate.

Thank God Mom’s eating. Every meal was hit or miss. A text from Piper lit up Riley’s phone.

On break but wanted to share what Case and I wrote for the crowdfunding page. Let us know if it’s okay. Also sending Maggie pics for approval. If all good, we’ll post. Luv ya.

Lowering the phone into the lap of her jeans out of Maggie’s sight, she quickly read the call to action. It was to the point and upbeat without getting too in-your-face personal with information or emotion that would make Maggie cringe. Riley glanced up. Her mom was blissed out on gorgonzola and spinach, chewing with her eyes closed. If she mentioned the donation page, Maggie would probably say no. It was her last hope. Riley’s thumbs flew over the screen.

Post it. Share it.

• • •

A white platter heaped with crispy waffle fries and dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets bumped a plate of cheese-swamped nachos on a table set for two.

With a Disney-worthy smile, Ben delivered his best server’s spiel. “Enjoy your meal, and if you need anything else, my name is Benjamin!”

Nuggets shaped like dinosaurs! A real grin fought past the fake one Riley had painted on since leaving her mom’s. He remembered.

He leaned in close so his words could be heard over Beyoncé blasting through the speakers. “My treat.”

He didn’t have to do this. “Wow. Thank you!”

“My shift’s over in ten minutes—”

“Ben! Now!” A server twice his size rushed past with a frustrated scowl and two large platters crowded with club sandwiches.

“Yeah, coming.” Ben stifled a laugh. “I’ll be back before you know it.” He made a funny face and dashed after his co-worker. Cute didn’t even begin to describe how adorable he looked.

Riley exhaled, taking in the generous portions in front of her. She’d barely touched her salad at her mom’s and if she was going for a walk with Ben after his shift, she’d need protein and carbs to calm hungry, flighty feelings. Her mouth salivated, the plates crowded with the perfect comfort food. Fingertips poking into the fries’ deep ridges, she took her first bite. A little greasy, but sooo good. She nibbled on a chicken Tyrannosaurus Rex and checked her phone, opening a link Piper had sent to Maggie’s crowdfunding page. Scrolling down, three donations appeared: $20 from Piper, $20 from Casey, and—bless her—$200 from Piper’s mom in Chicago. Only another $14,760 still to go. She closed the page quickly so Ben wouldn’t spot it. Her mom’s health, the news about Josh—she wanted to keep Ben in the dark as long as she could. He was her only escape, her island.

Hiding her low mood, she swayed to Beyoncé’s “Single Ladies” and took a detour through Instagram and Facebook. Piper had posted a new puppet video and Casey was promoting dog adoptions. Queen Bey’s empowering lyrics began to fade, replaced by a taped music bed of strumming guitar. An enthusiastic male voice joined in, prompting Riley to look up over her shoulder. What? BEN?! On top of the banquettes! Her heart froze before leaping into a sprint. He’s performing RIGHT NOW!

Strutting atop two back-to-back rows of seats, Ben’s signature confidence was on full display as he traded vocals with a tall, good-looking black guy with charm to spare. Riley recognized the celebratory song immediately—“Everybody Say Yeah” from Kinky Boots. His blue eyes sparkled, full of excitement, and his voice…

Wow, his voice! Her jaw dropped mid-chew.

It was a revelation, rich with emotion, yet straddling that fine line between professional polish and over-the-top fun. High above customers chowing down on burgers, Ben and his singing partner swiveled their hips and bobbed their shoulders, their infectious interpretation of the Broadway favorite encouraging most diners to drop their cutlery and clap their hands. Two tables of rapt twenty-somethings danced in their chairs, singing along, while several teens slouched in a nearby booth perked up and raised their phones, capturing every perfect note and PG body roll. A trio of little kids leapt into the aisle and jumped around, adorably out of time with the beat, their parents’ attempts at corralling their offspring thwarted at every wiggle.

Riley bounced to the rhythm, her smile refusing to budge. He can really sing! And dance! Tragic Mike, my ass!

Ben caught her eye and winked, jumping back into the song for the rousing chorus before he hopped off the banquette’s back rest and vanished somewhere in the rear of the restaurant. His moment in the spotlight may have been less than four minutes long, but his happy-go-lucky demeanor and heartfelt performance left Riley feeling upbeat and impatient to congratulate him.

