No Strings

I wake to Ben staring down at me, his features marred by a deep V in the middle of his brows.

“I was worried about you. What are you doing in bed?”

I glance around, taking in my surroundings. “How did you get in here?”

“Brianne. She let me in on her way out.” She was still asleep when I decided to stay home, so I didn’t tell her, not wanting to wake her up. “You didn’t show up at the gym this morning. You okay?”

I think about his question for a moment… Am I okay? Physically, yes… Emotionally, not so much. But how do I explain that to him?

No, Ben, I’m not okay. Remember when we had unprotected sex? Well, I didn’t get pregnant, and now I’m heartbroken. That’s one way to push him away. Hell, if I told him that, he’d probably run the other way.

When I don’t answer right away, lost in my head and heart, he sits on the edge of the bed and tips my chin up so I’m forced to look at him. “What’s wrong, Sav?”

“I’m not feeling well. I’m…” I take a deep breath. “My period started, and I have bad cramps.”

He nods once, then dips down to kiss my forehead. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“It’s okay,” I mutter. “Only the first day is bad. I took pain pills and—”

His eyes lock with mine. “Not about that.”

I was already on the verge of crying all morning, so his words—the fact he’s apologizing I’m not pregnant when he should be throwing a party—push me over the ledge. Hot, fat tears well up, blurring my vision, and then spill over, sliding down my cheeks.

“Hey,” he coos, sliding his thumb across my cheek to swipe a tear away before he stands, kicks his shoes off, and then climbs onto the bed next to me—still dressed to the nines in his business suit.

He pulls the blanket off me, envelops me in his arms, and then throws it back over us. I nuzzle my face into him, and in his warmth and comfort, allow myself to cry.

He doesn’t say a word the entire time, just rubs circles on my back and holds me tight while I cry for the baby I want and may never get. For the family I never had and crave. For the love I desire and wonder if I’ll ever truly experience.

When I’ve cried all the tears and have calmed down enough to think rationally, I tense up, embarrassed I’ve just spent who knows how long crying on Ben’s shoulder—literally.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble into his chest. “This isn’t what you signed up for.”

His thumb and forefinger pinch my chin, lifting my face so I’m looking at him. “Maybe not, but there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

His words confuse me, but I’m too exhausted—mentally and physically—to ask him what he means, so instead, I just nod once and slide out of his arms. “I need to use the restroom.”

I spend several minutes in there, using the bathroom, taking some pain pills, and washing my face, and once I feel like I’m halfway decent, I go back out. My bed is empty, and I find Ben in the living room talking on his phone.

“I won’t be in today. Grab the permits on my desk and have a courier drop them off.” He pauses to listen to whatever is being said on the other line, and then he says, “Yes.” Another pause. “Perfect, thanks. Only call if it’s an emergency.”

Without so much as a goodbye, he hangs up and glances over at me. “You okay?”

I shrug. “I will be. Who was that?” I nod toward his phone as he’s putting it back into his pocket.

“Lenora.” His assistant. Bless her heart, I don’t know how she’s worked for him as long as she has. “She sounded a bit too happy when I told her I won’t be in today,” he says dryly.

I snort a laugh. “She probably needs a break from seeing your grumpy ass every day.”

Ben glares. “I’m not grumpy. It’s called running a business.”

I roll my eyes. “You are totally grumpy. That day I ran into you during your meeting, you were all growly. If I were working for you, I would’ve quit after the first day.”

Ben stalks forward, and shocking the hell out of me, he scoops me into his arms bridal style, walking us back to my bed. “I bet I could convince you to stay.” He sets me down and crawls over me, his muscular arms framing my head.

“And how would you do that?” I breathe.

“I can be very persuasive.” He drops a kiss to the side of my neck.

“Oh, really?” I turn my face to the side, giving him access. “And what would you do to persuade me?”

He runs his tongue across my pulse point, then nibbles playfully on the skin above my collarbone. “For starters, I would buy you coffee. The vanilla latte mocha frappe shit you love.”