Lace and Paint (True Colors Book 1) by Ally Sky (16)

“Have you bought a dress yet?” Danny takes a sip of beer and leans back onto the sofa. It’s nine p.m. and he arrived home from work not so long ago, dealing quite heroically with John’s annoyed look. I’m drinking a glass of red wine in the living room and trying to figure out what he’s on about.

It’s a regular Thursday evening, and I’m tired from wandering around the city. I dropped by to see Gary at Brick Lane and spent the afternoon talking to him about his experiences of fatherhood. With my lack of knowledge about babies, I couldn’t help but laugh at his descriptions of little Ruthie and her mom. His exhaustion was as obvious as my own.

I can’t sleep. I toss and turn in bed, my dreams giving me no rest. I’m jumpier than usual, grumpier than usual, and more easily provoked.

“What are you talking about?” I look at Danny, mystified.

“For Saturday.” He gives me an inquiring look. I still don’t understand. “For the work event?”

“What event?”

“Didn’t Sarah tell you?” he asks in disbelief.

No, Sarah didn’t say a thing to me, and the more I think about it, neither did Ben. I haven’t seen him since yesterday morning, when I slipped out of his house and back into my bed, pleased that no one saw me and I didn’t have to lie to Danny again.

“No, so will you please fill in the blanks?” I groan.

A work function? That doesn’t sound like much fun. Just another evening of pretending I don’t know Ben. That is, other than polite hellos.

“The annual Storm Buildings event. It’s a major thing, and you need a major dress.”

Fuck. What do I know about elegant dresses? I do all my shopping at Primark and at New Look, and my purchases usually end up being short and tight. I don’t think that’s what Danny has in mind.

“I don’t know where to buy a dress,” I complain.

“Aren’t you in luck we have John here? Honey, will you take Talia shopping tomorrow, so that she won’t have any excuses?”

“For you?” John gives Danny a little kiss. They seem to have moved past the crisis they’d had at the beginning of the evening.

“Excellent. Okay, buy a dress for Saturday. We leave at six.” Danny gets up from the sofa and John looks at me happily. At least I’ll get to spend some time with John.

Lying in bed, I open up Facebook and send Ben a message.

As usual, he wastes no time and answers immediately.

I log out. I’m starting to get used to the horrendous hours he and Danny spend at work. Danny keeps saying it’s temporary. Several new projects have come in all at the same time, or something along those lines. I’m not sure if it’s just an attempt to calm John down, or whether my men are just unable to wrap up a day’s work at a normal hour and come home. And now I’m left with my longing. Knowing I won’t be able to fall asleep, I put on my stained clothes and go down to the basement.

Walking down Oxford Street, I’m wearing sunglasses that, fortunately for me, hide my tormented look. What do I know about elegant dresses? I usually love shopping, but today I’m just not in the mood. I wonder if it’s because I didn’t sleep in Ben’s bed last night, or that I hardly slept at all. I only came up from the basement at around four in the morning. Danny and John had no idea, and I’m sure they would be unhappy to learn their present was keeping me awake.

John is waiting for me at the corner of New Bond Street. I only hope we don’t waste our whole afternoon doing this.

“Hi.” He gives me a warm hug. “Don’t look so sorry for yourself.We’re going shopping!” He laughs and leads the way. I stare at the sidewalk. I don’t care where he’s taking me. I just want to get it over with as quickly as possible.

We enter a shop. The dresses are stunning, but I’m in no mood to shop and don’t feel like being here. John takes a few dresses off their hangars and sends me to the dressing room with them. I try on three but I’m not happy with any of them.

Ugh! This is going to be a slow process.

I try on a fourth dress and look in the mirror. The black dress John has chosen has wide, asymmetrical straps, which cover my cleavage and I like it. It clings to my body in folds and falls from my waist in a wrap-around design, as though there’s a slit in the front, but it covers my legs to my shins. It really is gorgeous.

“Well?” John asks enthusiastically from the other side of the door, “are you managing in there?”

“I think so…” I reply and continue looking in the mirror.

“Let me see,” he calls out, and I hesitatingly emerge from the dressing room.

“Wow! Talia, it’s perfect.” He smiles widely.

“It is, right?” I ask, not feeling very confident.

“You have to take it.”

I check the price tag and choke. Holy fuck. 1,500 pounds!

“John, which shop are we in?”

“What? It’s not that expensive,” he exclaims. “Donna Karan.”

My jaw drops. Donna Karan?

“I can’t take it.” I shake my head.

“Of course you can. We’ll buy it for you,” he insists.

“I don’t want you to buy it for me. You’re already far too generous as it is, spoiling me with free board and lodging. You’re not buying me this dress,” I tell him resolutely. I go back into the dressing room and take it off carefully, making sure nothing happens to it.

The dress is amazing, and I can see myself wearing it to the work event, even though I have no idea where it’s being held. I can just imagine the smile on Ben’s face when he sees me wearing that dress. But 1,500 pounds? My mood is even shittier now, as I hang it back on the clothes hanger and get dressed.

“John, would you mind letting me try on some dresses that are more sensibly priced?” I ask, as we leave the shop.

“You should’ve taken it.” He smiles at me as we go back to Oxford Street. We cross over and go into Debenhams.

We wander around the five-story store. It takes time but, eventually, I find a black maxi dress with a V-shaped cleavage. Tiny diamond-like stones decorate the wide straps and create the shape of a buckle on the high waist. The material flows in thin layers to my ankles. I check the price hesitantly—60 pounds. That’s more reasonable. I buy it and the saleslady packs it in a plastic bag. I’m ready to get back home, this has already taken too long.

“Come on, there’s a small café on the ground floor with a nice lounge area. Let’s sit there and talk.” John leads me to the escalator. At least I like talking to John.

“So, when are we going to meet Tom?” We drink our coffee downstairs and John doesn’t waste any time, diving straight into the hot subject. Danny has been trying for the past days to get me to invite him for supper, but I continue to avoid the subject.

I need to find a cover story.

“I don’t know,” I mumble nervously. “I don’t think he wants to come.”

“Why not?” John frowns.

“I don’t really know what’s going on between us.” I make up a white lie.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s complicated. We’re still trying to figure out what we want exactly,” I reply, and a tiny thought creeps in that it’s not that far-fetched from what’s happening with Ben.

“You’re not a couple?” he asks, surprised.

“Not really.”

“Don’t you go out with his friends?”

“No.”

“So what do you do when you’re together?” he enquires sternly.

I grin impishly. Come on, what do we do when we’re together?

“Talia…” He shakes his head.

“What?” I assume an innocent expression, as though it isn’t totally obvious that John won’t be pleased.

“Why do you put up with that?”

I feel as though I’ve just been punched in the stomach. Why do I put up with that? That’s exactly what I’m doing. Spending my nights with an amazing man who doesn’t want to give me anything more.

“That’s all he can give me right now,” I answer. “I’m so messed up.” I take a sip of coffee.

