Page 74 of Resisting the Fall

Penny looked affronted by my blatant offense. “You and Nana have to come too.”

“We might be a little snug, but there’s enough room,” Ben said.

Mom smiled. “I’m good with whatever.”

Of course she was.

Penny’s pout was absolute perfection. “Please, Aunt Maven.”

“Okay,” I said, accepting my fate. Honestly, it was ridiculous to have thought I could show up at the game without Ben spotting me. But, since the opportunity had presented itself, I might as well get through the conversation we desperately needed to have. Boundaries and expectations were going to be essential over the next three weeks. “Since I didn’t get dinner yet, I was going to check out the snack shack real quick. Does anyone want anything?”

Mom and Carson shook their heads, but Penny nodded. “Can I get a pretzel with cheese?”

“You’ve got it.” My gaze landed on Ben. “Want anything? Because if so, you could come with me.”

Ben grinned at my poorly executed attempt. “I feel like I’m supposed to say yes. So… yes?”

I barely resisted rolling my eyes. “We’ll meet you over by the Walkers,” I said to my family.

Starting down the stairs a good way ahead of Ben, I waited until we made it off the bleachers, where most of Autumn Ridge couldn’t see us, before turning to face him. “I only came back to Autumn Ridge because I’d forgotten that I promised Penny I would be at the game. And the barn raising. I couldn’t disappoint her.”

“I’ll have to thank her later.”

I pinned Ben with a look, ignoring the way my body wanted to betray me with one hint of a flirtatious comment. “Since you won’t let us change our divorce case to New York, I think it’d be best if we just follow Judge Rost’s court order exactly as it’s written—one brief weekly experience and shared meals digitally. That’s it. Nothing more. Well, besides the final marriage counseling session next Monday.”

Ben gave a slow nod. “What about the seventy-two-hour period we’re supposed to spend together? This might be a good weekend to get that over with since you’re in town anyway.”

“She said it was strongly encouraged but optional, so I think we go the optional route.”

Ben shrugged. “If you think it won’t matter, that’s fine with me. I would just hate to get to the hearing and have that be the thing that stops Judge Rost from finalizing the divorce.”

I let out a huff of frustration. He had a point. I had no idea what optional meant to Judge Rost, but it wouldn’t surprise me if it was less of the we-didn’t-need-to-do-it meaning of the word and more of the if-we-didn’t-select-that-option-we’d-fail-her-test-and-remain-married-for-an-indefinite-amount-of-time-while-she-went-through-our-case-with-a-fine-tooth-comb variety of optional. And the fact that she had added the stipulation during our last hearing made it all the more likely. That woman was turning out to be the bane of my existence. Right along with Ben.

“How about instead of seventy-two hours consecutively, we do seventy-two hours collectively over the next several days?” If I made the next round of auditions for the New York Philharmonic, it likely wouldn’t be held for another three to four weeks; and I had nothing else on my calendar currently, so a few more days in Autumn Ridge to knock out this seventy-two-hour provision made the most sense. “Judge Rost seemed okay with us modifying the requirements for our specific needs, as long as we did it in good faith.”

“I’m assuming you mean we won’t be capitalizing on all of those hours of sleep?”

“It’s probably best if I stay at my mom’s.”

Ben’s grin was all the confirmation I needed. He knew exactly why I didn’t want to stay at his place—because I didn’t trust myself around him. Which was definitely concerning.

“The futon in the office is really comfortable,” I said before he could voice his conclusion aloud.

“Probably a lot more comfortable than my expensive king-sized mattress I custom built a frame for in my trailer.” He stepped closer and leaned in, his voice lowering. “Though I suppose you wouldn’t need to share the futon.”

My pulse quickened, and I gestured with a thumb over my shoulder. “We should probably get those snacks. I bet Penny’s wondering where her pretzel is.”

Ben kept aggravatingly close to me as we made our way to the concession stand. “Have you heard whether you made it to the next round of auditions?”

“No, and I likely won’t for a couple of weeks. The orchestra is leaving on a European tour. Jean-Paul said they’d hoped to complete the third round of auditions beforehand, but it didn’t happen, so I’ll just keep practicing like I made it until I hear otherwise.”

“You felt it went well, though?”

I gave a small shrug. “I thought so, but I also thought that last time.”

He nudged his shoulder into me. “I bet you’ll make the next round.”

“One can hope.” I looked over the list of menu items. There wasn’t much in the way of actual food, but of the available options, nachos definitely sounded the best.