Under The Cherry Blossoms

by Amali Rose

  Sliding my gaze away, I mull over his words. I know Ben loves me. Somehow throughout all of this I have held tight to that fact. I know he’s lashing out, but knowing it and accepting it are two very different things.

  “He should have talked to me, not just run away.” My voice has regained its strength, and I talk with conviction. “He asked me to trust him, Mason, to trust his love for me. I deserve that same trust.” I push my chair back and get up to leave.

  Pausing, I take in Mason’s disheartened face and try to maintain my composure. “When he’s ready to talk, I’ll listen. I’ll always hear him out. But I’m not sure I can ever forgive him for this.”

  Hurrying out of the cafe, I make it halfway back to Books & Beans before the tears start to fall.

  BEN: Can I see you?

  BEN: I need to see you, Skye.

  BEN: Please.

  I’m standing on the stoop to Ben’s building, trying to work up the nerve to ring his buzzer, but my body feels numb and I’m overwhelmed with anxiety. It’s been a week since I last saw him, and while I knew this meeting was inevitable, that doesn’t make it any easier.

  The front door is thrown open by a harried woman who is being dragged forward by two young children. They are practically vibrating with excitement, ready for whatever adventures the day holds for them. I grab hold of the door as my eyes follow the little bundles of energy, racing down the street. My heart aches as my vision clouds, and I see an image of Ben being pulled along by a little girl with light brown curls in my mind’s eye.

  Shaking my head to clear it, I move forward into the building and steel myself for what is about to happen.

  I’m terrified to tell Ben that there is no baby. Terrified to hear that venom in his voice again. But as I leave the elevator and make my way down the hall to Ben’s door, I prepare myself for exactly that.

  I knock hesitantly, and as I hear his footsteps approach, I make one last silent prayer that I can do what needs to be done.

  The door is pulled open and I can only stare in shock at Ben’s haggard appearance. His eyes are red and bloodshot as though he hasn’t slept in days, and he is sporting a full beard. My hands itch to reach out to him, to caress his cheek as I lean into his body, and try to catch a hint of his familiar scent. However, I contain myself and my hands stay where they are, locked to my side.

  “Hey,” Ben says, offering me a tight smile. His voice is rough, as though talking is difficult, but I refuse to consider how hard this week may have been for him. Instead, I focus on the intensity of my own heartbreak, and allow the anger to clear my head while Ben stands there drinking me in. “Sorry, come in.” He steps back to give me room to enter.

  I walk in and pause just inside the entry, unsure how to proceed. Looking around, the sadness practically crushes me. We have created so many memories here over the last six months, and the realization that this is probably the last time I’ll stand here, the last time I’ll see him, is destroying me.

  “Have a seat.” Ben points to the overstuffed sofa in the living area. “Can I get you a drink? Coffee? Soda or water?”

  “No, I’m fine, thanks,” I reply as I take a seat.

  Ben crosses the room quickly and sits himself down on the coffee table, right in front of me. Our knees graze, barely touching, but it’s enough to cause my breath to catch in my throat.

  Trying to refocus, I close my eyes and consider how I’m going to start this conversation. Ben beats me to the punch, though.

  “I fucked up, Squeak.” My eyes snap open and meet his briefly, before he scrubs his hands across his face and continues. “So bad. I fucked everything up so bad, and I’m sorry. I don’t even…” His voice drifts off. “I’ve been fucking trying to figure out how to fix this for the last four days but I’ve got nothing.” Reaching over he takes hold of my hands and laces our fingers together, his eyes glued to the perfect fit. “You telling me about our baby should have been a fucking spectacular moment, and I ruined it. I can never take that back but I promise you—”

  “There is no baby.” My voice cracks as I abruptly cut him off, and I watch as his eyes cloud over. As the pain of losing another baby he didn’t know he wanted, sets in.

  “I don’t understand.” His eyes search mine for answers, while mine search his for reproach.

  “It was a false positive. When we went to the doctor the test came back negative. She said that it happens sometimes.” I can hear the desperation in my voice. The need for him to trust my truth. To believe me. To believe in me.

