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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - EMILY
Like the gentleman he is, Ben dropped me off at my apartment after our date, the memory of our searing kiss scorched into my brain. We sat for nearly an hour in his pavilion, staring at the city lights, his hand rubbing my bare shoulders. It was both the most relaxing and most romantic date I have ever had. Now, days later, the diamond on my finger is not feeling as heavy, and I find myself wearing it more and more. I slip it from my finger and place it in my jewelry box before walking back to the kitchen. The dirty breakfast dishes do not need the extra sparkle this morning.
After our date, pictures started appearing online. I am not identifiable in any of them, luckily, due to the soft restaurant lighting and the semi-private table we had. Even if I was, here in the suburbs, no one expects a schoolteacher to be engaged to one of the city's most eligible bachelors. While my life hasn’t really changed, I know Ben is getting hounded.
“Mom! Have you got my goggles?” Rosie yells from the bedroom as I am cleaning our breakfast dishes in the kitchen. It is our usual Saturday morning ritual, which consists of a lazy breakfast of chocolate chip pancakes before I take Rosie to the public pool for a swimming lesson.
“Yes, Rosie, I have them in the bag already,” I reply as I hear her getting her swimsuit on. I wipe my hands on the towel as my cell phone pings with an incoming message. I am surprised to see it is from Ben, and I swipe to view.
Ben: How do you take your coffee?
Emily: Good morning to you too, Neanderthal.
Ben: I’m at Starbucks around the corner. I’m bringing you coffee.
My body stills. Ben is supposed to meet us at the pool, not come here to pick me up.
Ben: ??? Coffee order please, Doubtfire. I’m holding up the line here.
Me: Caffè Misto
I type back quickly before throwing my phone onto the dining table and rushing to my bathroom to ensure I don’t look like the exhausted mother I am.
“Rosie, we are expecting a visitor,” I yell to her so she isn’t startled when the doorbell rings.
“Who, Mommy?” she asks, and I look around the door to her, my sweet, sweet girl. I step into her room and take her hand, walking her to the bed, and we sit on the edge next to each other. She looks just like me when I was young, and I am so glad she got none of her father’s traits. I pray it stays that way.
“Mr. Rothschild is coming here so we can all go to swimming together today, rather than meeting us there,” I say, holding my breath, wondering what she will say. We don’t have visitors. Aside from George and the girls, no one comes here.
“Oh goodie! I can read him the rest of Cinderella!” she exclaims happily as she starts patting the bed, searching for the book in question. I leave her to it and quickly pick up a few items from the floor, brushing my fingers through my hair as the doorbell rings.
“He’s here!” Rosie practically yells, grabbing her small walking cane and following me to the door. Apparently, Ben has a way with all females, not just me.
I open the door, and he is standing tall in the doorway, holding two coffees. Looking freshly showered, he’s wearing a navy Henley top that shows all his defining muscles and blue jeans. He looks even better in casual clothes, and my hand grips on to the door so my knees don’t give way and I don’t fall into a heap on the floor. My eyes travel up and down his well-defined chest, then his strong shoulders, before resting on his Cheshire cat grin.
“Good morning, Doubtfire,” he says as he passes me a coffee.
“Doubtfire? Who is Doubtfire, Mommy?” Rosie pipes up from behind my legs, and I see Ben's eyes widen slightly, shock evident on his face.
“Rosie, come and say good morning to Mr. Rothschild.” I take her hand and lead her next to me and in front of him. This should be interesting. His surprise visit unearthed my secret, So I’m not sure what to expect. I stand rigid in the doorway, waiting for him to make an excuse and leave.
“Hi, Mr. Rothschild!” Rosie says merrily, looking as cute as pie in two ponytails, standing next to me.
“Ahhh…” Ben starts, and I see his eyes flick back to me and then take in my apartment behind us. His face has paled slightly, and his eyes look panicked.
“Hi, Rosie,” he says, looking at me, his eyes questioning. “You live here?” Ben asks my daughter but looks right at me.
“Sure, I do. Just me and Mommy,” she says innocently, and I’m feeling sick that I didn’t tell him earlier.
“Just you and Mommy?” he asks, his gaze flicking to mine again.
“Sorry, I should have told you,” I say quietly as I watch him taking in the information before Rosie cuts me off.
“You smell nice, Mr. Rothschild!” Rosie says, and I agree with her as I breathe him in.
“Call me Ben, Rosie. Mr. Rothschild is an old man's name,” Ben says, smiling at my daughter, his shock disappearing from his face.
“But aren’t you old, Ben?” she says without missing a beat, and I giggle.
