by Coco Jordan
“What is that, some kind of sappy love story?” I asked. I knew exactly what it was.
“You said I could pick,” she reminded me, defending her selection. Within minutes, she’d located the movie on demand channel and the opening credits were playing across the screen. She propped up some pillows behind her and settled in, mere inches from me. “You better not fall asleep, Bennett.”
“I won’t,” I promised, sitting with my arms folded like a perfect gentleman. All I really wanted to do was put them around her, pull her in, and hold her close. She looked tired, but then again, she always did. She was always giving so much to other people and never took the time to take care of herself. Sometimes when she slept, she’d whimper or make little puppy dog noises, and it was the cutest damn thing. She was adorable, and she didn’t even know it.
Halfway through the movie, I got slightly bored. My eyes nonchalantly turned her way. I just wanted to watch her. She was a million times hotter than Rachel McAdams, anyway. She must have felt me watching her, because after a while, she turned toward me and I quickly glanced away, hoping I hadn’t been caught.
The movie ended another hour later, and Amara lay there, staring at the screen in pure silence. Her lip began to quiver, and from the looks of it, she was fighting back tears.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, reaching my hand over to cover hers. “The movie wasn’t sad. It had a happy ending. Why are you crying?”
“It’s nothing. It’s dumb. Don’t worry about it,” she waved me off and rolled her eyes as she hopped up to grab the remote and shut the movie off.
“It’s that asshole ex of yours, isn’t it?” I knew it. I knew she saw him over the weekend.
“No,” she whispered, her voice unconvincing and hollow.
“What’d he do now?”
“It’s a long story. It’ll bore you to death,” she said, picking at her nails.
“I’ve got all night,” I insisted. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“You were right when you said people do stupid things when they’re in love,” she said, her voice cracking and deflated. “I shouldn’t have met up with Spencer the other night. And again this afternoon. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“You were thinking with your heart and not your head.”
“I guess I thought he still loved me.”
“Did he say he still loves you?”
“Yes.”
“So, what’s the problem?”
“He pretty much said we can’t be together right now, we should keep talking, and that we should just see what happens down the road.”
“Sounds logical. What’s the problem?”
“I just want him to want me again,” she said, drawing her knees up to her chest as if to comfort herself.
“What’s so great about this asshole, anyway?” I asked.
“Everything and nothing all at the same time,” she said, her lips curling into a wistful yet regretful smile. She leaned back on the bed again, resting on the downy pillows. She opened her mouth to elaborate and then simply said, “It’s hard to explain.”
“I don’t buy it,” I said. “You’re just holding onto an illusion. You’re clinging onto what might have been and what once was. You need to move on, Amara. If he truly loved you and wanted to be with you, he’d be with you. He wouldn’t string you along like some backup plan.”
“It’s not that simple,” she objected.
“Yes,” I said, my voice raising. “It really is. You just refuse to see it that way, and that’s really too bad for you.”
Her eyes widened at the loudening of my voice, but I couldn’t help but get worked up. She needed to waste her tears on someone who deserved them, not that ass hat.
“Hm, someone’s opinionated,” she said, rolling her eyes and refusing to swallow my jagged little pill of truth. “Maybe some part of me wants to prove that I’m good enough for him because I never felt like I was.”
“Ah,” I said. “So that’s what this is about: rejection.”
“Maybe,” she said, her eyes glued to the comforter. “I don’t know anything anymore.”
“So, you’re going to put your life on pause for some guy who’s not even sure he wants to be with you right now, but he wants to make sure you’re an option for him? You’re a princess, waiting for her knight in shining armor to show up and rescue her from the depths of despair, when really there’s no guarantee that he’ll even show up. Pretty sad. Not to mention cliché. Come on, Ev. You can do better than that.”
“You just called me Ev,” she said, ushering in a much needed change of subject.
“I did,” I said with a slow smile.