  His hands tighten around mine and suddenly I’m in motion, my body pulled to his and his arms enveloping me.

  “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” he whispers into my hair, his warm breath tickling my ear. I pull back, and meeting his gaze, I try to ascertain his sincerity.

  “You believe me?”

  “Fuck, Skye, of course I believe you. I know you would never do that, lie about something so huge. I know you, Squeak.” He cups my face with his large hands and gently places his forehead against mine.

  “I was an asshole, and I lost my head, my fucking mind, for a minute there. But I know you would never pull the shit that Amber did. I’m so sorry I questioned that.”

  With that he closes the small gap between us and brushes his lips against mine. The kiss starts soft, but as soon as his tongue tastes mine, our control snaps. I put every bit of emotion that has pulsed through my body this past week, into that kiss. And for a brief moment, I let the hungry desperation consume me, and allow the heat of Ben’s mouth to convince me that we are going to be okay.

  But as I pull away all I can taste is regret, and might-have-beens.

  “We can try, if you like.” Ben’s low voice interrupts my thoughts.

  “Try what?”

  “For a baby. I know it’s not something we had ever talked about, but if it’s what you want...”

  “Wait, Ben, stop for a second.” I force the words out harshly, scarcely believing the change in his attitude. “We can’t just act like this never happened. A week ago, you accused me of trying to trap you with a baby. You spoke to me as if you hated me. You looked at me as though I disgusted you! I don’t know if I can forgive you for that.”

  “Yes, you can.” His eyes beseech me. “You have to, Squeak. I fucked up, I couldn’t possibly have fucked up any bigger. I know that. I let shit from my past fuck me up, but I love you. You know I love you.”

  “You left me,” I whisper. “I trusted you. I believed you when you said you wouldn’t hurt me. But you did. You crushed me.”

  His body moves closer to mine, almost imperceptibly, while I speak. His legs now splayed on either side of mine, his face only inches away. I place a hand on his cheek and feel him lean into my touch. My eyes seek his, and as I gaze at the man before me, I remember the boy he was. The boy who helped me see the sunshine on my darkest day. Who would have thought that all these years later, he would be the one to bring the storm?

  “I need time. I’m sorry, but I need to figure out if I can move on from this.”

  He closes his eyes, but not before I glimpse the pain radiating from them, and my heart cracks with the knowledge that I am hurting him. But I need to do this. If we are to have any chance of surviving, I need to be sure I can forgive him, and he needs to be sure that he really does trust me.

  This time it’s me that closes the space between us, and I place a kiss on his full mouth, attempting to soften the blow.

  “I won’t lose you, Squeak. I’m not going to just give up.”

  For the first time in a week, a genuine smile lights up my face.

  “Well, you wouldn’t be the man I fell in love with if you did.” I rise and head for the door.

  “You said we.” His voice stops me in my tracks.

  “What?” I question.

  “You said when we went to the doctor. Who’s we?”

  “Oh, Cassidy went with me.”

  “Oh shit.”

  “Yeah, I suggest you wear a cup nex
t time you see her. She’s kind of gunning for your balls.”

  A smile plays on his lips, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

  “It should’ve been me with you,” he says, and the irrefutable sadness in his voice almost undoes me. “I really wish it had been me.”

  I nod my head in agreement and before he can say anything else I make my exit.

  Once outside in the hall, I lean against his closed door, and as the tears escape, I whisper, “I do too.”

  Saturday 10/7

  BEN: Knock, knock.

  BEN: Knock, knock.

  BEN: Knock, knock.

  BEN: Knock, knock.

  BEN: Knock, knock.

  SKYE: No one’s home.

  Wednesday 10/11

  BEN: Knock, knock.

  BEN: Knock, knock.

  BEN: Knock, knock.

  SKYE: Ugh, who’s there?

  BEN: Britney Spears.

  SKYE: Britney Spears who?

  BEN: Knock, knock.

  SKYE: Who’s there?

  BEN: Oops I did it again.

  BEN: I miss you, Squeak.

