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He stands and walks over until he’s chest to chest with me, looking down as I look up. “I mean, I told her that I was your boyfriend. Not that I like the term, but it’ll do for now.”
“What makes you think that you can just walk in here and proclaim yourself my boyfriend? Isn’t that something we need to discuss? You never even asked. I didn’t know if I would ever see you again.”
Ben sighs and nods. “I’m sorry about that.”
I bite my lip and wait in silence, not trusting myself to speak. I know for sure if I opened my mouth, a sob might escape. Or possibly a scream.
After a long, heated stare, he surprises me once more by dropping to his knee on the wood floor of the lobby. He takes one of my hands in both of his and holds it up to his lips. Eyes locked, he smiles. “Victoria, will you be my girlfriend or possibly another word we come up with together?”
I can’t help but laugh…and cry. “Are you proposing dating to me right now?”
Ben looks sheepish, but only for a heartbeat. His confident expression returns in force. He knows he has me, but he’s still willing to defend his decision. I’ve never felt so special. “I fucked up. I never should have walked away on Merit, and I definitely shouldn’t have walked away from you the other day. Can you forgive me?”
Tears blur my vision but I don’t look away. “It’s you who’s supposed to be forgiving me.”
“I forgive you. Do you forgive me?”
I nod.
“And you’ll come home with me and live in my house?”
My eyebrows go sky high, but I nod again.
The relief is obvious on Ben’s face. “Thank god. I wasn’t sure how I was going to flood a fifth story apartment in Brooklyn, but I would have tried.”
My surprised laugh is loud, echoing through the quiet lobby.
“If you’re all finished here, my car’s waiting out front.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Victoria
Ben’s house is almost exactly how I pictured it.
Old world exterior of gray and red brick, immaculate landscaping, and windows with white shutters. There’s even a damn turret.
The inside is like walking into a near future sci-fi film. The house unlocks with his fingerprint and greets us with slowly illuminating warm lights. I glance around to see the outside of the home reflected in the antique looking dark wood furniture and parquet floors. The effect is softened with modern touches that speak instantly of Ben—bold modern art prints and athletic shoes on a rack.
I marvel at all the space. The seemingly never-ending hallways leading off in all directions. I thought the Merit house was big, but that was a dollhouse in comparison.
“Why do you live in such a huge house?”
Ben turns after hanging his jacket in the entry way closet and reaches for mine with a shrug. “I’ve never really thought about it. My grandparents built it, and it was my parents’ after that. I inherited it when they passed, and it just seemed right to move here.”
Wow. “So, you’ve lived here your whole life?”
He smiles and comes over to take my hand, leading me down the hallway into the kitchen. “Not exactly. I grew up here, but I moved to Boston for college and had an apartment there. When I got married, I was still in grad school, so we stayed in Massachusetts. It wasn’t until about ten years ago that my father passed, and I took over the estate. Ainsley and I lived in an apartment in Manhattan, close to the firm, before we moved here.”
He sits me down on a stool at a high eating bar with a marble counter and walks over to the massive stainless-steel refrigerator.“You know,” he starts, looking around, “it seemed so natural to move here, I never really gave it much thought. But I guess Ains and I were city boys at that point. And the estate is in the city, but it’s not like our apartment in Manhattan. Moving here was a big transition for both of us, and a hard one for Ains with the school change and all that. But it never occurred to me that not coming home was a decision I could have made.”
It's just a taste of the man’s past and I want more. “And your wife?” He’s never brought her up, but somehow I get the feeling it’s okay to ask.
Ben’s back is to me as he stands at the fridge and he’s quiet for a while as he digs out supplies. Turning back to me, eggs and veggies in hand, he smiles. “Hungry?”
I nod. “Always.”
I watch him get out the pan and start chopping. After a few moments, he answers my question.
