Forty-Two

Two weeks later

Laughter, heavy footfalls, and thumping bass from the Friday night rager upstairs drowned out the bathroom sink’s faucet. Alone on the sofa, Riley explored Hunter’s living room, AKA Ben’s bedroom, for the first time. His possessions were scattered across the room: his mom’s pink wheelie case flipped open opposite the sofa, a lone candy cane sock lying across his dress shoes, and a messy pile of concert tees tumbling from the gaping mouth of his backpack. The cherished a-ha record leaned against the black wall, safe from foot traffic beside two birthday cards: hers and one with a tartan heart announcing Happy Birthday, Son. A small, half-eaten cake sat on the crowded kitchen counter flanked by unwashed dishes, but the rest of the place was alpha-male central with Hunter’s bicycle paraphernalia, protein powder tubs, and muscle-shredding free weights dominating the space.

Riley tugged the sleeves of her sweater over her wrists and smoothed her skirt, a jumbled knit blanket separating her from a messenger bag lying upside down. She looked up. Red ceiling—not exactly calming. How does Ben sleep here? Eyes returning to the coffee table, she spotted his phone. Should I…? I want to know about Mark. Curiosity gnawed her stomach. Ben was still busy in the bathroom…

She snatched his phone and woke it up. Still no security code. Entering his contacts, she guiltily scrolled the brief list…a few guys’ names, Hunter, several girls—Riley paused, then kept going. Piper, his mom, but no ‘Mark’, no ‘Keegan’, no ‘Keegs. Hmm. Did they lose touch then…or were they never friends?

She returned to the home screen and it buzzed in her palm. Shit! She dropped it on the table as if it had tasered her hand. A text from Hunter appeared: Dude, hurry up! My night off means I need my wingman!

Scooting backward into the cushions, the messenger bag shifted and something slipped out, falling to the floor. Jeez! Such a klutz. She bent over to scoop up the mess. Oh! Unopened condoms—Hunter’s prepared. She chucked the handful back into the bag, returning it to an upright position against the armrest. A name tag flipped over on the handle—Benjamin Fagan. Her stomach pinched as the faucet drew silent in the bathroom. Condoms, wingman—wise up, Riley. He’s off to meet women—probably sexually adventurous women, women used to different things than you, things Ben probably enjoys. Riley’s heart ached. What ARE you doing? This crush needs to stop now—

“O-kay, all ready!” Ben swept into the room, the scent of soap and toothpaste following him. His face was smiley and his fluffy hair begged for attention, as did his ass, exquisitely displayed in dark jeans.

Ben’s hookup ready. He won’t be crawling into bed alone tonight.

“I’ll let Hunter know I’m on my way and we can make a move.” He glanced up at Riley. “This weather, eh? Last weekend in June and we’re both wearing sweaters.” His fingers slipped along his hem. “Thanks for dropping this off. Maggie fixed it perfectly—it’s like new! You’d never know there was a hole.”

“There were five holes!” Riley snickered. “I think it’s time to buy another sweater. You can’t live in New York with just one—”

Her phone lit up. PARTY UPDATE—Josh brought a date! Leia stormed out, says his date is one of Tyler’s puck bunnies. PLS COME SOON. Can’t have bachelorette/bachelor party w/o ANY bridesmaids!

Her shoulders fell.

“Is it Maggie?”

“No, Erika’s freaking out.” Riley looked up. “Josh brought a date, Leia left in a huff…”

“Shit! Are you okay—with Josh being…?”

“With someone? It’s fine. I want him to move on, I just… It’s going to be awkward, and I wish I didn’t have to go.”

Ben walked away, yanking his sweater over his head.

Riley’s eyebrows pinched. “Too hot?”

“I’m changing. I can’t let you walk in there solo, not when he’s bringing someone.”

What? He’s coming…with me? “Ben, I’ll be fine. You, on the other hand, are gonna face Hunter’s wrath if you don’t show in Soho soon.” Her eyes traced his back, his muscles flexing as he whipped open the small closet by the door. You’re staring again! Stop! She dove back into her phone.

“This party’s posh, right? At some exclusive sky-high bar?”

Her phone buzzed with a text.

RYE HELLO! Did you get my msg?

