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“She is the best daughter a mom could ask for.” Rosie is as resilient as they come. “Nothing is too hard for her. Just like the phone this afternoon, she keeps trying and trying until she gets it. She works harder than any other kids her own age. Although I may be biased,” I add, smiling. When I look at him, he’s frowning, seemingly lost in his thoughts. And I think I know why.
“Have you ever gotten along with your mother?” I ask, trying not to pry, but I can’t help it.
“She is just all about appearances. She has us four boys, but she is not concerned with our happiness or welfare, just how we look to the outside world,” he says, taking a deep breath.
“I have learned a lot through Rosie. When you don’t have vision, there is so much more to be grateful for. What other people think is really not what is important.” He nods, leaning over and pressing a kiss to my cheek.
“How did she lose her sight?” Ben asks as he wipes down the counter while I finish the last two dishes. Bile rises in my throat as I think back to that night in Jeremy’s office. I remember it vividly. Me at seven months pregnant. I was slow to show, so my belly had only bloomed a few weeks before. I remember waddling into Jeremy’s office that night, thinking I would surprise him. When I opened the door and saw him having sex with a woman who wasn’t me on his desk, the only thing I could think to do was run. My heart starts racing as I recall that night like I am living it again. Jeremy chasing me, me running to the stairwell, not wanting to wait for the elevator. Him pushing through the door after me, yelling at me for being fat and stupid or some other cruel words to that effect before I felt his hand on my shoulder. I even remember freezing, waiting for the pain that usually happens when he grabs me, but this time, there was nothing. He pushed instead, and I flew down the flight of stairs, landing directly on my belly. The vivid pain I felt before I fell unconscious is not something I will ever forget.
“She was born blind. She has never had sight,” I say quietly, deep in thought, scrubbing the dish in hand harder, even though it’s already clean. Ben’s arms circle around me, pulling me to his body. I lean on him, comforted by his warm touch. The heavy feeling outweighs any ability I have of keeping a straight spine, and I take a few deep breaths and pull myself together.
“You are amazing,” he whispers, kissing my neck, then my jaw, before his hand grips my chin and he turns my head to face him. “The most amazing woman I have ever met.” I want to cry, but with happiness this time. I know he means what he says, I can tell by the look in his eyes. I am falling for him harder and harder every time we are together.
“Ben! Can you read me a bedtime story?” Rosie yells from her room where she stands in her pajamas at the door.
I smile then, and Ben laughs. “Go, there’s only one dish left, and she will be asleep before the first chapter ends.” Rosie has had enough activity tonight to have her sleeping for days.
“I won’t be long,” he says, kissing me on the lips quickly and stepping away, then walking to my daughter as I watch from the kitchen. She slips into bed, the small night-light on, and Ben sits next to her, perched on a small pink chair, looking like a giant in comparison as he begins to read her the story of Beauty and the Beast.
As predicted, Rosie is fast asleep before the first chapter is over, and I sneak in, kissing her good night, then switch off the lights and turn on her sleep music.
As I close her door, I notice Ben watching me intently from the living room.
“She sleeps with music on?” Ben asks as I make my way to the sofa and sit next to him.
“Because she was born blind, her circadian rhythm is a bit off, meaning she doesn't sleep as well as we do, often waking at all hours of the night. The music is on a timer and stays on all night until she is due to wake up. So when she wakes in the middle of the night, if she can hear the music, she knows it is still dark and sleep time. It also helps her to have a deeper sleep, keeping her mind from wandering.”
Ben nods, again the crumple in his eyebrows telling me he has more questions.
“The first day I came into the classroom, I helped Rosie with some painting. She painted her family. Just you and her,” he says, and I nod, not sure where he is going with this.
“It’s just us, Ben. It has been for a long time.” I answer as best I can without the whole horrid story coming out.
“She mentioned her father was abusive,” Ben continues, and my world starts spinning. I sit stunned for a moment before I swallow and try to find the words. I had no idea Rosie spoke like that. As Ben looks at me, I see his jaw clenching, and his hands grip each other in front of him.
“Like I said. It is just us, and it has been that way for a long time,” I say again, the response rolling off my tongue automatically. My heart is racing, and I feel the tears starting to well. I want to tell him. I want to tell him everything. I think about George’s advice, about maybe getting Ben’s help with it all, but I need to take care of this situation myself. I can’t drag him into it. I just want to enjoy him, enjoy us, for however long it will last. He nods, but I can tell it bothers him that I’m not being more open.
“Come here,” he says, his demanding nature coming out, and I raise an eyebrow.
“Get your sweet ass over here, baby. I want you on my lap.” His frown turns into a smirk, and my body moves over the sofa all on its own. Hands landing on my waist, he pulls me up like I weigh nothing and plants me on his lap. Facing him, my legs fall on either side, the skirt I am wearing sliding up my thighs a little.
“It has been too long since I had my hands on you,” he murmurs, his large hands grabbing and molding to my ass, pulling me to him so I can feel him hard underneath me. My body reacts instantly, my shoulders lowering from my ears as I let out a breath I had no idea I had been holding. I feel feminine, flirty, and sexy in his embrace. No longer the tired single mom, but a woman.
“Does everyone always do as you ask?” I quiz him, knowing that he is a man who always gets exactly what he wants.
“Always. Want to test that theory? Because there is something I want right now…” His eyebrow quirks in a challenge.
“Sure. What do you want?” I ask playfully as one of his hands moves from my hips up my waist, sliding up my side, following my curves until he finds my breast, and he brushes his thumb across my nipple, before moving his hand farther up to cup my chin. Even fully dressed, his light touch makes me shiver.
“I want my lips on yours,” he groans, his eyes full of lust, while his other hand grips my ass even tighter.
“You do, huh?” I bite my lip to tease him, leaning just out of reach.
“Come here,” he whispers, pulling my face toward him and encasing my waist until there’s no space between us. I moan at the feel of him beneath me, my lips meeting his like they’re magnetized.
His mouth moves against mine slowly, like he is taking his time, discovering me all over again. The agreement we have in place and the situation we find ourselves in outside of these four walls is now nonexistent. We are just two people finding each other, getting to know each other, devouring each other.
I open to him, white-knuckling his shirt as his tongue meshes with mine, his grip on me remaining strong. Feeling secure, my body leans on him, then he pulls back slightly, leaning back into the sofa. With his head relaxed, his eyes fixate on mine, hands moving up and down my bare thighs. My skin tingles with every pass as anticipation builds between us. I feel heat at my core, along with his throbbing length beneath his zipper, pushing against me.