“You’re not ‘so messed up,’ you just tend to complicate even the simplest situation. I’m starting to think you enjoy it.” He grins.

“You think?” I ask. It’s a pity smoking isn’t allowed here.

“Talia, you’re an amazing girl and you’ve so much to offer, but you keep repeating the same mistake.” He takes a sip of coffee and stares at me unhappily. “Do me a favor.”

What do I have to offer anyone?

“You judge yourself way too harshly. You just need to assume a little bit more responsibility for your life.”

“Easy for you to say.”

He looks at me seriously and replies, “You make yourself out to be a victim, and that isn’t going to get you very far.”

“I don’t make myself out to be a victim,” I reply quietly. “I’m just realistic.”

“The reality you live in is mainly in your head. You prefer seeing failure instead of focusing on what you’re good at.”

“If you’re trying your amateur psychology on me.” I smile at him. “It won’t get you very far.”

“Let’s test out my amateur psychology skills.” John smiles. “If I were to ask you now to state three qualities you least admire about yourself, what would they be?”

Is he serious? Only three? Because I can give him quite a few more if he insists…

I hesitate, not knowing whether I should reveal what I truly think of myself. How did this conversation get so intense?

“Come on, don’t be shy. I won’t agree with a word you say anyway,” he encourages me.

“Let’s see. The first quality: I have no backbone. I find it extremely important to please other people – even at my own expense. The second quality: I can’t make decisions, and the third? Well, you know what I think about the way I look, so let’s not get into that again,” I answer truthfully.

“Okay. Let’s leave that aside for a moment. We’ll get back to that. Now I want you to state three positive qualities, things you like about yourself.” He makes himself comfortable in his chair, and a smile appears.

Okay, three strong qualities of mine. Let’s see…I try to think of something I like about myself, yet nothing specific comes to mind.

Damn, it’s not that hard. I struggle to find something positive to say as he continues to smile.

“Well?” He’s beaming, and I find it difficult to concentrate. Eventually I give up. A heavy feeling engulfs me. Can I really not say one positive thing about myself?

“And your point is?” I challenge.

“You’re lovely when you sulk,” he laughs.

“Your point?” I remind him.

“My point is, we’re so busy dealing with what’s wrong with us, we forget to appreciate all the good. Look at how easily you threw out three negative things. But when I asked for three positive things, you couldn’t find even one. Don’t feel bad, most people fall into the same trap. The thing is, we all have strong qualities, we just dismiss them easily.”

“And you can find three things I’m good at?” I frown.

“Easily.”

“Well?” I’m dying to hear what he has to say.

“Talia, you’re talented, you’re an amazing conversationalist, exceptionally eloquent, friendly, and funny, and so brave, dealing with things that would have destroyed other people ages ago.”

“I asked for only three. You can stop now.” I’m embarrassed and amazed John has found so many good things to say about me.

“You still don’t know how to accept a compliment.”

“Not really,” I reply.

“I take it Tom won’t be coming with you to the event tomorrow?”

“I don’t think so.” I smile slightly.

“At least your dress is amazing.” He laughs warmly.

“I still can’t believe you took me to Donna Karan’s shop, what were you thinking?”

It’s Saturday afternoon. I’m lying in bed, too lazy to get up after going to bed late last night. When we got back from shopping, all I wanted to do was paint and try to sort out my thoughts. The conversation with John had rattled me more than I thought.

Danny told me to be ready by six. I won’t paint today. I don’t feel like getting my hands stained. Anyhow, there are still stains on my fingers from the last few days.

What’s left to do is to write.

After a long shower, I don suitable panties, as well as the dress I bought. No need for a bra.

I put my hair up, and put on my makeup, trying to make it look natural, just light brown eye shadow, eyeliner, and mascara. Then I wear my chosen high heels, dab on a light shade of lipstick, grab my black purse, and leave the room.

Danny and John are standing in the kitchen in their black tuxedos. They seem impressed as I walk up to them and try to smile. I’m wondering if they notice how nervous I am.

“Nice job, John.” Danny grins. “Talia, you look great.”

“Thanks.” I swallow hard. “Can we get this over with already?

“I assume we’re all going to drink tonight, so…a cab?” John looks at Danny for assurance.

“Yes.” Danny calls us a cab and, five minutes later, it arrives. We get in and my body starts to shake.

Even from a distance, Ben can cause my heartbeat to quicken.

The cab stops at Portman Square and we get out. The weather is chilly and I wrap myself up in the silver shawl I remembered to bring. We stand in front of an old, grey building. The big wooden door in front of us is closed, and I think to myself that this place looks nothing special.

Why bother with a tuxedo and a new dress? It looks so inappropriate.

“You ready?” Danny smiles, and I nod.

He opens the door and we enter a small room, which is dominated by a large reception desk. A pleasant-looking man in a black-and-purple uniform is sitting on the other side.

“Good evening,” he greets us.

“Good evening. We are here for the Storm Buildings event.”

“Of course. Welcome. Please come through.” He stands up, goes to a large, wooden door in the wall opposite us, and opens it.

We go inside and I gasp. What is this place? Nothing outside the building indicated what was going on inside. I look around, astounded.

We’re standing in front of a colossal, round stairway and when I look up, I see a huge, fancy, glass dome. The walls and furniture are designed in elaborately in the style of the nineteenth century.

“Where are we?” I ask. My voice lowers in awe as I turn and try to take in as much of the view as I can.

“Home House. It’s a private members’ club, London’s best kept secret,” Danny replies. “Nice?”

“It’s amazing…” I’m speechless.

We go through another wooden door and enter a huge hall. I look up. Glass chandeliers hang from the ceiling, lighting up the room in a soft, yellow hued glow. The pictures on the wall are even more beautiful as you walk along. The carvings and engravings are precise and exact. Along the pale-colored walls, there are elegant matching sofas. A few round, heavy ottomans in red-and-brown leather are scattered around the room.

In the corner, a string quartet is playing jazz. We aren’t the first to arrive, and I search for a pair of familiar green eyes among all the people.

A server dressed in black pants and a long, white, buttoned jacket approaches us. I notice a picture of a cute crocodile on each and every button. Are there any details they’ve missed?

“Would you like something to drink?” she asks with a smile.

“Whiskey?” Danny checks with John.

“Yes, what are you drinking, Talia?”

“Nothing. Maybe later,” I answer. I’m still trying to take in everything that’s going on.

“Two Lagavulin please,” John orders a whiskey I’ve never heard of, it seems that this place is definitely something special.

“Do you want to walk around the building? We’re going to go and say hello to a few people,” Danny offers, as if reading my mind. To be honest, I would love to disappear, there is no sign of Ben and my nerves are jangling.

“Yes,” I reply.

“Be careful you don’t get lost.”

I walk away from him and out of the big hall. It would be so like me to get lost in this place.

There’s a big garden, filled with generously spaced tables and parasols. Tiny lamps light up the stone tiles, and I wander among them. This is unreal.