“Yeah, but I dressed for the rooftop deck…warmth and comfort over style.” She giggled, beginning her reply to Erika. “All Erika’s fashionista friends will probably stare—”

Zzzzzzzip.

Riley glanced up. Ben was stepping out of his jeans, his navy underwear with several FCUKs on the waistband showing, along with so much more. Oh—hello, tight butt! He turned and she caught a glimpse of body hair before her eyes drifted…down…followed by her jaw. Woah, Ben…! She averted her gaze, her mind stuttering.

Ben pulled a dark gray suit from the closet. “C’mon, Riles, get your skates on!” A laugh left his lips. “Tonight’s another first—we’re partying under the stars!”

• • •

Thirty stories above the squawking taxis and Friday night madness of Midtown, Ben and Riley strolled down a moodily lit hallway that opened into The Skylark’s main lounge, all floor-to-ceiling windows, leather couches, and Instagram-worthy views.

“See anyone you—wow!” Ben sputtered. “Look!” He pointed to their right where the Empire State Building glittered its breathtaking welcome.

Riley sighed. “Oh!” Smitten by the jewel in the dark sky, she stepped toward the glass. “She’s stunning.”

“Yeah, she is.” Ben smiled softly, his eyes sweeping up Riley’s back to the honey waves pooling over her shoulders.

“Rye, thank God!” Erika rushed through a cluster of Hugo Boss and Calvin Klein, her champagne-hued cocktail dress a successful score after schmoozing with designers at last month’s Met Gala. “You’re here…with Ben?” She side-eyed his secondhand suit.

I saw that Erika! Riley squeezed Ben’s arm. “Yes, and don’t we look amazing?”

His hand crept up his black tie. “I hope I’m not gatecrashing…”

“No, it’s just—” Erika’s flittering glance searched her guests.

“Josh is here—yeah, Riles told me.”

Erika smiled tightly. “I can’t deal with more drama.”

“You won’t get it from me, scout’s honor.” Ben scratched his whiskers. “Where’s the bar?”

“Turn the corner, can’t miss it.” Erika pointed over her shoulder.

“Is it…”

“Free? Yes, Ben.”

“Great! The usual, Riles?”

“Please.”

With a nod and several ‘pardon mes’, he was swallowed up by the well-heeled crowd.

“Is Stanley Pup here somewhere?”

Erika ignored Riley’s question. “It’s not serious, Josh and that girl—it’s just sex.” She couldn’t get the words out fast enough.

Riley stuck out her chin. “It’s none of my business.” A gust of cool wind blew through the open patio door. “He’s a free agent so…” She shivered. “Look Eri, I know you’ve known us both for ages and you’re taking our split hard, but I’m happy with my decision, and obviously Josh is, too.”

“I thought he would’ve begged to get back together.”

Riley fell silent for a moment, peering at the lit skyscrapers puncturing the evening sky. “He doesn’t need an unhappy fiancée trailing after him to Minnesota. He’s got a bright future and should take advantage—even if that means hooking up with Tyler’s castoffs.”

“Rye!”

“Josh never cheated on me. He could’ve, but he didn’t. So, let him have some fun.”

“As long as it’s him having fun and not my Scott.”

“Scott would never! He’s infatuated, the most faithful hockey player ever.”

“Speaking of unfaithful…” Erika’s eyes followed a confident blond in a black suit back-slapping his way through the party. “That asshole didn’t move a muscle when Leia ran out.”

Riley scrunched up her nose. “I feel sorry for her.”

“That was easier than I thought.” Ben appeared at Erika’s elbow with a tray of drinks. “Bride-to-be, champers for you.”

“Ah, thanks.” Erika claimed her flute.

He handed Riley an orange cocktail. “A sidecar for you—”

A vigilant server appeared at his side. “I can take that, sir.”

“Ta!” Ben relinquished the tray and sipped his pint. “Erika, I saw Scott. He said someone from Housewives is asking for you—”

“What!” A hand flew to her mouth. “The REAL Housewives?”

Riley waved her on. “Go!” She laughed as her friend tore through her guests. “It’s Eri’s dream to be on that show.”

“I guess that’s her TV happily ever after, eh?” Ben winked.

“The sun always shines on TV, right?”

Ben chuckled over the rim of his glass. “So, want to nose around?”