“I didn’t know we were on a nickname basis,” she laughed, her first real smile all day. “Now I need to think of one for you. And don’t tell me to call you ‘Jules’ again. How about J-dog? J-man? Juliano?”
“Oh, God. Stop,” I said, stifling a laugh. “Those are horrible.”
“I’m going to think of a good one,” she promised. “Just wait.”
The atmosphere around us instantly lightened, and I thanked God for that.
“I’m hungry,” I announced, trying to drown out the obnoxiously-loud rumbling of my stomach.
“Okay,” she said, popping up quickly and changing gears. It was easy to forget that she was just an employee sometimes, just someone working for the family. “I’ll be right back.”
She ran downstairs and returned a short time later with a tray full of some kind of pasta dish and vegetables and placed it on the table.
“I thought you could eat here tonight,” she said, nodding toward the table by the window.
I slid my feet out from the covers and placed them on the cool wooden floor before carefully walking ten feet across the room to the table. It felt easier that time, easier than it had ever felt before. I took a seat, the steam from the pasta filling my nostrils, and rolled some noodles onto my fork.
“Chicken Alfredo,” she said. “Another Robinson family recipe.”
“It’s very good,” I said between bites. “Another attempt to fatten me up, I see.”
She smiled as she watched me eat.
“This is good, and I don’t even like food,” I said in an attempt to compliment her.
“Hey, I’m going to my room for a bit,” she said. “I’ll come back for your tray later. Just text me if you need something.” She grabbed my new phone off the nightstand and placed it next to my tray before leaving my room. Her mind was clearly on other things.
Or other people.
AMARA
The chirping of birds and the hint of a sunrise peeking in through the window shades woke me early the next morning. I’d fallen asleep clutching my phone, still dressed in my clothes from yesterday. I must’ve been damn tired.
I checked my texts. Not a single one from Bennett. He’d left me alone for the night, and I was quite positive he knew exactly why I’d scrambled out of his room so quickly while he was having dinner. I hoped he wasn’t mad at me, but I couldn’t help the way I felt. I just wished he could understand.
I responded to a message from Cherish about going out again soon and crawled out from the thick covers and headed to my bathroom to get ready before whipping up his breakfast for the morning.
“Good morning,” I whispered as I pushed his door open a short while later, my arms full with his breakfast tray.
Bennett rolled over at the sound of my voice. His mussed, dark hair was pushed to the side, the sign of a good night’s sleep. His jaw, which now looked stronger than ever as his face was filling out, was relaxed and unclenched. Maybe he wasn’t mad at me, after all?
I set the tray down on his table and headed over toward him as I started popping open his pill bottles and preparing his nebulizer. He raked his hands, which were also noticeably filled out, through his thick head of hair as he watched me.
“Morning,” he sighed. An unusual smile crossed his face.
“You’re happy this morning, handsome,
” I teased. I cringed inwardly for calling him that. I didn’t’ want him to get the wrong idea. It just came out. I meant it, but I shouldn’t have said it. It was unprofessional of me.
Bennett placed one foot on the floor, followed by the other, and braced himself. He steadily climbed out of bed and inched his way toward the table by the window.
“Scrambled eggs, oatmeal, and toast,” I said. “Thought I’d lay off the grease for a bit.”
He took his seat and I drew back the curtains, revealing a picturesque view of the English garden that was beginning to green and bud below. I pulled up a chair next to him and stared out the window. Growing up, I always tried to imagine what it would’ve been like to live in a mansion. I pretended my bedroom was in a tower and I had to look out the window below as I waited to be rescued. Bennett’s room was fit for a princess, or a prince. He was certainly Ingrid’s prince, kept locked and hidden away.
“What are you thinking about right now?” Bennett asked, disrupting my little daydream.
“Nothing important,” I said, shaking my head.
“You look really pretty,” he said, “when the sun hits your face like that.”
