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“Your son?” I ask. The moment of truth. If he knows, he’ll tell me now.
“Yes, Ainsley. He’s been on a bit of a break. A gap year that’s turning into two. And I’m trying to get him back on track, but it’s proving to be more challenging than I expected.”
This is news to me. I thought Ainsley was the golden boy, traveling endlessly with his father’s credit cards, not a care in the world. “He doesn’t want to go to college?”
“He does,” Ben snaps quickly, and then softens and shakes his head with a sigh. “I mean, he’ll go. He’s just taking a more roundabout way to get there.”
“Maybe what he wants in life isn’t at college.”
“That’s not an option. College is where adulthood begins. He can do what he wants with his life after he graduates.”
“Can he, though?”
“What do you mean?”
I’m overstepping here, but I can’t stop myself. “Do you think this need you feel to control his life is just going to evaporate when they hand him a diploma? Somehow, I don't think that’s the case.”
Ben lets out another sigh and leans back in his chair. He runs his hand through his hair and suddenly, he just looks exhausted. “I just want the best for him.”
I shake my head. “What makes you think you know what’s best? It’s his life. He’s the only one who can know which choices are right for him.”
Ben doesn’t argue, even though I hit straight at the core of his statement. He just shakes his head. “Young people just don’t understand how hard life can be. All I want is for him, for you, for all young people, to just give themselves a chance at a steady, comfortable future. To look at more long-term goals, rather than chasing after instant gratification.”
It’s my turn to shake my head. “Your rich son is going to be fine no matter what. If you really cared about the future of us ‘young people’,” I do air quotes as I try to keep the attitude from overtaking my tone but it’s a lost cause, “you’d be working toward scholarships and programs to help less privileged youth go to college. Not continuing to pay for a seat in class that your son clearly doesn't want.”
“You’re right. I should probably do that,” he relents, looking as tired as ever yet somehow just as handsome. “I just can’t let it go. Let him go.”
I nod in understanding, even though I don’t understand at all. More than anything, I’m just terrified to speak. This conversation is not exactly what I was expecting when I was pretending to be a princess on the helicopter ride over. As a matter of fact, I feel a bit like a child now, waiting for instructions from my father.
Not the sexiest feeling I’ve ever had.
“Well, you sure know how to make a girl feel like a ridiculous teenager who’s throwing away her life.” I turn back to my plate. At least the food is good. Maybe I'll head back to the helipad after I’m done eating and hope the pilot takes pity on me.
Ben sighs and crosses his arms. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have put this on you. That wasn’t my intention.”
I look up from my plate and narrow my eyes at him. “It wasn’t your intention to drag me over here and hold a one-man intervention about my career choices? I’m sorry to inform you that?—”
“I know, I know. It got out of hand. I’m just not used to…the women in my world are all very…” He struggles to find words and I do nothing to help him, making myself a loaded cheese and jam cracker without even glancing up. “Settled. They’re all lawyers, for the most part. Or doctors or engineers or consultants.”
“That’s the kind of woman you like?” The words burn my chest on the way out, but what’s the point in not saying them? This isn’t a real thing between us for so many reasons. May as well let Ben think it’s one of his reasons that’s the death knell.
“Do you see any of those women here?”
I roll my eyes without looking up. It’s a sweet thing to say—or is it? This man is confusing as hell. “Those are the kind of women you respect, though. Not young exercise teachers who dropped out of college.”
My eyes dare to dart up from my food, and I find him watching me with such intensity that I have to look away. I kind of thought I was being dismissed here, but once again I'm not sure what’s going on.
“With women like that, the women in my world, in the city, I feel even more boxed in than I already do. Like I’m a character in the story of my New York law firm, and they expect me to play a certain part. My life there is already so rigid. I have an ironclad schedule. I have the exact same standing grocery order delivered from Whole Foods each week. I have the same suits made again and again. I just go through the motions of my life like a train on a track. The few times I’ve been set up with women in that world, all I've been able to see are years and years of the same thing spread out before me. Repeating the same day over and over until I’m dead.”
My mouth opens when he finishes his surprising little speech, but I can’t think of what to say, so I just suck in a breath and hold his intense gaze. It’s not long before I’m rewarded—or punished—with the exact words I hadn’t even known I wanted to hear.
“With you, it’s different. These last few days, I’ve felt more than I've felt in years. I’m having fun. I laugh.” He laughs softly as if surprised by the words. “I feel wild, like I've been released from my cage. I've never acted like this, never felt like this. And it’s you giving me this freedom, I know it is. You have this quiet self-assurance about you. As if you don’t care what I think. And you haven't already decided what kind of man I am. You don’t have a box for me to fit in that says lawyer or potential husband, or anything like that. I feel like I get to watch you create each moment from scratch, and it’s fascinating. And terrifying. And intriguing. I can’t help but want to be around you. I want what you have for myself, even though I know that’s impossible. Forgive my incessant need to shove you inside a box that I understand. Know that it comes from a place of fear on my part. Fear of what will happen if I stay outside my own box for too long.”
The silence that falls is heavy. I can hardly breathe and can't tear my eyes away from my plate. Far too scared to see the expression that goes with an admission like that. After too long of a moment, I do look up, and find him watching me. Our eyes dance around each other for a few seconds, speaking volumes without saying a word.
Finally, Ben must resign himself to the fact that I’m not going to respond because his face softens and he stands, holding out his hand.
“I brought you over today for a reason. Are you finished?” He motions to the feast on the table that I’ve only just begun to explore.
