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“Some days I feel very old, Rosie,” Ben replies, his grin now matching hers.
“Okay. Mommy, I am going to finish getting ready for swimming.” With her cane in hand, she walks back into the apartment. We have lived here for long enough now that Rosie knows the floor plan front to back. I haven’t moved any furniture, decorations, or changed a thing since we moved in, wanting to keep it consistent for her to remain as independent as possible.
“Come in,” I say as I sweep my arm into the apartment and step back from the door. “Thank you for the coffee delivery.” I take a small sip as I walk into the kitchen and lean against my kitchen counter. As Ben enters into my space, he seems to take up all the room. I have never had a man in my apartment, if you don’t count George, anyway. My apartment is small, and for us two girls it is just fine, but here now with Ben, as tall as he is, it looks almost comical.
Ben pierces me with his eyes. “So you’re Rosie’s mom?”
“I didn’t want to say anything, not at first. I wasn’t sure about you, me, or this agreement, or…” I say, starting to talk too fast, waiting for him to run. To make any excuse to get the hell away from me and my daughter. I am still surprised he turned up here at all. Given it is only nine in the morning and he traveled from the city, he must have been up early to get here.
“Stop. It’s fine, and I understand. I’m a little shocked, but it kind of explains why you two are so close. I just thought she was the teacher’s pet. She looks like you,” he says, taking a sip of his coffee and coming closer. He stops right in front of me, looking down, his eyes asking all the questions his mouth has yet to say.
“Her father is not in the picture. Hasn’t been for a very long time." I offer the only information he is going to get.
“Good to know,” he says, leaning in closer. Every inch he moves, my heart beats a little faster.
“I am still trying to find my footing with this whole fake fiancée thing,” I say on a breath, visuals of Ben with Sasha in the elevator coming to my mind. My thoughts must be clearly displayed on my face because he looks serious for a moment.
“Me too,” he admits as he grabs my hand, noticing the ring is gone. He looks at me with a scowl.
“I am not wearing it swimming! What if I lost it?”
“Good point.” Lifting my finger to his lips, he kisses it softly. Confusion swirls around my body, as does the warm feeling in my chest. We haven't spoken since our city date. The incredible kiss we shared has played on repeat in my mind for the last few days, wondering what the hell I was thinking. But with him now standing right in front of me, here in my kitchen, I don’t feel remorse, but rather the desire to do it all over again.
He watches me intently, and I feel heat in our exchange as his fingers brush back the wisps of hair that have fallen around my face. He drags his fingers along my jaw and down my neck, and a trickle of goosebumps follow his touch as the fire within me grows stronger.
“There is no one here, Ben… we don’t need to pretend,” I whisper, reminding him that we are not on show. Even though the last thing I want is for him to stop.
What is it about this man that makes me equal parts giddy and equal parts want to rip his clothes off. I felt it the moment we first met at the bar and the feeling has only intensified with every interaction we have had since. He looks at me like I am the most important person in the world; it’s almost domineering, but in a positive way. His fingers scorch my skin and heat pools in places it hasn’t for a very long time.
I watch as his Adam’s apple bobs, the spark between us now near electric. This is not what I thought my Saturday morning would consist of.
“I know, and I don’t care,” he murmurs as he leans in, and like my body is disconnected from my brain, I lean toward him too. I’m lost in his eyes as he looks down at me, his lips coming closer to mine with every breath.
“I’m ready! Are you ready, Ben?” Rosie appears again, excitement evident in her tone, and we jump apart like two teenagers caught by their parents.
He looks at me, and I smile. “Sure thing, Rosie, but I am not swimming today.” I narrow my eyes in confusion.
“That pool took the top layer off my skin last week. I can’t do it two times in a row,” he murmurs to me, and I roll my lips.
“Next time, can you bring your swim trunks? I want to pair up with you instead of Mommy for a change.” Rosie is beyond excited now at us having a house guest and has clearly pushed me out of the way now that Ben is her new favorite friend.
“I think I would like that, Rosie. Next Saturday, I will bring my swimming trunks so I can join you.”
Rosie giggles, and I raise my eyebrows at Ben, but he simply shrugs and smirks back at me.
“Okay then, let’s go!” Grabbing our large swimming bag that is overflowing with towels and clothes in one hand, I take Rosie’s hand in the other. I don’t know why, but I just can’t master packing. Bags, suitcases, anything. I always shove things in and hope for the best; my swimming bag is clearly evidence of this.
Ben holds the door open and takes the bag from me as we walk out, the whole thing feeling oddly domestic.
We hit the sidewalk and I feel Ben’s hand on my back, the warmth and protection instant. Rosie and I start walking toward the bus station. The swimming pool is not far away, but too far for us to walk, so we normally take the nine thirty a.m. bus, which puts us at the pool at nine forty-five, and we are in the pool by ten.
“Where are you going?” Ben asks me. He has stopped walking and is looking around the street.
“The bus station,” I reply simply.
“We catch the nine thirty, Ben. Come on, we will be late!” Rosie says, and I know we need to hurry up because Rosie hates to be late to anything.
Ben reaches for my hand and begins to pull me toward him and in the opposite direction. “I’ll drive,” he says as he leads the way, holding my hand, and Rosie follows behind me.
