“I have the money. Let me.”
She stared into her coffee cup. She wasn’t eating much. He wondered if she felt as sick as he did.
“I have to see him anyway. He’s good friends with Matt. He’ll be at the wedding.” She tried to smile. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll call him, and that’s better, right? It’s more grown up. So nobody feels uncomfortable or anything.”
Ben imagined May making nice with a good-looking Viking in a tux who’d as much as told the whole world there was something wrong with her. A man who’d proposed to her with words so offensive that she’d stabbed him for it.
He tried to set his fork down, but it hit the plate with a clatter, skittered along the countertop, and landed on the floor.
Don’t be like that, he wanted to say. Be the way you are with me.
He had no right to tell her how to be. Nothing but the feeblest kind of hold over her. He just couldn’t stand the idea of releasing it. Not if she would go back to a life so circumscribed and not-May.
And yet he knew there was no way he could hold her. They’d agreed that this was a break for her, a vacation from reality, and even if they wanted to make it real—if May wanted to leave her life with Dan and make a life with him, somehow—he couldn’t imagine what that would look like.
He had to focus on his goals. Find an apartment. Calm himself down, put himself back together so he could be ready for that restaurant and maybe, someday, for May. Or for someone like her.
Even though there wasn’t anybody like May.
“Ben?”
Her eyes were soft with concern, unhurt by the sudden stiffness in his posture. Unafraid of falling forks or his flailing feelings.
He wanted her with him for a few days longer. This May. This one without fear, who told him what she wanted. This May who’d put her soft pink mouth around his cock when he was still knocked flat from their first round of sex last night. Who’d driven him crazy with her fingers and her tongue and her gentle, teasing questions.
Like this, Ben? Here?
He wanted her. He wanted that her.
The words emerged from his mouth at almost the same instant the idea came to him. “I’ll drive you home.”
“You …” May blinked. “What?”
“If I drive you, you don’t even have to worry about the plane ticket.”
“You have to move out, right? Isn’t Alec coming back?”
He looked around the apartment. He’d forgotten. “Most of this is Alec’s. If you give me a few hours, I can pack, and we can put my stuff in the van, or in the storage at Figs if there’s too much. Cecily won’t care.”
“It’s—it’s far,” she said. She hadn’t stopped frowning. “It’s a long drive.”
“How long?”
“I don’t know. Let me check.”
She crossed to the couch and grabbed the open laptop. Her fingers clattered over the keyboard, and then she leaned in to read. “Sixteen hours?”
“Two days.”
Her face came up from the screen, and she met his eyes. “Four days, for you. There and back. I can’t ask you to—”
“You didn’t ask. I offered.”
“Yeah, but you’ve got the bees and the garden. Plus, don’t you kind of hate Wisconsin? You said—”
“The garden will be fine, and the bees can survive on their own for a lot longer than four days.” He stepped closer. “I can handle a few hours inside the borders of Wisconsin. And anyway, you don’t need to think about whether I really want to drive you or why I’m offering. All you need to decide is whether you want to spend two more days with me.”
As soon as he’d said the words, he regretted them. Because what if she didn’t? She could hardly say no now without being rude.