I take out a cigarette and sit on a chair in the corner, wrapping myself in my silver shawl, trying not to freeze.

Although it’s June, it’s still cold. Goddamn weather. I inhale deeply and close my eyes.

I’m in London, in this amazing place, and it’s not quite as I imagined. I have a job, my paintings, and the blog, as well as my man with his green eyes that burn holes in my heart.

I feel as though I’m living someone else’s life and I don’t know whether or not I feel good about it. I can’t get the conversation I had with John out of my head. Tonight, more than any other night, I want to be mischievous and funny and charming. Instead, I’m sitting in this delightful garden, smoking a cigarette and running away from it all.

Although I’d like to hide in my little corner forever, I put out my cigarette, and go back inside, heading up the stairwell. My hand slides over the white railing. God, this building is huge. I wander around and absorb the smells and colors in every corner. The rooms are full of amazing wall paintings and designer corners made up into tiny living rooms. Waiters in their black-and-white uniforms with the golden buttons go around, offering drinks to the guests lounging on the sofas. I go down the stairs to the other side of the building.

Here the light colors change to a weak, dim lighting, with louder and more contemporary music. The bar is set up and, for a moment, I consider getting a drink, but I decide to go back. I don’t want Danny to start worrying. I return to the large hall, which, in the meantime, has filled up with people. I hardly know anyone here. It seems to me as though they’re all staring at me, wondering who I am and what I’m doing here.

“There you are.” Danny sees me from the other side of the room and makes his way to me. I breathe a sigh of relief. “Did you enjoy walking around?”

I nod wordlessly. A polite server walks past with a tray of glasses filled with red wine and I take one.

“Come, I want to introduce you to a few people,” he says, and I go with him, feeling self-conscious. My eyes search the room, could it be he hasn’t arrived yet? I don’t think so; after all, this is his event.

Danny turns to speak to a man who is standing and talking to a woman in a short, red dress—too short. I recognize Sharon, the almighty secretary of Storm Buildings. Her dress is extremely revealing.

“Daniel!” The man shakes Danny’s hand warmly, looking happy to see him.

Daniel. It’s been years since I last heard someone calling Danny by that name.

“Mason, I want you to meet Talia, my younger sister.” Mason smiles at me and shakes my hand, while Danny continues to the introductions. “And you’ve already met Sharon.” She smiles at me, while checking me out with a look I can’t quite fathom.

I nod slightly and give a forced smile. I can still remember her hand stroking Ben’s arm in the park—and now this dress. If she’s thinking of trying something, she’d better reconsider.

Danny and Mason are talking, but I can’t be bothered to listen. I find myself searching the large hall. Where the hell is he?

And then I see him in the corner of the room, wearing a gorgeous, black tuxedo. He’s talking to a guy I don’t know, as I don’t know most of the men in the room. He seems to be smiling, but I can’t be sure. His hair is getting longer. It’s not as short as it was. I smile and wonder if he’ll cut it or grow it out. His long fingers are wrapped around a glass of whiskey. A woman is standing next to him, she’s facing me and I can see she’s pretty. No, she’s really pretty. She’s wearing a black, knee-length dress along with high heels, and she’s thin, almost as thin as I am, but much taller, with shiny, brown hair that cascades down her shoulders. She probably spent half the day in a beauty salon. She’s holding a glass of red wine and giggling. Ben bursts out laughing, and I can’t help but wonder who she is.

He turns his head, and our eyes meet. My heart skips a beat as he nods slightly and smiles casually, not giving away a thing. He’s really good at it. I nod back and smile slightly. I have to pretend. I can’t let anyone see.

I look at the group of people standing next to me, laughing aloud. Danny has disappeared without my noticing and I’m left standing with strangers. I listen to them and then recognize Carla from the park, dressed in a flattering, peach-colored dress.

A man who looks familiar from the weekend football games in the park is hugging her waist—he must be her husband, Ron.

“…and then she dragged me to see Phantom of the Opera.” Ron’s saying with great amusement. “I’m telling you, I haven’t slept that well in months.” The group bursts out laughing.

Carla continues the story. “And when it ended and I asked him how it was, he said, ‘Dreamy!’” Ron sees me standing next to them and turns to me. His cheeks are flushed from alcohol.

“Talia,” he smiles. “Have you seen Phantom of the Opera?” He catches me off guard.

“No,” I answer, hesitating, “I’m a fan of the lighter genre.”

“Have you seen anything interesting lately?” Carla asks, smiling and I know she’s trying to pull me into the conversation.

“Not lately.” A familiar fear creeps in. Here I am standing with these people and I’m busy worrying what they’ll think of me.

“A few years ago I saw The Lion King,” I offer.

“Amazing!” she says enthusiastically. “What else have you seen?”

I take another sip of my wine and can feel it starting to take effect.

“I’ve seen Grease, The Sound of Music, and also Dirty Dancing, although that one was disappointing,” I answer.

“I know! It wasn’t great,” she agrees with me immediately.

“Yes, I felt like it was an unsuccessful attempt and it just didn’t work. They even tried talking like the actors in the movie,” I continue, and Ron tries to imitate Johnny’s famous sentence from the movie, “Nobody puts Baby in a corner”, but he messes it up, and the group bursts out laughing. I breathe a sigh of relief and smile.

“Oh, female movies! You’re so predictable!” A man holding a large glass of beer in his hand smiles at me. I don’t know who he is, but he looks nice and harmless.

“You aren’t that different from us, you just like to think you are,” I laugh.

“Really?” He’s still smiling.

“All things considered, men aren’t so sophisticated. You all like the same movies. Let’s see, Pulp Fiction?” I take a wild guess.

He smiles in agreement and I continue guessing.

“The Big Lebowski?”

He nods in again.

“And to wrap it up, I’ll guess you haven’t seen anything by Almodovar lately.” I smile at him triumphantly.

“Who?” he asks, and we all burst out laughing.

“Exactly my point.” I laugh and, just for a moment, I forget about Ben’s guarded smile, and the gorgeous girl who stood next to him.

“I see you’ve met Talia.” Danny appears and hugs me, smiling widely.

“Yes, you never said she was so lovely.” Ron smiles at me.

I blush and leave the group to continue with their enjoyable conversation. I wander away from them, find a small sofa in the corner of the room, and sit down. My back is toward the string quartet and my eyes are checking out all the men in their formal attire and the women in their beautiful evening dresses walking through the door.

“So this is where you’re hiding out,” a familiar voice whispers in my ear. My heart jumps slightly from excitement and I turn to him with a grin. My man has found me.

“Hi,” I say quietly. My entire body awakens, as always when he’s around.

“What’s wrong, don’t you like my party?” He straightens up and looks at me with that smile I love so much.

“No, it’s wonderful.” I smile back. His party really is wonderful. It’s just me and my moods.

“I’m glad to hear. Come, I want to introduce you to a few people.”

“Me?” I’m surprised. I thought we were supposed to pretend we hardly knew each other.

“Yes, you are Danny’s sister after all. My parents would love to meet you.”