Riley led Ben through the throng, past cushy blue sofas and button-studded leather pouffes accessorized with all-star NHL players and their partners. The divide between flings, girlfriends, and wives was difficult to decipher when free booze was flowing and everyone looked like models. Riley gave Ben the play-by-play, whispering who the players were and how they were connected to Erika and Scott.

The bride-to-be appeared over Riley’s shoulder, arms linked with a striking brunette.

“Riley, Ben! Have you met Olivia Chadwick-Smythe? Ben, she’s from London!”

“Hi.” Riley and Ben spoke at the same time. No one attempted to shake hands as Olivia’s were occupied with a bulging white envelope and a roll of raffle tickets.

“Erika thinks all Londoners know each other.” Olivia’s posh British accent made Riley stand up straighter. “In lieu of Erika’s no-engagement-gifts policy, we’re doing a fifty-fifty draw. It’s thirty tickets for fifty dollars or a hundred for a hundred. End of night, half the money raised goes to the winner, the other half to my theater charity for at-risk youth in the Bronx.” Her long eyelashes blinked expectantly.

“Um…” Riley grimaced at Erika. You know I would if I could…

Ben squinted at her discomfort. “Oh, bugger…” His accent was distinctively more plummy sounding. He dug dramatically in his suit jacket pocket, smiling at Olivia. “I was running quite late and managed to forget my wallet.” His hand produced a crumpled five-dollar bill. “Best I can do, unfortunately, love.”

Accepting the ratty bill, Olivia fought a frown. “Every little bit helps.” She exhaled heavily, tore off a single ticket and slapped it in Ben’s hand, turning on her heel with barely a “Cheers.”

“Good luck!” Erika blew a kiss and followed Olivia to the next table.

“Thanks for bailing me out.” Riley laughed. “But what the fuck was that voice?”

“Shut up! I can do posh!” Ben stuffed the ticket in his pocket. “I don’t remember Her Majesty from the bachelorette.”

“No, she wasn’t there. I think Eri added her to her social circle recently.”

Another drink later, Riley pointed out on-air TV personalities and several socialites, their enviable fashion show making her question her choice of outfit. At least Ben looks lovely in his suit. She stared down at her boots and tights, feeling like her lack of wealth and trendiness made her stand out. It’s so surreal. This party, the booze…how much of Mom’s treatments and bills could be covered by all this?

“I feel…guilty.” Riley squeezed her glass. “Drinking expensive cocktails when I can’t pay my loans, can’t help out Mom.”

Ben tossed back the dregs of his second pint. “That’s why you should enjoy all this. You don’t take it for granted, not like some of these spoilt brats.” He eyed a parade of servers snaking through the party with trays of bite-sized indulgences. “I didn’t eat today, did you?”

She shook her head. “I have ten bucks ’til pay day. I’m rationing cereal.”

His warm hand wrapped around hers. “Not anymore, my lady.” He flagged down passing waiters, making sure Riley sampled every option.

“Pigs ’n’ blankets, pretzel bites—mac ’n’ cheese cupcakes?” Ben’s eyes lit up. “How does that work?”

He didn’t stop hijacking appetizers until Riley groaned with satisfaction. She gave high praise to the Buffalo chicken lollipops while Ben broke away from his pretzel obsession to proclaim the BLT lobster rolls his favorite. “I’ve never had lobster before. It’s lush!” A spot of bacon and tomato jam rode the corner of his boyish grin.

He doesn’t try to be adorable—he just is. “You’re got a little…” Riley motioned with her finger, and Ben’s tongue licked his lip with a soft flick.

Lucky lip. Riley’s gaze stuck, her memory rewinding to Ben’s earlier surprise strip in Hunter’s apartment, his tight backside, the impressive bulge stretching the thin layer of cotton… Heat spread up her neck to her cheeks. Ben’s obviously a show-er, not a gr—

His eyebrows creased. “Is it still there? You’re staring.”

“Oh, no, you’re good.” Looking away, she hid behind her hair and scrunched her eyes. SO good! Jeez, stop torturing yourself! She inhaled a deep breath and exhaled into a smile, her glance skating across a silver table topped with flickering candles, half-drunk cocktails, and a guy leaning on the far edge, staring. Josh. A shiver crept up her spine. Act natural. She turned back to Ben. “Let’s head to the roof deck.”

