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"Sometimes passion shows itself in weird ways. Maybe this is their kind of foreplay," I offer, even though I'm sick of the thought.
"Yuck," Laura gags.
Dax fingers the potential of an empty easel, offering a stoic, “All of my relationships have been like that. It's all about the passion. They don't love you unless they're throwing things at you."
We both stare at Dax, then turn back to each other. “Who is he? Where is he from?”
“Ben? He’s Rachel and Jaxson’s son. Remember he said he had one?”
“His only son,” I whisper, recalling the shuttle ride, which seems like days ago rather than a few hours. “ I thought he meant a little kid. Preteens. How old are they?"
"Have to be in their sixties.”
"They look really good."
"Not as good as their son," Laura smirks.
I sigh, “He's absolutely gorgeous.” I love a man in a Henley shirt but his was bursting at the seams. Considering the fact that his father is so muscular I have to wonder if it’s in his genes. If not, he’s gotta be at the gym every day. I can't imagine how a guy can look like that without the daily lifting of elephants, or something equally heavy. While his body is jawdrop-worthy, his eyes are what trapped me. Dark green and pained. He wouldn't stop frowning the whole time he was at the table, just glaring at his food like it had insulted him. I had the insane urge to hug him. To hold him for a very very long time. I'm thinking about this when I tell Laura, “I really wish we'd gone outside to the porch instead."
New Hampshire grins, “Let's do it."
"We can't!"
"I paid for a private room. I am entitled to a private show!"
In the main room crème brûlée is beautifully spread out with delicate, lavender tea cups adorning each place setting. Two matching tea pots keep the water pitchers company, and our group’s remaining members — Sylvia, Marco, Maggie, Pete, Steven, and the Brooklyn girls — all patiently wait for everyone to join them. Tension heavy in the air. Conversation nil. We say nothing and pass right by them for the door. Sylvia calls after us, but we walk outside anyway. Sometimes it's better to apologize than ask permission.
"You never liked me!" Shelby is pointing at his parents, both flanking their son. They’re standing on the gravel path just passed the porch. At hearing somebody behind them, all three Cockers look back. Instantly I regret our decision. Ben locks on to me, full rage in those intense green eyes of his. His attention gets arrested by Shelby practically shouting, "I was married to your son and you never even gave me a chance!"
Jaxson says with authority, “That's not true,” as Rachel approaches us, “Ladies, did I forget dessert? My apologies.”
Polite yet firm. There’s no arguing with her. Her quiet power is mesmerizing. My mom would be freaking out were she in this scenario. She’d be having what used to be called ‘a fit of the vapors.’ I love her, but she hates a scene. Embarrassment, she feels, is the worst. I think life is a ride with all kinds of twists and turns — embrace it. Rachel’s reaction to all of this is grace and dignity.
Oh, didn’t Jaxson say she’d lived in New York? Probably has seen far worse than this outburst. The one time I was in Manhattan I experienced enough street-shouting to last me a lifetime.
Shelby’s tone changes to victim, "Why aren't you inviting me for dessert? What did I ever do to you? I paid for my stay. You have to let me inside."
Ben says, “Come on Shelby, let's go home."
Why is my chest this tight! We haven’t even spoken to each other, save for saying our names and then hello. Forcing myself to keep walking, I rue the moment I hit ‘confirm’ and booked this trip. There's some thing about him that has my emotions tangled up.
At first I thought…
It doesn’t matter what I thought.
He’s married.
Rachel smiles as we return to the group, “I'm terribly sorry. It's a family matter that should never have interrupted your time here. But I am sure that’s the end of it. There will be no more interruptions such as that.”
Rachel and Sylvia exchange a glance as Rachel sits and commences with the desert experience by asking everyone to take their turns sharing what they hope to experience here. Distracted by my racing thoughts, I take a bite and close my eyes its so delicious.
Maggie asks, “Should we wait for Jaxson?”
“No, he won’t be returning tonight.”
My gaze falls to where Ben was sitting, an emptiness filling me. He’s taken her home. What are they doing there? Was all of that foreplay? And just like that, regardless of my usual sweet-tooth, I’ve lost my appetite.
ELEVEN