Ah, Danny’s sister. Of course.

“Your parents are here?” I ask as I get up from the sofa and straighten my dress.

“My parents and my brothers, of course. This is my company’s annual party. They never miss it.” He offers me his arm, and I put my hand through it in the most casual way, trying to hide how nervous I am.

“Mum, meet Talia, Danny’s sister, remember I told you she’s here from Israel. Talia, meet Doris, my mum.” He formally introduces me to the group standing next to the quartet, and I’m reminded of his tattoo.

“Talia, lovely to finally meet you.” The groomed woman standing in front of me stretches out her hand and I shake it firmly, trying to make a good impression. Okay, this isn’t exactly how I imagined I would meet Ben’s mom. In my dreams, he takes me home and introduces me as his new girlfriend.

“Pleased to meet you,” I answer with a small and awkward smile, as I check her out. She’s wearing a floor-length, black gown. She’s tall, and I can see where Ben inherited his green eyes from. She’s slim, and her dress falls gently from her waist, hiding a pair of long legs.

“And this is my dad, Greg Storm.” I shake the older man’s hand.

Ben’s dad. He looks about sixty and he has black hair peppered with grey. He gives me a sweet, shy smile. His shyness reminds me of my dad and I’m overcome by a feeling of nostalgia.

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Storm.” I say, trying not to dwell on sad, old memories.

“And this is Myles and his wife, Naomi, and Gabriel and his wife, Lisa.” He introduces everyone to me and I realize the tall, beautiful woman is Naomi, Myles’ wife. I shake their hands, feeling uncomfortable with this completely weird situation. He’s introducing me to everyone as Danny’s little sister, and I’m thinking he knows me in so many other ways. I blush thinking about the nights we’ve spent together in his bed, naked and breathless.

Hey! Don’t think about that now. Not in front of his parents.

“Talia, what are you doing in London?” Ben’s dad asks with interest.

“Ben has been kind enough to employ me. I work with Sarah in Interior Design.” I smile self-consciously.

“Talia does all the field work, scouring the galleries for Sarah. I heard she’s doing a great job. You should see how she paints.” Ben surprises me when he tells them about my hobby in the basement.

“Really? What do you paint?” Ben’s mom gives me a big smile.

“It’s nothing really. Your kind son is exaggerating. It’s just a hobby.” I feel myself go red.

“Okay, now you’ve all met, I’ll take you back to Danny.” Ben smiles and I say goodbye to his family.

That was awkward.

“Miss Blum.” He lets go of my hand when we reach John and Danny, who are standing with the boisterous group.

“Mr. Storm,” I reply, smiling slightly. He walks away and I follow him with my eyes. He puts his hand in his pants pockets. His suit really is great and he looks so good in it. I turn back to Danny and John and listen to their conversation.

The music has been turned down and everyone turns to look at the small stage, next to the now silent string quartet. Ben is standing there in his gorgeous tuxedo, looking at the room. The hall falls silent.

“Guys.” He smiles and his face is shining. “We’ve had a great year, and this evening is my opportunity to thank each and every one of you for your efforts. This machine called Storm Buildings couldn’t exist without all of you. So for this evening, there’ll be no talking about attractive properties or colored plaster. This evening is all about having fun. Eat and drink, and you’d better be dancing because it’ll show up in your next pay slip,”

He laughs and the entire room laughs with him. He raises his glass.

“To all of you!” he shouts out, and the captive audience raises their glasses in the air. Shouts of toasts can be heard all over. It’s so impressive. He can enthrall the entire room with his smile and laugh. Nevertheless, my strange mood doesn’t leave me.

I miss him. I’d like to be far away from this pretense, somewhere where we can be just the two of us, with no masks, somewhere where I can hug him and breathe him in and pretend maybe it’s not just what it is.

The music starts again, and he disappears into the crowd.

I have to get out of here. I need a cigarette. I leave Danny’s protective embrace and slip out into the garden.

I’m cold and sad, but I don’t want to cry and smudge my damn makeup. I light a cigarette and try to get warm.

I hear the sound of an incoming message on my phone. Maybe Danny is looking for me. I take it out and look at it, surprised to see Ben has sent me a message.

Lady Islington? Fuck. I’m really not in the mood to meet anyone tonight. I think I’ve met enough people to last me the entire week. And where exactly is she waiting for me? Why is his message so cryptic? I send him a response.

I take another puff of my cigarette. As expected, my phone beeps again.

Lady Islington isn’t who I think she is, and she’s waiting for me? Ugh, what the hell is he playing at now? I put out my cigarette and enter the building. A young woman in a white jacket passes by me and I stop her. Maybe she’ll know what the hell he’s talking about.

“I’m looking for Lady Islington,” I ask nervously.

“Second floor. Take the elevator,” she answers me confidently and points at a small elevator.

She knows her as well?

I enter the elevator and press a button. Even the elevator here looks old-fashioned. The doors open after a few seconds, and I get out on the second floor, straight into a small space. I go to the door on my left and read the small sign:

“The Duchess of Newcastle.”

Wait a minute, the suites here have names? So, Lady Islington is actually…

I begin to smile. He isn’t serious. I walk down the narrow hallway to the first door on my right. I’ve found you, Lady Islington.

I knock on the door—my usual two knocks—and wait. My heart races, knowing what to expect.

The door opens and my man grins at me.

“Miss Blum,” he acknowledges.

“Mr. Storm,” I return his smile, trying to control the excitement coursing through me.

“Would you like to come in?” he asks playfully. What is he planning?

“More than you can imagine.” I smile and he moves aside to let me into the impressive suite.

A narrow hallway leads me to a room that is just as remarkable as the rest of the rooms in the building. In the center is a soft, inviting canopy bed covered with a dark, wine-colored fabric. A small, antique loveseat is in front of it. Every detail in the room, from the writing desk to the dressers flanking the bed, is designer pieces. For a moment I’m convinced I’m actually in a palace. I’m afraid to touch anything. As it is, my hands are shaking.

“Don’t you need to go back downstairs?” I inquire, as I stroke the soft velvet.

“Soon. They won’t know I’m gone.” He grins. “So how’s my party been until now?”

“Getting better by the minute.” I sit down on the bed smoothing the dark covering with my hand.

“You look amazing tonight,” he murmurs, as he sits on the designer chair next to the writing desk, far away from me.

Is there any reason why he’s not sitting next to me?

“Your family are very nice.”

“Yes, they thought you were lovely.” He cocks his head.

“And you? Do you think I’m lovely?” I want to know.

“I’ve known that for a long time.” He grins and then notices the look on my face. “What’s wrong, beautiful?”

“Nothing,” I answer laconically.

“You’re not kidding me. What’s the problem?”

“Nothing, I just had this conversation yesterday with John,” I explain.

“What did you talk about?” he asks persistently.

“Tom.” I look at him nervously.

“As far as I know, there is no Tom.” He’s amused. It’s not really funny.