“Oh, stop.” I rolled my eyes, unable to hide the grin that took over my face. It was nice to hear it, even if it was inappropriate.
In another world, maybe he and I could’ve entertained the possibility of being together. He was handsome and almost regal, old-fashioned and otherworldly, the kind of guy who would fight for the woman he loved the way a man was supposed to fight. Anymore, Bennett hardly seemed sick, and in my opinion, he didn’t need my help at all. He was perfectly capable of living independently if he wanted to, but I supposed this was all he’d ever known.
“What do you want to do today?” I asked as I stood up and began straightening up his nightstand.
“I kind of want to get out of the house today,” he answered. “Let’s do something different. Want to take my dad’s Jag out for a spin?”
“Seriously?” I scoffed. “Your parents would kill me if they caught us. They’d fire me for sure. No questions asked.”
“Ha!” Bennett laughed. “They’re halfway across the country right now. How would they ever know?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Nosy neighbors? One of the staff?”
“I’ll take care of the staff, and don’t worry about the neighbors,” he assured me. “They don’t know that you’re not allowed to drive it. Let’s go, Amara. Let’s just get in the car and go.”
Bennett’s normally buttoned-up façade was fading, and in its place was a young man trying his best to open up and embrace the life he’d been given. It was hard to argue with him when he was trying so damn hard to do what I’d told him to do.
“Fine,” I said, a rush of excitement stealing the moment. “You talked me into it.”
I wanted to hug him for trying. For listening to me. For coming out of his shell.
“Let’s not make a big deal of this,” he said, likely sensing my excitement.
We made our way down the stairs, Bennett requiring no assistance whatsoever, and headed to the underground garage, which was down a long corridor and past several mysterious basement doors. Bennett pressed a code into a numbered box on the wall and unlocked the door. Shining under several spotlights was a fleet of at least six rare, vintage, and luxury vehicles.
“Who needs this many cars?” I asked, taking in the beauty and magnificence before me.
“My father,” Bennett said dryly. “There it is.”
He pointed to a shiny, chromed-out onyx Jaguar convertible parked in the corner. Sandwiched between a vintage Porsche 911 and a Model T Ford, it was begging to be started up, begging for us to take it out of that stuffy underground garage and out onto the open road.
“I’m really nervous to drive this thing,” I said, imagining the power and roar of the engine. Even as it sat there all quiet and pretty, that thing screamed power.
“Get over it,” he said as he grabbed the keys from a box on the wall. “We’re getting out of here.”
I climbed into the driver’s seat and slid onto the buttery smooth leather. I folded my sweaty palms around the leather-wrapped steering wheel and familiarized myself with the dashboard. The car looked like it had only been driven a handful of times.
I sunk down into the soft driver’s seat and ran my fingers along the wood grain dash before bringing my hand down and resting it on the chrome shifter knob. “This is the nicest car I’ve ever been in in my entire life, Bennett.”
He laughed, and there was a sort of nervous excitement about him, like this was his first real taste of rebellion. “You going to start it, or what?”
Inserting the key into the ignition, I took a deep breath and pressed it forward. The engine began to purr softly, waiting patiently for me to shift into drive. Bennett reached over and pressed a button, and the top came down and folded behind us. The weather was calling for an unusually warm March day, which wasn’t all that atypical for Kansas.
As I shifted the car into gear, Bennett pressed the garage door remote and we were on our way, heading around from the back of the house and exiting via the pristine circle drive.
“This thing is amazing,” I said to Bennett, a smile across my face as we zoomed down the street. He flashed a reserved smile in return as he fished around in the glove box and slipped on a pair of Ray-Ban aviators. They must’ve been his dad’s, but he wore them well, as if they were better suited for him.
“Here,” he said, handing me a pair of driving gloves. “You need the full experience.”
I slipped them on as soon as we pulled up to a stop sign. Never in a million years did I think I’d ever be wearing driving gloves and behind the wheel of such a fancy car.
