The water I’d set to boil on the stove was about to brim over the edge of the pot when I heard three hard and familiar knocks on my front door. I turned the heat down to medium and set the box of bowtie pasta on the kitchen island. I’d only gotten home from work about twenty minutes ago, enough time to pour myself a glass of wine and decide that I was going to stress eat an entire box of pasta. My heels clicked across the hardwood floor of my living room as I made my way to the door. Seeing his face, having his hands on my body, even if it was only for five minutes, made the carbs I’d planned to over consume almost unnecessary.
He was everything that was sexy and masculine standing in his gray tailored travel suit. His shoulders filled the doorway, his clean scent mixed with the humid, slightly chilled Florida winter air and, as I inhaled it, the stress of what I had to face next week vanished.
“Hey,” he said with the smile that always seemed to send the butterflies in my stomach into a whirling frenzied flight. He stepped over the threshold and into the house, leaning down, kissing my lips gently, pulling away, and then dipping in again for another. We probably would’ve stood in the entryway, door slung open and making out if Atlas hadn’t whined. A reminder of why I was lucky to have Mark stop by before catching his flight to Buffalo.
I laughed, scrubbing my hand over the top of Atlas’s huge head. “He misses you already.”
Mark shut the door before he dropped the leash to the floor and Atlas trotted toward the kitchen dragging it behind him, most likely, looking for the food and water dishes I set out for him on occasions such as this.
“Thanks for watching him.” Mark’s fingers threaded into my hair as he cradled the back of my head, his thumbs resting on my jaw.
“I don’t mind. You should know that by now. I’ve got the little fella handled.”
Mark’s mouth broke into a crooked smile. “You know, he told me he hates it when you call him, Little Fella.”
I puffed out a laugh. “Oh, he did?”
“Yeah, I think he prefers Big Guy, Stud, something less emasculating.” I tried to argue, to tell him I was being ironical by calling his Great Dane “Little Fella,” but he kissed me instead. He kissed me until he groaned again. “I hate long road trips.”
After Mark and I had gotten back from our L.A. weekend in October, we’d been able to balance our relationship pretty well. The road trips sucked and, the longer we were together, the harder it got to say goodbye. I loved watching Atlas because it was like I had a piece of Mark with me while he was gone.
“Me too, but we still have New Hampshire.” I pressed my mouth to his, softly dragging out the moment, and he lowered his hands to my hips. “Do you think it will snow?” I asked.
He hummed against my lips. “My mom said she’s already got a foot or more this past week.”
His mom. I licked my lips, my nerves bubbling in my stomach. Mark invited me to go home with him for Christmas, and as excited as I was, I was also teetering on the brink of panic with a side dish of scared-as-hell. Meeting the parents was big. “Monumental” according to Reagan. His sister Molly and I were almost the same age. I’d gotten over my insecurities about our seven-year age difference after I realized Mark and I, when it came to maturity levels, were right on par. He was smart and had a great head on his shoulders. He ran his career impeccably, worked hard, and treated me like a queen. But I worried what his mother thought about the age difference, if she was protective over her son after what Mia had done to him, if she’d think I was dating him because of his money, or if she wanted grandkids I’d never provide. We’d only been dating since October, and Christmas was almost two weeks away. We hadn’t been together long enough for her to be thinking about grandkids, right?
Mark’s chuckle pulled me from my downward spiral. “Stop overthinking.”
He squeezed his grip on my hips, and I ran my hands up his chest, the smooth fabric of his shirt fit snug across the muscles. “You don’t even know what I was thinking about.”
He lifted one incredulous brow in challenge. A challenge he won every time. Mark knew what I was thinking. He always did. I’d fallen for the fact the man read me like an open book. Ben never had… My smile dimmed. Ben. He’d be here on Tuesday. Suddenly, I was craving carbs again and the opened bottle of wine on my kitchen counter.
He tipped my chin up with his finger. His light brown eyes were serious as he said, “My family is harmless. I promise.”
