Page 165 of Until the Last Star Fades

“Hi Ben.” Her voice cracked as she spoke his name.

“What the hell—c’mere, gorgeous!” He clambered out from behind the table, removing the barrier between them. “My Hope!” Wrapping his arms around her waist, Ben lifted her up.

Riley clutched his shoulders, the feel of him flooding her heart with bittersweet joy.

“I can’t believe I’m actually holding you. I just…oh, bollocks, just kiss me, Hope!” He held her tight and pressed his lips to hers. She reciprocated, but her body language signaled the kiss would go no further.

I can’t…not until I know what’s going on.

Ben set her down and Riley let go, his happy demeanor fading as he sensed something was wrong. “So, I’m completely gobsmacked…and confused, too.” He chuckled nervously, his hands falling from her waist. They aimlessly flitted along the knotted belt of his apron. “Yesterday you were texting about delays on the Staten Island Ferry and now you’re here! Did you just arrive?”

“No, Wednesday.”

“Wednesday?” His forehead creased.

“I texted you from work, from the BBC.”

“What?” His face wavered between a smile and a frown. “They changed their minds?”

“No, it was mine all along.” Riley bit her cheek.

“So, why’d you…fib?”

She winced. “I wanted to surprise you…but after St. Patrick’s Day, I didn’t know if this was a good idea.” She looked away. “I still don’t…”

“Why?” Ben tilted his head, trying to meet her eyes. “Riles, what’s happened?”

He’s asking ME? The fucking nerve. Her nose began to tickle. Hold it together. “Funny you say that…I was going to ask you the same thing.”

A customer stopped at Ben’s table and glanced around, searching for assistance.

Shit. I knew I shouldn’t have come.

“Fuck,” Ben uttered under his breath, rubbing his chin with his forearm. “Riley, sorry—just gimme…” He smiled tightly at the man and slipped back behind his table.

Fighting tears, Riley stared at her boots until, one raspberry cake slice and four brownie sales later, Ben’s undivided attention was hers again.

He reached out to her. “Riley, let’s—”

“No.” I can’t wait any longer. “What were you afraid to tell me on St. Patrick’s Day?”

Avoiding her gaze, he hugged his stomach and ducked his head like he was bracing himself.

“That wasn’t the drink talking, Ben! You were upset, and not about some cat biting you or the Waterstones course—it was like you needed a brewery’s worth of liquid courage to speak to me.” Her jaw and shoulders tensed.

He slowly nodded and chewed his bottom lip.

“You kept apologizing, saying you were lonely, that it was a mistake to move in with Spencer…and then you asked me to forgive you.” She gulped for breath. “You said Mom wouldn’t forgive you.” Eyes damp with tears, she whispered, “So, what did you do, Ben? Did you sleep with Spencer?”

“What?” He looked up, meeting her eyes again, his dark lashes blinking rapidly. “Riley.” He raised his hands to cup her face but remembered his food-service gloves and peeled them off, his face softening into an uneasy grin. “Spencer’s a university friend. She’s like a sister to me.” He dropped the gloves on his table. “I swear, we’ve never snogged or slept together. That would be…weird.”

Never? “But…what about New Year’s, you and her on FaceTime…”

“Ohhh, that!” He scrunched his nose. “That was me, acting up a storm. I was playing her boyfriend to save her from a handsy bloke for the millionth time. It’s something we first did back in uni—she asked Mark and me to help her get rid of some loser in the students’ union bar. Mark already had his arm around some girl. Me, on the other hand…” He scratched his chin. “I can’t just stand there and do nothing, but you knew that, right…?”

The tension in her body eased slightly. “I feel like such an idiot.”

“Don’t.” He smiled. “But is it wrong that I find it hot—you being jealous?”