  Sunday 10/15

  BEN: Knock, knock.

  SKYE: Who’s there?

  BEN: A broken pencil.

  SKYE: A broken pencil who?

  BEN: Never mind. It’s pointless.

  SKYE: I don’t think these jokes are helping your cause.

  BEN: You love my jokes.

  SKYE: Meh.

  BEN: Don’t even try it. You used to tell me all the time how funny I was.

  SKYE: Was this in your dreams?

  BEN: No. Yours. You talk in your sleep.

  SKYE: You’re such a liar!

  BEN: No way, Squeak. You’re a fucking chatterbox.

  BEN: We need to talk properly, Skye.

  SKYE: I’m not ready yet.

  BEN: When?

  SKYE: Soon.

  Thursday 10/19

  BEN: Knock, knock.

  SKYE: Who’s there?

  BEN: Aardvark.

  SKYE: Aardvark who?

  BEN: Aardvark a hundred miles for one of your smiles.

  SKYE: *cough* lame *cough*

  BEN: What’s the longest word in the dictionary?

  SKYE: I don’t know.

  BEN: Smiles, because there is a mile between each S.

  BEN: I miss seeing your smile.

  BEN: Let’s have dinner tomorrow night?

  SKYE: I need more time, Ben.

  BEN: Squeak?

  SKYE: Yes?

  BEN: I love you.

  Monday 10/23

  BEN: Knock, knock.

  SKYE: Who’s there?

  BEN: Theodore.

  SKYE: Theodore who?

  BEN: Theodore wasn’t opened so I knocked.

  BEN: I need the door to open, Squeak.

  BEN: Or I can just kick the motherfucker down.

  SKYE: Lol.

  BEN: I wish I was joking.

  SKYE: I’m getting there, Ben. Believe it or not, Cassidy is your biggest champion right now.

  BEN: That’s strange. The daily messages she’s been sending me are all the varied and detailed ways she plans to remove my favorite body part.

  SKYE: And that’s why I love her.

  Friday 10/27

  BEN: Knock, knock.

  SKYE: Who’s there?

  BEN: Cynthia.

  SKYE: Cynthia who?

  BEN: Cynthia been away, I missed you.

  BEN: I miss you.

  SKYE: I miss you too.

  BEN: We need to talk, Squeak. We’re not going to sort anything out by text.

  SKYE: I know.

  SKYE: Can you come around tomorrow at 7?

  BEN: 7am? I’ll be there.

  SKYE: Uh no, Mackinnon, 7pm.

  BEN: You sure?

  SKYE: I’m sure.

  BEN: Okay, I’ll see you then.

  BEN: Knock, knock.

  SKYE: Who’s there?

  BEN: Olive.

  SKYE: Olive who?

  BEN: Olive you.

  SKYE: I love you too.

  Looking at the clock as I dash madly around the apartment tidying it up, I see I have half an hour before Ben is due to arrive. The apartment doesn’t actually need tidying, but I have so much nervous energy coursing through my body, I’m finding it impossible to sit still.

  It’s been three weeks since I last saw him, but he has been in contact daily, messaging me multiple times a day. Always starting with those ridiculous knock knock jokes. The ridiculous jokes that bring a smirk to my lips every time I think about them. I would never admit it to him, but I do love his humor, the way he doesn’t take himself too seriously. So different to most men. So different to my father. Because he’s not my father, he’s a guy who loves me and who fucked up. A guy who has a past that scarred him, the same way my past bruised me. But he loves me, and he’s sorry. I have complete confidence in that, and as soon as the realization hit me, I was almost desperate to see him. To touch him, reassure him. To love him.

  The buzzer startles me out of my reverie. The clock tells me that Ben is early, and I don’t think I have ever been so grateful for his impatience. Buzzing him in, I move to the door and wait for his knock, practically vibrating with anticipation.

  It feels like an eternity has passed with no sign of his arrival, and in a moment of frustration I wrench the door open, coming face to face with Ben, his arm raised, and I have to duck down to miss the knock that almost lands on my forehead.