He was talking about his family, but my mood had digressed for other reasons. Reasons he hated to talk about. It was after the same trip to L.A. when I’d told Mark about Ben coming to town to help out with the audit. At first, he was understanding. I’d told him I didn’t have to work with Ben one-on-one. I think it helped that Mark had sensed how much I really didn’t want Ben here, but after I’d mentioned he’d be here for three whole months, he’d gone silent. I’d watched with anxiety as the emotions moved across his features. Irritation, anger, jealousy.
We’d been at his place, standing in his kitchen, when I’d wrapped my arms around his waist, set my cheek on his chest and said, “Ben is my past.” He’d rested one of his big palms on the middle of my back, the other holding my head. I knew Mark better now, and his silence that night was his way of processing. We’ve had a few disagreements since then, and I’d seen him get into it with Bryson enough to know, when Mark went quiet, it meant he needed a minute. He wasn’t a guy who went off on a yelling spree, and he wasn’t like Ben, analytically deconstructing every possible reason for why the argument happened in the first place. No, Mark was purely passionate, in everything, so when he went inside himself, he was really pissed off. Looking back, though, he’d handled it well, even if he never mentioned it again.
Right before a road trip probably wasn’t the best time to remind him that my ex-husband would be here next week, but I wanted to always be honest with him. He deserved that, and maybe my distaste for the entire situation could give him some peace of mind while he was away. I sucked in a breath for strength as I met his cinnamon-colored eyes.
“I’m nervous to meet your family, but I’m excited to spend some time with you, away from here, away from work.” Mark didn’t miss the way I emphasized the word work, the pulse in his jaw was almost undetectable. But having spent almost all of my free time with him, his tells had become more apparent. In any other situation, I might’ve smiled. I was able to read him as well as he was able to read me. “Ben will be here Tuesday. That’s four days. How is it already that time?”
Time sped by too quickly when I was tangled in Mark’s arms. My life before, my time with my ex, it had been an eternity. Being with Mark was like riding in a speeding car. Every moment, every curve was fast. Touch, and kisses, and feeling. We had to fight for our minutes. We used each second we were gifted with to the max. We owned the furious sound of the clock because we had no other choice. Our time together was limited, so we made it precious.
“Tuesday.” He sighed, dropping his hands and pushing them into his pockets.
I nodded. “Hurry home, alright?”
I slipped my arms around his neck and kissed him. The firm set of his lips gave way to the softness of my own. He’d recently trimmed his beard, and when I kissed the smooth dip of his bottom lip, he relaxed completely. The hands I craved rested on either side of my neck, and I tipped my head back, letting him deepen our kiss. A quiet beep sounded and a growl rumbled in his throat. I recognized the sound of the alarm he’d set on his watch so he’d never be late to the bus or to a flight.
He rested his forehead against mine, tugging a strand of my hair between his thumb and fingers. “I hate that he’s going to see you more than I get to.”
His honesty hung in the air between us and my heart beat twice, hard and slow, before it dropped into my stomach. Mark pressed a kiss between my furrowed brow and my throat clogged. Our relationship had settled into a comfortable pattern, like a pair of brand-new shoes, we’d begun to wear each other in. Sure, I didn’t like it when he was gone, but I usually dealt with it and moved on. But there was no mistaking the way my throat ached and tapered as the heat of his kiss evaporated from my skin. I didn’t want to spend more time with Ben than I did with Mark. Ben had already stolen enough of my heartbeats. I hated that Mark wasn’t going to be home until late Tuesday night, and I’d have to deal with my first day with the ex on my own. I hated that Ben was swooping into my new life and screwing everything up. My nostrils flared as I fought the sudden wave of sadness.
“I have to go,” he said, and I wanted to pull myself against him, keep him here with me.
My arms fell to my sides and the need to reach out to him sent a weird tingling sensation to my fingertips. “For the record…” I forced a smile. “I hate it, too.”
The front door had shut with a slow click after he’d kissed me goodbye one last time, the feel of him lingered on my lips, the sound of Atlas’s nails clack, clack, clacking on the hardwood did nothing to slow my breathing. Each breath was painful, scorching my lungs as I pressed my back to the front door, and for the first time since Mark and I had become a couple, I cried. Hot tears spilled down my cheeks as Atlas licked my hand. I sputtered out a watery laugh and sank to the floor. I was usually so good about not missing him too much.