“Maybe there should be.” I’m starting to feel agitated. Maybe I should find me a Tom, who’ll want me more than he does.

“Talia, what’s with this mood now all of a sudden?” He looks at me carefully.

Do I really want to do this now, here, tonight, when everyone we know is downstairs at his party?

“I just don’t understand you. You do all these amazing things; you bring me to this beautiful suite. Why do you bother, if all you want to do is sleep with me?”

“There you go again, looking for a meaning in everything.” Now he’s exasperated.

“I’m not looking for a meaning. You made it very clear I have nothing to look forward to.”

“What do you want? You want to know why this suite?”

“Yes.”

“Because my brothers are sleeping over at my house, and the club invited me to stay here for the night. Also, I didn’t want someone to come knocking on my door at an unreasonable hour when I wasn’t there.”

“Oh.” I swallow hard.

“Yes. Oh.” He rolls his eyes.

“Okay, so if all you wanted was to tell me not to come over tonight, you’ve said it. I think I’ll go now.” I get up, feeling annoyed.

“Fine. I thought you’d be happy to spend the night in this lavish suite, with the soft beddings and the inviting blankets…and with me,” he teases me.

“And why would you think that?” I scowl and roll my eyes. He totally takes me for granted and it’s perfectly obvious why. He gets up and comes closer to me and I can smell his aftershave as he pushes up against my back. My hairdo exposes my nape and he runs his finger lightly over my neck, it sends lightning through my body.

“I didn’t think…” he says in a low tone, “just hoped…” I turn to him mindlessly and kiss him passionately.

I want to stay. I really want to stay. He kisses me, his tongue exploring my mouth. His heart is pounding and his hand is on my nape when he pulls my mouth to his lips, biting and kissing.

“You drive me crazy,” he whispers, and I push myself into him. My hands are in his hair and I inhale him.

He pulls himself away quickly. His eyes are sparkling, shining in a thousand shades of green.

“I need to go back downstairs.”

“I’ll join you soon,” I whisper. He leaves and I sit back down on the bed, trying to calm my racing heart. I examine the luxurious suite again. I’m going to spend the night here, with my man. I could think of worse things than that.

I eventually get up, planning the excuse I’m going to give Danny in order to slip back here at the end of the evening.

“Where did you disappear to?” Danny smiles at me, letting me know just how many glasses of whiskey he’s had.

“I went for a smoke and walked around the building a bit.” I shrug.

I can see Ben coming our way.

“Danny, I’m taking your sister to dance,” he says politely. His smile seems to disappear when he’s next to Danny. I assume it’s because he doesn’t like lying to him all the time about us.

“Really?” I stammer in surprise.

“Yes, as I said, whoever doesn’t dance may see it in their next pay slip.” He gives me his hand and leads me onto the dance floor.

My legs are shaking. I swear everyone is looking at us and, even if they’re not, it feels that way. I put my hand in his large palm and he lifts it to his chest. The music starts to play. I recognize the song immediately, “Cheek to Cheek”.

This is unreal. My amazing man is dancing with me. He slips his hand around me and I can feel it on my waist, warm and embracing. My hand rests gently on his shoulder. A Hollywood movie. When I look up, I’m trapped in those green eyes. The room around us disappears. He really knows how to move…

We’re dancing close and I smile. I’m dreaming and I don’t want to wake up. I could dance like this, with him, until I die.

He smiles at me, his eyes shining. He confuses me. He smashes me into pieces every time, again and again.

“You look really lovely tonight,” he whispers in my ear.

“Thanks, you too,” I whisper back.

“I can’t wait for this party to be over.”

“You’re making me blush, and everyone is watching,” I say shyly.

I can feel his thumb caressing my back in small movements. In one second, someone’s going to notice.

“You’re playing with fire,” my voice shakes.

“I thought you liked my games, our games.” His voice is low and seductive, sending clear signals to every nerve in my body.

“I love your games. I’m just not sure this is the time or the place.” I’m still tense as his thumb continues with its small movements.

“We’re just dancing.” He tries to sound innocent, but we both know exactly what his hand is doing. I gaze into his eyes. I just want to get lost in them.

Take me away from here. I don’t care about this party. And I don’t care about all these people who are here. I just want to be with you.

“You’re crazy.” A slow smile creeps across my face.

“Definitely.” Ben grins back. The song is over, and he removes his hand from my back.

“Thanks for the dance.” He casually lets me go.

“Thank you,” I whisper and release my grip hesitantly from his hand. I’m going to get myself another glass of wine.

The evening passes uneventfully. I listen to Danny and John’s conversations with the people in the room. I can’t wait to steal away to Ben’s luxury suite.

“I’m going out to smoke a cigarette,” I tell Danny, who is busy chatting with Ron. I go out into the small garden, light up a cigarette, sit down on a chair, and try once more not to freeze.

My phone beeps—an incoming message.

I smile happily. My man is impatient.

We haven’t been together since Tuesday or Wednesday morning, a moment before I got dressed and left him running on the treadmill on his patio.

I put out my cigarette, feeling excited. I sneak into the lift, go up to the second floor, and am pleased to find the door is unlocked. I send a quick message to Danny.

He’ll never suspect.

After taking a long bath, I climb into bed and curl beneath the covers. It’s five minutes past midnight already.

How much longer is he planning on letting me wait?

Finally, I hear the door at the end of the hall open and recognize the familiar, slow strides. I turn on my side and smile. Ben comes into the room with a huge smile.

“Did you get rid of everyone?” I tease him.

“It wasn’t easy,” he admits with a grin, pulling on his bow tie. He unties it and then opens the first button on his shirt.

“Here, let me do that.” I get off the bed and stand in front of him, totally naked. He looks at me in surprise.

I undo his tuxedo button and pull the jacket back, leaning against him.

He buries his head in my hair.

“You smell so good.” I put his black jacket on the chair behind him and undo the buttons of his shirt one by one.

Slowly.

I’m in no hurry.

His chest starts heaving and I can feel his heart pounding.

I look up and smile at him, at his beautiful face, which I’m addicted to. I pull his shirt out of his pants.

“Cuff links,” I whisper, and he lifts both hands so that I can open the cuff links and put them on the writing desk. And then I pull his shirt and cling to him, until his arms slide out of the white sleeves. His smooth, golden chest is in front of me and I kiss it slowly. Ben groans.

Then I undo the button of his pants and bend down so that my ass sticks out tantalizingly.

“You’re killing me,” he groans and I smile to myself.

“Shoes,” I order. He lifts his foot and I pull off his shoe and remove his sock. I do the same with the other one.

I pull down his pants and underpants, bending all the way down to the floor. His erection springs out, right in front of my face. I stare up at him longingly and he looks down at me with scorching eyes. I look again at his big erection, wrap my mouth around it, and suck on it.

“Talia...” he moans.

His voice spurs me on.

I sit up on my knees and put him in my mouth again, sucking on him passionately. My tongue strokes him in intoxicating circles, moving to the tip, while covering my teeth with my lips.