“Sure.” He laid his hand on her lower back, staying close and guiding her through the noisy crush.

“I don’t think we’ve met.”

The loud voice turned Ben’s head.

Riley’s jaw stiffened. Great. She painted on a breezy smile and glanced back. “Josh, hi.”

His wall of a body weaved. “You act fast.” Boozy breath lingered between them.

And he’s drunk. Riley’s eyes flirted with the ceiling. “Josh, it’s not like that.”

“Seriously, mate, we’re friends.” Ben shifted closer to Riley. “Calm down.”

“Great.” Josh snorted. “He’s Australian?”

“Josh, Ben. Ben, Josh.” Riley shook her head. “I’m here to support Erika and Scott, not to rub your nose in a new relationship. Speaking of which…where’s your date?”

“She fucked off already.” Josh swayed and whiskey slopped over the lip of his glass.

“Well, why don’t you mingle? Introduce yourself around. It’s the perfect opportunity to meet more NHLers, right?” Riley looked over her shoulder, hoping he’d take the hint.

“Yeah…mingle. I should meet teammates and…” Josh opened his mouth but forgot his point before the words came. “Get another drink.” He staggered away, spilling a trail of whiskey.

“Nice save there, Riles,” Ben whispered. “I wasn’t relishing another broken nose.”

“Let’s head to the roof. I don’t want Josh bothering us again.”

Arriving on the thirty-second floor’s east terrace, Ben was mesmerized by the sparkly lights of the city. “It would be peaceful up here if there wasn’t a party going on.”

A crisp breeze tousled Riley’s hair.

“You warm enough? Want my jacket?”

Josh would never offer. Too bad I’m not cold… “That would be great!”

Ben swiftly wrapped it around her shoulders, and Riley fought the urge to bury her nose in it for a deep sniff.

They walked along the north side, marveling at the lights from Times Square as they passed clusters of beige couches filled with Erika and Scott’s guests. Searching for seats, they shuffled through the crowd, passing the women’s restroom where raised voices slurred and sparred. Riley snickered at Ben’s wide-eyed headshake, the pair turning a corner where a tiny nook’s gray L-shaped sofa sat vacant.

“Finally!” Ben fell into the cushions. “Work did a number on my back today.”

“You’re such an old man!” Riley dropped down beside him.

The yelling inside the restroom grew louder, closer, two angry female voices competing with Justin Timberlake crooning through the terrace speakers.

“That’s why this couch was free.” Ben chuckled.

“For fuck’s sake!” a woman howled. “I can’t go anywhere, not even to my best friend’s party without one showing up!”

Shit! That’s Leia. Riley bit her lip.

“Well, I didn’t invite her!”

Holy crap—Tyler!

“Ooh, drama! Where’s the Real Housewives people when you need them?” Ben laughed.

“Maybe we should give them privacy?” Riley stood up, grasping Ben’s jacket at her shoulders so it didn’t fall off. “I don’t want to be in the middle of a domestic situation that ends up on Page Six.”

“You fucking liar!”

Okay, that wasn’t Leia. “Ben, let’s go.”

The warring couple careened out of the restroom, closely followed by a disheveled brunette, her dress half-unzipped, teetered on sky-high heels. The intoxicated trio blocked Riley and Ben’s escape.

“Shit!” Ben frowned and looked over his shoulder. “Can we head back the other…?”

Is THAT the girl who came with Josh? Riley’s jaw dropped.

“Leia, calm down!” Spying the slack jaws of Erika, Olivia, Riley, and his riveted teammates, Tyler buttoned his shirt and lowered his voice. “I think we’ve both had too much to drink. Lemme take you home—”

“Oh, listen to husband of the fucking year!” Leia looked angry but broken, mascara streaking down her cheeks. Riley felt pity for her.

“Leia, baby, c’mon. Don’t do this. Let’s get out of here.”

“You bastard! You promised me—never again. You enjoy it, don’t you, you sick fuck—hurting me?” Leia’s wobbled precariously, steadying herself with the help of a table. As she gained her balance, her eyes widened, spotting Riley and Ben. “TWO can play that game.” She pointed a wobbly finger at Ben. “See that guy? I fucked him hard in our bed.”