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A rush of adrenaline hits my system at the words. Do they mean he’s willing to try? “I don’t either. But we can figure it out together.”
His eyes close again, and I take a deep breath. It’s time for me to say the words I came here to say.
“You’ve told me over and over that I changed you, Ben. But what I’ve never said is that I feel the same. You can’t understand what it’s like to be a woman my age, faced with life and choices and the enormity of it all on my own. My family isn’t rich or well-educated or even particularly interested in what I do. I have to make all my own decisions, and it’s fucking terrifying. Around every corner is a new decision and there’s no one to help. If I choose wrong, I fail at life. But then I met you. And sure, you questioned some of my decisions at first, but it never stopped you from treating me like a whole person. After a while, I started to realize that it wasn’t my decisions at all that were driving my self-worth. It was something else. Something innately me. You practically said as much when you told me that the women you usually date are doctors and lawyers or whatever. And you chose me anyway. It couldn’t be my life path, it had to just be me. Somehow, I was good enough, just for being me. As soon as I realized you seem to think that, I wondered if maybe I could think it too.”
My voice is raising but Ben doesn’t look nervously around like I would if an overenthusiastic woman was ranting at me. He watches me with rapt attention.
“And I might have made the worst decision of my life choosing to keep something so important from you. Choosing to lead you on and lie to you. But by the time you found out, I had already learned that my decisions didn’t create my self-worth. It was separate. I could still like and love and believe in myself even after I made that mistake. And so that was the choice I made. And it’s the choice I’m asking you to make.”
His eyes meet mine, and I see nothing but questions there.
I panic.
“I know this is a lot to put on you at once. You don’t have to give me an answer right now.” I pull my hands back, icy cold with the loss of his touch, and clasp them nervously in front of me. “We can just start slow. I’ll go, and you can think about this, and…” I trail off, unsure of what to say.
“You’ll go where?”
I lock eyes with him once more, biting my lip. “I’ll go home. Back to my apartment.”
“Which is where?”
“Brooklyn.”
Ben grimaces and I laugh. “This isn’t the eighties, Ben. Brooklyn is very nice.”
“I’m just imagining the nice Brooklyn apartment you’re paying for with your Pilates salary.” He looks up at me, narrowing his eyes. “Unless Ainsley is paying for it.”
I roll my eyes. “He’s not paying for it. And it’s okay. It’s fine,” I add quickly when he balks. “I can take care of myself. I’m perfectly safe.”
“Says the woman who gets off on danger and fear.”
My face spreads into a smile at his mention of our intimate past. Maybe this isn’t such a lost cause after all. “Why don’t you come over and see for yourself how safe it is.”
His face twists into an evil grin. “If you mean you want to lock yourself in your apartment and see if I can break in, I think that’s a game best played at my house where there’s no risk of me getting arrested.”
His words suck the air right out of me. I blink a few times in shocked silence before I can get a single word out. “Okay,” I say.
Ben leans back in the booth, eyes locked on mine. He still looks exhausted, but at least he’s holding his head up now. His eyes carry questions, uncertainty, but he doesn't look like he’s about to bolt. I hold his gaze and wait patiently.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity but is probably only a minute or two, he looks away and reaches into his pocket to draw out his phone. “It’s probably best for me to check out this apartment. I’ll call my car.”
I smile. “Not driving yourself around, huh?”
He sniffs out a laugh and shakes his head, tapping on the phone screen. “I have to draw the line somewhere.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Victoria
Ben follows me up all five flights of stairs. I can feel his body heat close to mine. A few times, his hand grazes mine on the handrail. By the time I unlock the door, I'm on fire with need for him.
But I can’t rush this. I told him we could take it as slow as he needs. I asked him to trust me. I have to let him come around in his own time. The fact that he’s standing here with me right now is a great sign.
He walks right into the center of the small, single room and spins in place with his hands on hips. I hit the lights and toss my bag onto the wooden chair just inside the door. Ben walks over to the window and looks out before examining the lock. He then walks to the door that I just closed and examines those locks as well, locking and unlocking each one and trying the door to make sure it doesn’t open.
When he seems to be satisfied, he turns to where I stand, leaning against the wall in my tiny kitchen and nods. “You’re right. It’s okay.”
I hold in a smile at the way he seems to be taking care of me, but as soon as the thought crosses my mind, it turns a bit sad. I suppose he’s always been taking care of me. I think back to the food that appeared in his fridge when I started coming over. The cream and sugar. The way he drove me to the helicopter that was always waiting for me when I needed to leave. How he took me in with no question when my house flooded.