Ben looks down at me and runs his fingers through my hair, which I had let loose in the bath, dictating the rhythm. In and out, sucking and stroking. My hand joins my mouth and I slide it over his erection each time my mouth leaves a space.

“Talia, I’m close…” he whispers.

But I don’t stop. I want to feel him. I want to give him everything.

His head goes back. His hands are in my hair, grasping my head and I take him in my mouth as deep as I can go, in and out. His moans get louder.

God, this is exciting. I’m so aroused from the pleasure I’m giving him.

He thrusts himself inside my mouth one last time and comes loudly, my name on his lips. A salty taste hits the back of my throat. I swallow every drop, then look up and meet his shiny, green eyes, which glow in amazement. His chest is heaving and he’s trying to catch his breath.

He reaches out to me. I stand up in front of him and he pushes me down on my back on the large bed and lies down next to me.

I’m extremely turned on. He leans into me and kisses me ardently. Without waiting, he puts his hand between my legs, pushing his finger into me, my back arches as I release a loud moan.

“I want to hear you,” he whispers into my ear and pulls out his finger. I groan as he pushes in again, finds the wonderful spot in my vagina, and massages it. I stretch my legs out to their fullest and squirm under his skilled finger, which is sending lightning bolts through my body. My nipples are hard as he kisses my lips and continues massaging rhythmically.

I’m so close, so quickly. What does this man do to me?

I moan loudly, at the intoxicating feeling building between my legs. His other hand finds my clitoris and his thumb massages it, applying the exact amount of pressure. He’s on me and inside of me and the feeling is amazing. My body is addicted.

“Scream...” he whispers in my ear, and I come, screaming, arching my back, shattering into a million pieces.

We’re lying in bed, facing each other. Ben’s hand is stroking my cheek, his finger moving over my lips.

“Your mouth…” he mumbles in a rumbling voice that gives me goosebumps.

“That was…exciting,” I grin. It was exciting. And I loved every second of it.

“Yeah.” He’s staring at my lips.

I caress his arms and move my fingers over his now-familiar tattoo.

“I still can’t believe you tattooed your mother’s name on your arm.”

He laughs sweetly. “What can I say, I’m a mummy’s boy.”

“Really?”

“Apparently. Youngest child and all that,” he replies, lifting his eyes to mine. I love the way he looks at me.

“Where are your parents staying?”

“At The Cumberland. My mum likes it there.”

“Do you tell her everything?” I ask. I love these conversations of ours.

“My mum? Yes, almost everything.”

“Almost?” I continue looking at him.

“There are certain things she doesn’t need to know.”

“For example, about me,” I whisper.

“Yes, she doesn’t need to know about you.” His hand is in my hair and he twirls a curl around his finger.

“Does she know about Jenny?” I allow myself to mention her name, not quite sure what response I’ll get.

“She got it out of me in a matter of seconds.” His gaze is focused on his finger playing with my hair. He doesn’t look at me. But he’s talking—about her.

“What did she do?” I’m still whispering.

“Showed up here.”

“Really?” I’m unable to hide my surprise. She just left everything and came here?

“Yes, she could hear something wrong in my voice over the phone,” he says, his voice starting to shake.

“So what did she do?”

“She was here for me.”

“That’s it?”

“What else could she have done? That’s all I needed—for her to listen to me.” He’s still speaking softly, but he’s talking to me. He’s finally sharing. And I’m silent, unwilling to disturb his thoughts.

“It was…” He takes a deep breath and I can hear the pain in his voice, “shattering. I was helpless and angry. I was so angry…”

I can hardly imagine it. It sounds too terrible.

“I was confused. One minute I was going to be a dad, and the next, Jenny was packing a bag and leaving me…” He’s searching for the words, his voice unsteady. “Broken…”

Something shatters in me. I just want to comfort him. He’s still hurting, after all this time.

“You’re lucky.” I think how different our mothers are. His mother dropped everything and came to him, and my mother…

I try to push away the terrible choking feeling in my throat. This evening is too perfect for me to cry.

“Why?” He sees the pain in my eyes.

“Your mother was here for you. My mother and I will never have that kind of relationship.” I’m trying not to break down.

“It’s never too late.”

“In our case I’m not too sure that’s true.” I close my eyes for a moment and take a deep breath in an attempt to calm the damn choking feeling. Then I open them and look directly into Ben’s warm eyes.

“Why do you say that?” His hand hasn’t stopped caressing my cheek, which makes it even harder for me not to cry.

“Because she was never there for me.”

“Talia…” he whispers.

“It’s not that bad. I’m used to it. It doesn’t hurt anymore. I’m not as angry about it as I used to be.”

“You used to be angry?”

“Once. I used to fight for her attention. I used to do crazy things just to let her know how much I needed her.”

“Your scars?” His voice is unsteady when he says the words.

My scars.

“Yes.”

“It didn’t help?”

“No, she never understood or she didn’t care. It was always about her image, what the neighbors would think, or hoping no one found out. Which, of course, only made me act out even more.”

“In the end you ran off to London.”

“I moved away from her. I gave up. At least I can count on Danny,” I murmur painfully.

“So do you two not speak?”

“Not really.”

“Maybe you should call her. She must be missing you.”

I roll my eyes and chuckle bitterly. “You can’t be further from the truth.”

“Talia, you must be wrong,” he says in disbelief.

“Believe me, I’m not. The distance does us good. This way she’s not busy worrying about what people will say. If we speak, she’ll just hurt me again.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. She’ll find a way.” I take a deep breath. My mother will always find a way.

“Beautiful,” he whispers, and his fingers caress my lips.

“I love it when you call me that,” I smile happily. Even if he constantly tells me this is all it is, it’s fine by me.

“You really are beautiful, even though you don’t see it.” He smiles, and I put my finger on his lips.

“Enough talking. Now kiss me.”

“What are you thinking about?” He smiles at me. We’re lying under a blanket; my head is on his chest and I can hear his heart beating.

“Actually, I’m thinking that with all your surprises, I don’t even have a toothbrush here or a change of clothing.”

“Let’s see,” he chuckles, “I’m sure that in a place like this it won’t be a problem to find you a toothbrush. Actually, I’m pretty sure there’s one in the glass next to the sink in the bathroom.” He continues, “And as for a change of clothing, I don’t think you’ll be needing clothes tonight…”

I look up at him. He seems carefree, unlike myself. Everything worries me.

“I love your surprises,” I whisper, looking straight into his eyes.

“I love surprising you.” He smiles warmly. “And stop worrying about everything, okay? We have fun together and that’s all that matters.”

I smile slightly. Yes, we have fun together. We have fun and enjoy ourselves and it’s exciting and thrilling, but is that all that really matters?

“Now let’s get some sleep.”

I open my eyes and turn to my side. Ben is sleeping next to me and I peek at the clock. It’s ten thirty in the morning. I don’t know if it’s due to all the alcohol we drank or to the late hour we went to sleep, but we slept in. I reach out with my finger and carefully move it over his gorgeous cheekbones. He turns on his side, facing me, and opens his eyes.