Atlas plopped his large body on top of my thighs. “We can do this,” I declared as I wiped my fingers over my cheeks. Atlas’s tail thumped back and forth against the floor. “We do it all the time.” I assured myself and it was true.
I’d actually told my mom the other day I thought the road trips were a good thing. We hadn’t even been together three months, and maybe the distance was healthy, and the whole “absence makes the heart grow fonder business” worked for us. When Mark and I were together, we never stopped touching, and when we were apart, his absence became an exposed nerve.
I allowed myself and Atlas the right to mope for five more minutes before I stood up. Atlas yawned as I pulled my arms behind my back, stretching out my muscles. “Should we eat our feelings, Little Fella?”
His expression was eager, and I thought to myself, Mark had it all wrong. Atlas loved his nickname. “Come on.”
I’d settled into my third glass of wine, a belly full of food and happiness when my phone rang. The name on the screen surprised me. I accepted the call and his voice turned the two bowls of pasta I’d eaten into a brick inside my stomach.
“Hello,” I said and wished I’d spoken with a bit more strength.
“It’s good to hear your voice.”
We hadn’t spoken at all after Ben had gone back to Richmond, and I didn’t know how to respond. His voice was familiar and yet awkward in so many ways. The silence was only interrupted by the sound of his breathing. My words caught in my throat.
“How are you?” he asked.
“Good…” I found my voice. “Really good, and you?”
“I’m…” His stiff chuckle had guilt vining its way around my lungs. “I’m okay.”
He exhaled a rough sigh, the sound spilled memories through the phone, and I closed my eyes. I could picture him in our old kitchen, sitting on the metal bar stool, his thick brows creased with frustration as I told him I was leaving, told him I didn’t know him anymore, told him I felt so alone. Was he finally feeling it too, the emptiness I’d worn for so long?
“Listen… I wanted to call… I wanted to let you know I was flying in Monday night.”
“Monday,” I said, more to myself than as a confirmation.
“Yeah, and I was wondering, if you wanted to get dinner?”
“Ben, I—”
“I don’t want…” Another painful-sounding sigh. “We used to be… Stevie, I don’t want to avoid you for three months. Friends, right? Isn’t that what you said?”
Friends who never spoke. Friends who felt like strangers now.
I opened my eyes and tried to infuse a smile into my tone. “You don’t have to avoid me, Ben.”
“Okay.”
“This is hard for me, too.”
“I know,” he said, the two words as coarse as gravel. “I almost told Trent no.”
“He told me.”
“He did?” Ben laughed, and the tension unlatched its hold on my muscles.
“Yeah, I think he likes me better than you. I bring him donuts on Wednesdays,” I teased.
“I’ll have to remember that.” Silence fell again, and I heard him swallow before he asked, “Have dinner with me… for old times’ sake?”
“I’m seeing someone.”
“The hockey guy?”
“His name is Mark.”
“It’s not a date, Stevie.” The way he said my name, like I was a five-year-old, dredged up the past and left a sour taste on my tongue.
“I know, but maybe another time. It’s an adjustment… having you here. Things are… different.”
“Different,” he repeated.
I rested my palm against my forehead and took a deep breath. “Let’s get through Tuesday and we’ll see.”
I tried not to feel guilty for saying, get through, but I had to be real, had to set the boundaries. Ben had always been good at managing my feelings away like they didn’t matter. I wouldn’t let him do that to me again.
“I’ll see you Tuesday, then.”
We both hung up without saying goodbye and I stared at my phone. Atlas nudged my elbow with his cold nose. Bulldozing his massive head onto my lap. I opened my text messages, Ben’s call withering away my good mood, and typed out a message to the only person who could make me smile right now. His phone was most likely turned off, his flight to Buffalo had left an hour ago, but I swiped my fingers across the screen anyway.
ME: I miss you.
ME: A lot.
I wasn’t needy by nature, and I hoped my messages didn’t make him feel bad. Being away was part of his job, and I was on board for the ride. On some nights, though, especially tonight, it was harder to find my inner cheerleader. Pulling up my big girl pants, I typed out one last text, my lips breaking into the first genuine smile I’d had since Mark had walked out my front door today.
ME: One more thing…
ME: Atlas said you’re a liar, he loves his nickname.