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“Hey… sorry. I’m later than I hoped,” Ben murmurs, looking stressed, running his hands through his hair before he looks at me. His face relaxes when he does, and he walks straight to me, his hand curling around my waist and pulling me to him.
“It’s okay. I just finished dinner, so you’re right on time.” Smiling up at him, he hums, holding me tighter.
“It’s so good to see you, baby,” he murmurs quietly, putting his lips on mine, and I sink into his hold, never wanting to leave. We pull apart slowly, the promise of food probably the only real motivation we have to move. And I step back to let him inside, and as soon as the door closes behind us, he exhales heavily, like the weight of the world is on his shoulders.
“Are you alright?” I ask, because he still looks super stressed.
“It’s been a long day, but I’m glad I am here. I needed to see my fake fiancée tonight,” he offers with a cheeky grin, wrapping his hands around my middle again now that we are safely inside. I melt into his body, leaning on him, feeling protected. As he takes a deep breath, I feel the stress of the day leave him in an instant. Likewise, I relax into him, comforted by the fact that he is here.
“Oh, I almost forgot I brought you these,” he says, pulling a small packet from his pocket.
“What is it?” I ask, confused.
“Earplugs for when you do music with the kids next.” He winks, and I snort a laugh.
“Thanks, although I don’t think they will block out much,” I say, laughing, looking at the tiny foam earplugs that squish in my hands before forming again. It is sweet he buys me these little gifts like this, many not more than a few dollars, something that is small change to a man like Ben, yet they always have meaning. Something I don’t miss.
“Hi, Ben!” Rosie says from where she is standing in the living room. We pull apart, and Ben walks over to her, grabbing her hand.
“Ben, is your brother really the governor?” Rosie asks him, and I am relieved that her mind has already moved on from what we just practiced. Mine, on the other hand, will take me a little longer.
I leave them chatting while I get dinner organized and set the table. I don’t often cook large meals because Rosie and I generally don’t eat a lot. Aside from George, I haven’t cooked for another man in a long time, and I am a bit nervous for Ben to enjoy it.
As I get everything ready, I observe him and Rosie for a beat. The two of them are sitting on the sofa as Rosie shows him how she uses the new phone. They call George two more times together as Ben watches her intently, concern etched into his brow before he breaks into a huge grin from seeing her so happy.
“Dinner is ready!” I call out to them, and Rosie is quick to stand, grabbing her small cane and making her way to the table. That is the other thing I am currently saving for. Her cane is great, but it’s getting a little small as she grows, and it got damaged a few months ago in the door of the bus, the bottom half of it now encased in thick tape to keep it together.
“Smells delicious,” Ben says, coming to stand in front of me, his hands resting on my hips.
“I hope you are hungry,” I offer, looking over the spread I have made. Fresh bread, cheeses, and the Bolognese, something you would probably see in a small Italian town—although I am sure not quite as tasty.
“When it comes to you, baby, I am always hungry,” he murmurs before leaning down and kissing me quickly, a small smirk playing on his lips. It feels natural. Like this is my life. I welcome it, even though I know I shouldn’t. The lines of our agreement are now so blurred, I am not sure what is real and what is fake.
“Ben, come and sit next to me!” Rosie says from the table, and I help get her settled, Ben taking up the seat at the end, us two girls on either side of him.
“The firemen came to school today!” she says enthusiastically as we all eat our meals.
Ben’s eyes flick to me in question.
“Firemen? Was there a fire today?” he asks, his forehead creasing.
“No. Apparently, they received a tip that we were operating facilities that didn’t meet the code,” I explain, my eyebrows raising in a sarcastic manner, and I watch his face as the penny drops.
“Beasley?” he mutters in question.
“No doubt,” is all I say, before I move the topic to safer waters. We haven’t received any more meeting demands yet, and for that, I am thankful. But I am not stupid, and Ben has already made it clear how this will go. I know Beasley has something up his sleeve; I am just waiting for him to show his cards.
“What happened to your wall?” Ben asks, again with concern etched into his face, looking at the door handle-sized hole in the plaster.
“Oh, I just threw the door open a little too quickly the other day.” I smile, taking a sip of my drink at the same time, shielding my face from his eyes. I hate lying to him. Weeks ago, the lies flew off my tongue no problem, but now things are different. They leave a bad taste in my mouth, one that is hard to remove.
Rosie remains quiet as she twirls her pasta, finishing her bowl. I didn’t tell her what happened, but I am sure she knows. She may not have her sight, but her hearing is impeccable, and George and I have been speaking about it all at length this past week as he tried to get me to move back into his place, rather than be here on my own.
“Finished, Mom!” Rosie says, just as Ben and I both finish too.
“Rosie, why don’t you go and get ready for bed,” I suggest since it’s getting late, and Rosie stands, grabbing her cane and walking to her room. Ben sits for a moment, watching her before standing to help me clear the table.
“She is incredible. You are such a great mom,” he states softly, and I pause as I rinse the dishes. It has been a long time since anyone has said those words to me. Glenda was the last person, saying the same to me on her death bed. It was the last time we spoke.