“Hi.” I smile.

“Hi. Did you sleep well?” he asks and I nod. I finally slept, no tossing and turning. I just listened to him breathing and fell asleep in his arms. The soft bed and sheets are so wonderful that I could fall asleep again, but I know I’ll have to say goodbye to him soon.

“What were you thinking of doing today?” He looks at me curiously. “I mean, before I seduced you into sleeping with me until noon.” He laughs.

“First of all, it’s not noon yet,” I laugh back. “And as for your question, I was planning on going to the park with my laptop and a book and leaving the house to my men.”

“Sounds like fun.” He smiles, as I continue staring into his eyes. “Can I come with you?”

“Come where?” I frown.

“To the park. My parents and brothers left this morning and I don’t have any special plans.”

He wants to come with me? To the park? Why? What happened to “it is what it is”?

“I won’t be such good company,” I utter. Why does he want to come with me?

“Come on, I have nothing planned. What time should I wait for you at the gate?”

Okay, is he serious? Because I’m starting to imagine things that will never happen.

“If you insist. But I’m warning you, I plan on reading and writing, so no ideas.”

“Sounds perfect. Now come to the shower.”

He gets up and I study his naked body. God help me, he’s so gorgeous. He picks up the phone and, without asking me, orders us breakfast.

“Are you coming?” He throws me a naughty smile.

“Yes.” I get out of bed and he lets me pass. I get in the shower first and turn on the water. The water pressure is strong and hot. He gets in and turns his back to me. I take the soap and lather his solid back, my fingers caressing his golden muscles. And then I cling to him and my hands go to his chest. It’s smooth and soft and feels wonderful under the water and the soap. I can feel every sculptured muscle as I let my hands slide all the way down his stomach. I love his stomach. My fingers slide down his thighs and he leans his head back. It’s intoxicating knowing just how pleasurable my touch is to him. My fingers climb toward his erection and I grasp it, slowly sliding my hand up and down. I can hear him breathing faster and I press against him, pushing my breasts into his back. My other hand moves over his thigh.

God, it’s such a turn-on. My heart races as I continue stroking his erection leisurely, increasing the pace and the pressure. He puts both hands on the wall in front of him and leans forward.

“You drive me mad,” he groans.

“And you love it,” I answer in a quiet, confident voice.

My hand moves over his entire length, circling it. I listen to his body’s reactions. His breathing becomes louder and he’s groaning unashamedly. A tingle goes up my thighs and my clit comes alive. I pick up the pace, concentrating on his thick length between my fingers, faster and faster, up and down, and then, suddenly, he spins around and turns me so my back is to him. I stretch out my hands and place them against the wall as he spreads my legs and plunges into me.

God!

I moan loudly. He pulls out slowly and then enters me again, deep and filling. I moan, throwing my head back with closed eyes. He grabs my hips with his hands and starts working up a stronger and faster pace, and I moan every time he slams into me.

“I could listen to you moaning all day,” he whispers in my ear, and his words set me free. His loud breathing in my ear excites me and I can sense how close he is. He slams in and out, more and more, his hands grasping my hips, pulling me to him. I stand on my toes like a ballerina, stretching my legs and he penetrates me deeply. I’m so close, I lean my head back on his shoulder as he thrusts into me. I come with a shout and he follows me, coming inside me, his hips stuttering.

My legs can’t hold me up and I lose my balance. He catches me when I fall and holds me, as I lean with my hands against the wall, trying to catch my breath. I am dizzy and weak. I haven’t eaten anything since noon yesterday. Jam and toast. My body is protesting, sending out clear signals. Luckily, Ben was here to catch me just before I fell.

We get out of the shower. I wrap my body in a large towel and my hair up in a smaller one. Ben dries himself off and wraps the towel around his waist, stealing unhappy looks my way.

I go into the room and a loud knock at the door startles me.

“That must be breakfast.” He goes to open the door and returns with a full food cart.

“You went a bit overboard.” I look at the cart in amazement.

“It’s an English breakfast.” He pushes the cart close to the bed, pulls out a chair, and sits next to it. We’re both still wrapped up in towels. I sit down on the bed. Ben takes the lid off a full plate: bacon, omelet, grilled tomatoes, and sausages. I can see a basket of toast and croissants on the cart, butter and jams, fruit salad, juice, coffee, and tea.

“What happened in the shower?” he questions his eyes stare at my face.

“What are you talking about?” I feign innocence. I know exactly what happened, and it wasn’t the first time.

“After you came. When was the last time you ate anything?”

“Yesterday…”

“You almost fainted.” He’s angry.

“If I almost fainted, it was because of you,” I say saucily in a desperate attempt to change the direction of the conversation.

“I’d love to think that’s the case, but we both know it isn’t. Please don’t try and joke about it.”

“Are you going to ruin our entire day?” I complain.

“Talia, I’m serious, what would have happened if I wasn’t there?”

“I would have found myself on the floor and got myself up, hoping I didn’t break a tooth,” I answer cynically.

“Has this happened to you before? Fainting in the shower?” He seems shocked.

“Yes, and I’m not going to talk to you about it. One of the drawbacks of not being my boyfriend,” I protest. “Now, your food is getting cold.”

He glares at me.

“You’re lucky I’m starving.” He grabs a fork and sticks it into his omelet. “What are you eating?”

This pisses me off tremendously. We’ve done this before—at the restaurant. I know there’s no point in arguing with him, certainly not after what happened in the shower.

“What are you eating?” he repeats the question, staring at me seriously. I look at the cart, take the bowl of fruit salad, and stick a fork into a perfectly cut cube of orange.

Ben demolishes the omelet and takes big bites of the toast while I eat the fruit in total silence.

Ben finishes eating and wipes his mouth with the white serviette, which has a silver crocodile embroidered on it.

“Do you want coffee?” he notices the white pot on the cart.

“Um, I don’t want to insult anyone, but that isn’t coffee.” I try smiling unsuccessfully.

“So what would you like to drink?” he asks. The atmosphere between us is tense and there’s no point in pretending.

“I’ll buy a coffee at Pret a Manger on Oxford Street.”

“You’ll go to Pret a Manger wearing that dress, just for coffee?” He grimaces.

“Okay, maybe I’ll change my clothes first.”

“Okay.”

“Now that I’ve eaten, do you still want to meet me at the park, or have you had enough of my problems for one day?” I stare at him, wondering if he still wants to spend the day with me.

“What do you say we both go and change clothes and meet in an hour at Pret?” he offers.

“Sounds perfect,” I agree. We get up and put on our evening attire again. Ben passes on the tie and jacket and sticks his shirt into his pants. God, he looks good.

I put on my dress and shoes.

“How are you getting home?” I ask, as Ben closes the door of the suite behind us and presses the elevator. I feel stupid going out into the street dressed like this and taking the tube. I hope I have money in my purse.

