He tries to smile, but it only lasts a second. “Rough day.”
“How was the nanny’s first day?”
“Fine,” he says, “but I’m withholding final judgment after what’s been happening with these little troublemakers.” He tips his head toward my shop. “Can I talk to you a minute?”
My belly flutters with uncharacteristic nerves. “Of course.”
“Be right back,” Ben tells Violet. “Finish up so we can head home.”
“Okay.”
I lead the way into the shop, concerned over Ben’s state of mind. Before I can turn to face him, he wraps his arms around me from behind and drags me up against his body. When he uses his foot to ease the door closed, his face is already pressed against my neck.
Joy and desire swim through my veins. I wrap my hand back and around his neck, slide my fingers into his hair, and lift his head enough to get my mouth on his. He sinks in with a moan and kisses me like I’m his salvation. His hips rock against me, his arms hold me tight, and he tastes me in a way that lightens my head.
He finally breaks the kiss and drops his forehead to my shoulder. “Fuck, I miss you.”
The confession touches my heart like a whisper. “I’ve seen you every day for almost a week.”
He lifts his head, expression serious, gaze still a little hollow. “I want to talk to you in bed, fall asleep with you, wake up with you.”
Then he sighs and strokes my hair, his gaze distant. I see his desires as those of a man who wants to be married. There may be talking in bed together in our future, but in a few months, it will be by phone or video. There will be very little falling asleep or waking up together. The first shadow of guilt darkens my heart, and I wonder if he would be happy with the arrangement we’ve talked about or hollowed by it. I also wonder if I’ll be limiting him, keeping him from a woman who could love him the way he wants. But he’s been alone for three years, something that had nothing to do with me.
I remind myself he’s a big boy and he can make his own choices.
“What happened today?” I ask.
He shakes his head once. His eyes close, and he leans his forehead against my temple. “Lost two patients.”
His pain is palpable, and I turn in his arms. “I’m sorry.”
“There wasn’t anything I could do.” He meets my gaze again, and I wonder if death is something someone as compassionate as Ben could ever get used to. “Just reminds me how short life is. I want to tell the girls about us so we can spend more time together. Real time, not pretending time.”
This feels like an abrupt change in the direction we’ve been headed.
“And I want to tell my family,” he goes on. “Because I want to ask my sister to watch the kids for a weekend so you and I can go away. Have it be just the two of us for a change.”
“Ben, what’s going on?”
“I’ve seen you every day for almost a week, and I love it. I love coming home to the house with all of you laughing, I love how animated the girls are when you’re around. I just fucking love the light you bring into our lives, and I really want more of it. Opening up to everyone will give us more time to be together and less to worry about.”
I tip my head, considering. This feels like a need for Ben, not a want, and that scares me a little. Thrills me a little too. My father was the last person who ever needed me. And this longing that’s cropped up might be trying to tell me I need Ben too.
“I just heard from a friend,” I tell him. “Someone in my circle of sailing acquaintances. He’s in Santa Barbara and says he may have a lead on a cat for us. Said he was going to ask around to see if there are any for sale. What do you think about taking the girls to Santa Barbara to look at boats? We can tell Violet about the sailing lessons.” I shrug. “Then we can decide if it’s a good time to tell them about us. And if that goes well, we can move on to your family. Then we can talk about a weekend away.”
Which will give me some time to get used to the idea, because right now, it’s a little hard to breathe. This may not seem like a big deal to anyone else, but this is the furthest down this relationship road I’ve ever been, and I can’t lie, it’s a little on the terrifying side.
I watch his attention shift from the tight, intense focus on me, to a wider, softer focus of the trip and the girls. He smiles, nods, kisses me. “Great idea.”
My lungs release. I can breathe easy again.
18
Ben
“True or false,” I say, glancing at my three girls in the rearview mirror. “A baby has more bones than an adult.”
Kat, sitting in the passenger’s seat frowns, then turns to look at the girls. They seem to all agree with a glance and chorus, “False.”