  “Shit, Skye, sorry. Are you okay?” he asks, leaning forward. Grabbing hold of me, his eyes map my face, ensuring he didn’t make contact, while a laugh escapes me. Of all the ways I imagined this going, that was definitely not one of them.

  “I’m fine,” I answer and as his eyes finally land on mine. I feel the last shred of indecision take flight. This man is it for me.

  Throwing myself at him, Ben is caught off guard, but he still manages to catch me. And there’s not a doubt in my mind that he will always be the one to catch me.

  I reach for him mindlessly, my hands needing to touch him, for his solid strength to anchor me. Our mouths clash as Ben drags my body against his, moving me forward so he can enter. I hear the door slam, but my eyes remain closed as I enjoy every sensation that his touch inspires in me.

  Turning us around, Ben slams me into the door, his body completely flush with mine, as though he can’t possibly get close enough. Breaking the kiss, he pulls back slightly, and I can sense his apprehension.

  “Are we going to be okay, Squeak?”

  I take his face in my hands as I consider how to answer. “We are going to be a perfect chaotic mess of imperfection,” I reply, and remembering Wyatt’s words to me all those months ago, I continue, “we’re going to let the happiness bring us to our knees.”

  Ben places a soft kiss on my mouth, licking along my bottom lip before biting down gently.

  “I do like you on your knees,” he rasps out with a wicked glint in his eye.

  “You’re such a pervert!” I laugh out, before he shuts me up with a kiss that is all tongue and teeth, licking and biting.

  Grabbing my ass, he lifts me with ease, squeezing my cheeks with no regard for gentleness, and I love it. His rough touch causes my pussy to clench, and I grind myself against him in an attempt to get the friction my clit so fiercely needs. With a low chuckle that sends a shiver through me, Ben asks, “You want my cock, baby?”

  “Fuck yes,” I answer, with not a hint of hesitation.

  “Ah, see now, what are we going to do about that filthy mouth, Squeak? You might need to be punished.” His lips find my neck, chasing a harsh bite, with a tender kiss.

  “Promises, promises,” I sigh.

  Suddenly and without warning, I am hoisted over Ben’s shoulder into a fireman’s hold, and the sound of his large hand cracking across my rounded ass echoes throughout the room.

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Squeak,” he says as he strides briskly across the
apartment, heading straight for my bedroom, where he spends the next few hours fucking me, and loving me in equal measures.

  I lie in bed the following morning watching the sunrise through the sheer curtains, completely overwhelmed with my happiness. The road we took to get to this moment was rocky, and there were moments I definitely feared we wouldn’t make it. But lying here with the steady drum of Ben’s heartbeat playing under my ear, and his hard, sinewy chest beneath my fingertips I am sure that every bump, every stumble, every faltered step was worth it. Would continue to be worth it.

  Turning my head, I place a kiss on Ben’s shoulder, careful not to wake him; and as I close my eyes to chase the slumber that has eluded me, I send out a silent prayer of thanks to whatever entity exists out there, for bringing me exactly what I didn’t realize I needed. I guess the dick-pic gods had my back after all.

  Five Years Later

  BEN

  There are people everywhere I turn, and I am seriously going to lose my shit if this party doesn’t get started soon. The sooner it starts, the sooner it ends, and the sooner I can lay my girl out beneath me and watch her face as she comes apart under my fingers. My mouth. My cock. I feel my dick start to thicken at the memory of her ass bent over the sofa last night. Her back arched as I fisted a handful of hair, that juicy ass marked pink by the crack of my hand, and her eyes glazed with lust as she held my gaze over her shoulder. Fuck, I need to put this shit on lockdown unless I want to be sporting a giant hard-on at truly the most inappropriate moment.

  Mason steps forward from his spot next to me with a ridiculous smirk on his face, and my impending boner deflates immediately.

  “You alright there, man? You look like you’re about to bust out of your skin.”

  “Yeah, I’m good. I just need this fucking party to start already. Five years is a long time to wait.”

  Five years. I shake my head in disbelief. It was never supposed to take this long. But life, man. It has a way of giving you exactly what you need, before you realize you need it.