“Can I teach you how to drive today?” I asked.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” he said, immediately shooting me down. “I don’t have a license.”
“I thought we were living a little today,” I said, nudging him with my elbow.
“Fine,” he said with an eye roll. That was the Bennett I knew. “Just make sure it’s in a remote area.”
“We’re going to Green Hill Park,” I told him. “It’s on the outskirts of town. There’s a lake and a trail and a grassy area. It’s Monday morning, so we should have the whole place to ourselves.”
We zipped around town for a bit in the Jaguar, the tepid breeze whipping my hair all around. I thought about tying it back but changed my mind. If I were with Spencer, I’d care about my hair looking crazy, but I knew those types of things didn’t matter to Bennett.
After a bit of joy riding, I turned down an access road and took a left, bringing us to Green Hill Park. Just as I expected, the place was completely vacant. We had the whole thing to ourselves.
“Time to switch,” I told him, gently placing the car in park.
He swallowed, staring ahead, as if he were slightly nervous.
“You’re not chickening out, are you?” I teased. “You’re twenty-four. Time to learn how to drive.”
“I’m well aware of my age,” he snipped.
“Come on. You’re driving,” I said, climbing out and running to the passenger side.
We switched places, with Bennett gripping the steering wheel and staring straight ahead.
“Adjust your mirrors,” I said. “Seatbelt. Right foot on the brake. Shift into drive. Gently press on the gas pedal.”
He followed my instructions to the letter as he concentrated on the gravel parking lot in front of us. His eyes never averted once as he gently placed the car in motion. He was a natural.
“You’re doing great,” I said. “Now, turn your wheel hard to the right so we can turn around and go out to the main road. Put your left blinker on. Look both ways for traffic. If it’s clear to go, then turn your wheel left and press the gas.”
Again, he followed my directions to the letter.
“See? You’re so good at this,” I said, sitting back and relaxing a bit. “Giv
e it a little more gas. The speed limit is forty-five here.”
He sped up, and within seconds, we were cruising down the highway with nothing but earth, wind, and warm sunshine around us.
“I think I kind of like this,” he said, turning to me with his lips parted into a reserved smile. He looked so damn handsome like that, sitting up straight behind the wheel of a beautiful car with the wind rustling his hair and his aviators reflecting the sunlight from above. He didn’t look sick at all. He looked so damn handsome. I caught my heart beating fast as my mind wandered for a split second, and then I jerked my head. I had to stop looking at him like that. As his nurse, it wasn’t appropriate.
I leaned back, stretching my face toward the sky and letting the warmth of the sun above wash over me.
BENNETT
If someone had told me a month ago I’d be gliding along the highway in my dad’s most prized car with a pretty girl by my side, I’d have never believed them. I was living a dream. This wasn’t real. There was no way it could possibly be real.
From the corner of my eye, I watched as Amara tossed her head back, her dark hair blowing like crazy and whipping around her face. She looked happy, carefree. And she trusted me. I’d never driven before, and yet she trusted me with her life, her safety.
“Should we head back toward the park?” she asked a few minutes later, unintentionally ruining one of the greatest moments of my entire life. “Come to a gentle stop up ahead in that driveway, put it in reverse, back out, then put it in drive and head back to the park.”
As I followed her directions, I saw her glance down at her phone in her lap, and then to my surprise, she hit the ignore button. A minute later her phone went off again, and again she ignored it. After a third time, she seemed flustered.
“I’m sorry. It’s my friend, Cherish,” she said, annoyed. “She keeps calling. I have to take this.”
“It’s fine,” I said, focusing on the road ahead where my turn was coming up.
“What’s wrong?” Amara asked. “Did something happen?”
Silence.
“What?” Amara asked. I hadn’t the slightest idea about what was being said, but from the sound of Amara’s voice and the way her shoulders fell as if her entire world had just been deflated was like a punch to the gut.