“In a cab. I’ll let you off next to the house.” He doesn’t look at me. He’s still troubled about what happened in the shower.

“Okay, and while you’re changing clothes, change your mood as well,” I snap.

Ben is waiting for me outside my favorite coffee shop. He’s wearing a faded pair of jeans, a white T-shirt, which clings to his chest, those Adidas shoes I love, and is carrying a small backpack on his back. He looks like a student on a break between classes, and I smile to myself.

“Hi, sorry I’m late. Have you been waiting a long time?” I feel bad. I didn’t think I was late. Maybe he was early?

I’m wearing dark blue skinny jeans and my favorite oversized shirt, which falls off my shoulders, and I have on my flats.

“No, I arrived just this minute.”

We go inside and I order my regular coffee. Ben takes a bottle of freshly squeezed orange juice from the fridge and insists on paying.

“I really can afford it.” I cock my head with a smile.

“I know. I sign your paycheck, remember?” He smiles good-naturedly and we leave the coffee shop, cross the road, and enter the park.

We stroll through the pathways. Squirrels dash around the trees and ducks cross our path. I drink my coffee and we enjoy the quiet.

“I hope you’ve turned off your phone. I don’t want any interruptions while I’m enjoying myself at the park.” I smile and steal a glance at Ben through my sunglasses.

“I turned it off. I don’t want any interruptions, either.” He smiles, not looking my way.

Ben leads the way, clasping my hand gently and walking on the grass, until we’re standing in the shadow of one of the huge oak trees. He opens his bag, pulls out a thin blanket, and spreads it.

He’s amazing. Has he thought of everything?

“Let’s sit.” He straightens the blanket and I take off my shoes and sit down cross-legged. He settles next to me, then lies down, resting his head on my thigh. He looks up at me and our eyes meet. Ah, be still, my poor heart.

“You see, this is what I consider a perfect outing.” He smiles and closes his eyes. I stroke his head peacefully, a happy smile on my lips. It is what it is? Because it certainly feels like something else.

“Your family came all the way from the north.”

“Yeah.” His face lights up, showing just how close he is to them.

“Your parents are very nice,” I continue. “Your mother looks very lively and your father…” I fall silent.

“And my father?” He opens his eyes and looks at me solemnly.

“Your father reminds me of mine.”

“You miss your father,” he says, without taking his eyes off me.

“Sometimes.” My voice starts to shake. “But I think Danny misses him more.”

“Weren’t you close?”

“Just toward the end.” I stare resolutely at the pathway, trying to focus on something besides those green eyes, which might make me cry. “If I’d known he was going to go…”

“Was it sudden?”

“A heart attack. One minute he was here, and the next he was gone. It was a long time before I felt his absence,” I continue. This man, who doesn’t want to be my boyfriend, has conversations with me that I’ve never had with anyone else—not with my mother, not with Danny, and certainly not with any of the men I’ve known.

“Really?” My response surprises him.

“Yes.” I shrug slightly, my hand still caressing his head. “I wasn’t living at home and I hadn’t bothered visiting for some time, and then I got the damn phone call.”

“Talia,” he says, pain in his voice, his hand caressing my cheek. I close my eyes for a second, letting my thoughts go back to that evening. I open them and refocus on the pathway.

“I was just watching television and drinking coffee, alone, in my apartment in Tel Aviv. The phone rang. Danny was on the line. The second he said my name, I knew something was wrong. But I never would’ve guessed what he was going to tell me.” My voice chokes. I really don’t want to cry. “And he said, ‘kiddo, I have some bad news’. I remember my heart pounding. And then he just said dad had a heart attack and nothing could be done, or something like that. I can’t remember his exact words. I blacked out after that.”

Ben looks at me his eyes so soft my heart squeezes.

“Did you go home immediately?” he almost whispers.

“No, it was really late. I went the following morning.” I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “I asked a close friend to come and stay with me. I wanted to sort out my thoughts before dealing with my mother. It was a long night, with lots of crying and cigarettes and coffee.” My eyes mist up as I look down at Ben.

“And Danny?”

“Danny was so close to him.” It hurts so much when I think of that week, when we sat shiva. Danny was destroyed, and all I wanted was for it to be over so I could run back to Tel Aviv. “I think a hole as big as a football field opened up in his heart. It was a terrible vacuum. For me it was just another day of not speaking to my dad. Almost a month passed before it started sinking in.”

“Sweetheart…” His hand is warm and gentle on my face, and one brave tear breaks through all my barriers and falls down my cheek. Ben wipes it away with his thumb.

“I think that’s why Danny worries about me so much. He feels responsible, because dad isn’t here and my mother isn’t exactly fit to look out for me. The opposite of your mother, I think.” I sigh quietly.

“My parents really are amazing.” He caresses my cheek again. “And I really don’t want you to cry.”

He pulls himself up toward me and kisses me on the lips. “I’m sorry about your father,” he comforts me.

“Me too. And I really don’t want to cry, either.” I manage a smile into his green eyes and their pained look is replaced by one of relief. He doesn’t like it when I’m hurting. He doesn’t like it when I cry. He rests his head again on my thigh.

“Okay, what book did you bring?” he asks with interest.

“Harry Potter.” My smile widens.

“Really?” he asks in surprise.

“Yes.”

I saw the books on his shelf. I know what my man likes. And, to be honest, I’ve also read all seven of them more than once. During one of my outings to Camden, I bought a copy, and it turned out to be a smart decision.

“You like Harry Potter?” He finds it hard to believe.

“What’s there not to like? Magicians, explosions, and good fighting evil?”

“I can’t believe it.” He’s amused. “I grew up on Harry Potter. The first book came out when I was thirteen. I can’t believe that’s what you brought. Which one did you choose?”

“The first one. I haven’t read it for a while. I thought we’d start at the beginning.” I smile triumphantly.

“You knew,” he looks at me teasingly, “that I liked Harry Potter.”

“The books on your shelf are tattered enough to give you away.”

“You keep surprising me.” He’s enchanted. “Great. We’ll start from the beginning. Now read to me.” He closes his eyes, and I take the thick book out of the bag and start reading out aloud.

As I sit on the sofa in the basement at nine in the evening, I try to go over the events of the day. My heart races, refusing to calm down. The shower, the annoying conversation that followed, the blanket on the grass, talking about my father, reading Harry Potter to Ben while he rested his head on my thigh, his eyes closed, escaping to a world of magicians, curses, and big, dark wars. My man listened to my voice, which sent him back to the age of thirteen. And he looked so content.

I read for two hours straight. We didn’t budge from that blanket. And when we got up Ben looked at me with bright, confusing eyes before he said goodbye to me with a peck on the cheek. I took the tube home and he went for a walk in the park.

Later on I made supper for Danny and John, both of whom wanted to know how my day with Tom was and I made up some convincing, but make-believe, story. However, my thoughts were far away, thinking of the man with his bright eyes, who I had left in the park. It is what it is. He’s not changing his mantra.