Several minutes later, he reappeared, his blue diner t-shirt, black trousers, and server’s waist apron replaced by an a-ha concert tee and low-slung faded jeans. His dark tangle of hair had a mind of its own.

Permanent bedhead. Riley couldn’t stop staring at it.

“Hey!” Ben slipped into the chair across from her, his smile collapsing. “Oh, something in my hair?” He pawed a hand through it.

I’m that obvious? “Uh, no, nothing!” She dropped her gaze to his chest. “Hey, nice t-shirt.”

“Ah, cheers!” His eyes flitted to the faded logo spread across her breasts and leapt back to the safety of her face. “Nice Islanders top. That’s ice hockey, right?”

“Right! We’ll make a New Yorker out of you yet.”

Ben grinned. “I feel like celebrating. I haven’t spilled anything on a kid or tripped over my own feet all day.”

“Never mind that—Ben, you were amazing up there!”

He ducked his head, a bashful smile—one Riley had never seen before—brightening his cheeks. “Cheers, Riles.” His eyes bounced to the plates. “Aw, not hungry?”

She nudged the half-eaten meal forward. “I saved you some dinos.”

“Mmm, nachos, too.” Ben snatched a chip, the mozzarella playing tug of war with the plate.

“You like nachos but not pizza? Weirdo.”

Ben’s eyebrows scrunched as he ate. “How’d you know that?”

“You told me at the bar…the strip club? I suggested pizza and you—”

“Oh, right.” He eyed her untouched water. “Can I have a sip?”

“Go for it.”

He sucked on the straw. “Yeah, it’s the sickly-sweet tomato sauce I don’t like.”

“Seems funny now, but I kinda thought you didn’t like me that night.” Riley’s mouth twisted. “It felt like you were trying to get rid of me.”

Ben abandoned the straw and took a massive gulp of water. He cleared his throat. “Erm, I forgot about that. Yeah, I was being careful…”

“About what? Cheap pizza slices? Yeah, they’re deadly—”

“About us…ah, this is awkward.” He set the glass on the table and shifted in his seat, avoiding her gaze.

Us? “Awkward?” Her expression pinched.

“Riley…” He lifted the straw and plunged it slowly into the water, stalling. “When we first met at the airport…I really fancied you.”

“And now I’m hideous?” Eyebrows aloft, a nervous laugh escaped from her throat. “Thanks a lot!”

“That’s not what I mean…” Ben glanced over his shoulder and pulled his chair closer, his long legs bumping her knees. “Oh, sorry!” He awkwardly peered under the table, wasting more time before reuniting with her eyes. “I thought…I thought you might be a snog…or a shag.”

Riley raised her eyebrows.

“I know, it sounds awful.” His eyes fell to the food on the table. “But that’s just what I’m used to. I don’t really DO relationships—too messy, and they never work out anyway.”

Oh God, he’s a fuckboy?! Is that why he doesn’t have a girlfriend? “So, when was your last relationship?”

“Drama school. It didn’t go well so…” His fingers balled up the discarded paper from her straw. “I…I hook up instead.” He winced.

Erghh! Well, at least he admits it!

“I’m sorry I was a jerk that night. I wasn’t in a good place. I was embarrassed about stripping, about being fired—lots of stuff. I was in self-preservation mode.” He shrugged, dropping the twisted paper. “And seeing you again…I still thought you were pretty and everything, but I knew you had a bloke so I wasn’t going to try anything. You were different from other girls, though…the way you spoke to me, the way you acted—you were kind, and I thought, ‘I could be mates with this girl.’ Truth be told, I don’t need another shag. I need a friend.” He shook his head. “Lucky for me, you weren’t having it. You didn’t walk away. You wanted to be a mate even when I was being an arse.”

“I did…I still do.”

“I know, and that means a lot—really, it does. I appreciate it…and I appreciate you saving half your lunch!” His eyes brimmed with mischief as his hand flew back in for more nachos. Mid-bite, he looked up and clocked an attractive brunette three tables away, his gaze lingering before returning to the cheesy snacks.

I’m different from other girls—yeah, like that one, a girl he wants to shag. Her stomach twisted. I feel kinda insulted, but at least he’s honest.

“You’re starving, huh? After all that”—she lurched forward, swatting his arm—“dancing! You had moves all along, you big liar!”

“Yeah, turns out I dance better with my clothes on. Who knew?” He winked as he liberated two nuggets. “Just keeping you guessing, Hope.”