“That’s great. How about therapy? How’s that going?”
“It’s hard. I started out going three times a week, but that was too intense. I go twice a week now and it’s still intense. But I’m going to stick with it.” She paused, thinking about what had happened a few days ago. “I told my parents about my uncle.”
“Wow. You did?”
“Yes. That was hard, too. They didn’t want to believe it at first. Especially my mom, since Jeffrey was her brother. But they agreed to meet me for a session at the therapist’s office, and we started to talk about it.”
“I’m so proud of you, Jess.”
“There’s still a lot of work to do—but we’ve taken the first step.” She rolled onto her back and switched the phone to her other ear. “So what about you? How’s the packing and . . . all that?”
“Mostly done.”
“Oh.”
She wished she hadn’t brought up packing. It was so good to hear Ben’s voice that she wanted to pretend, just for a few minutes, that he wasn’t moving away.
She took a deep breath. “So I actually called for a reason. Tom and Everett got married last week. They eloped, but they’re going to have a reception—this Saturday at two o’clock. Would you like to be my plus one?”
There was a short silence.
“I’d love to, Jess—but that’s the day I’m flying to Chicago. My plane leaves at three.”
Of course it did. The universe was obviously telling her that it would be better for everyone concerned if she didn’t see Ben in person again.
“Well,” she said. “That’s too bad. Not that you’re going to Chicago,” she added quickly. “Of course I’m happy about that.”
“I know.”
He did? What did that mean?
Probably nothing of significance. But now that she knew this was their last conversation before he moved away, everything seemed significant.
There was another silence, longer this time.
“I guess I should say good night,” she said finally. “It’s getting late.”
“Yeah.” Ben paused. “Good night, Jess.”
“Good night.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
On his last night in New York, Ben took a taxi to Jessica’s neighborhood. He knew he was drifting into stalking territory, but he couldn’t seem to help himself.
It wasn’t like it could turn into a habit, though. He was leaving for Chicago tomorrow.
So he gave in to his desire to be near Jessica for a few hours. There was a restaurant across the street from her place, and he took an outdoor table.
Her lights were on and she was home. Every so often he saw her pass in front of the big bay window of her living room.
There was nothing stopping him from knocking on her door and seeing her in person. Nothing except the fact that if he saw her, he would tell her he loved her . . . and beg her to come to Chicago with him.
If he could be absolutely certain she would say no, he might do it. But what if she said yes?
She was starting to do work she enjoyed. Work she was passionate about. She was seeing a therapist, and she’d told her parents about the abuse she’d survived as a child.
The only thing he could accomplish by telling her how he felt was to disrupt all of that.
If she returned his feelings and agreed to come to Chicago with him, he’d be taking her away from her base of strength and the network of support she was building for herself in New York. If he offered to turn down the Chicago job and stay here in the city, she’d blame herself if things didn’t work out between them.
And if she didn’t return his feelings, she’d feel guilty for hurting him.
There was no good outcome here. Not for him, and not for her.
He ordered some appetizers so he could justify sitting at the table, but he wasn’t hungry.
He was, however, thirsty.
He’d already had a few beers with Jamal and some other colleagues that afternoon at their favorite bar.
“You know if things don’t work out in Chicago you can come back, right?” Jamal had asked. “They haven’t filled your position yet. They’ll be using substitutes for the first semester—and for two other openings, too. It’s hard to find teachers these days.”
“So you expect me to fail at the new job, huh?”
Jamal had grinned at him. “Nope. You’ve never failed at anything, Ben. But if you become a Bulls fan, I will fly out there and kick your ass.”
“That will never happen. I’ll risk life and limb by wearing my Knicks hat around town.”
“That’s the spirit. Barkeep, another round!”
That had been a couple of hours ago. Now he ordered a half bottle of wine to go with the appetizers he wasn’t eating, because it was the kind of drink you could linger over and it wasn’t hard liquor.
But it turned out that wine was just as effective at getting you drunk as scotch or vodka.
He looked up from his third glass just as Jessica passed in front of the window again.
It had been a mistake to drink. The strongest effect it was having was to shake his defenses against the need and desire that had taken hold of him.
When the bottle was empty, he decided to call it a night. He reached into his pocket for his wallet, noticing as he did so that his phone was vibrating.
It was Jessica.
He stared at the phone for a long moment. Then he turned it off, dropped bills on the table to cover his tab, and crossed the street to her apartment.
Ben wasn’t answering his phone.
Maybe it was just as well. She didn’t have a good reason for calling . . . she just wanted to hear his voice.
But she should get used to Ben not being in her life. He hadn’t been for a long time, so why was it so impossible to imagine now? To come to terms with his move to Chicago?
After years of estrangement they’d had one week together, followed by six weeks of separation. How had that one week become so central to her very existence? How had it worked its way into her heart like this?
Her intercom buzzed. “Yes?”
“It’s me, Jess.”
An electric feeling went through her. She buzzed him in without a word and opened her door to wait for him.
The elevator doors opened and Ben was there. He stared at her like he was trying to memorize her face, and there was so much intensity and turmoil in his expression that she took a step back.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“I can’t stop thinking about you.”
His voice was rough. Words and tone together sent shockwaves through her system, and her heart began to pound.
She retreated back into her apartment and he followed, closing the door behind them.
He’d been drinking; she could see that. She remembered their first night in Bermuda, when alcohol had given her the courage to kiss Ben.
What did Ben need borrowed courage to do?
Would he ask her to come with him to Chicago? If he did, what would she say?
But he didn’t ask her anything. He closed the space between them and backed her against the wall, bracing his arms on either side of her.
“I’m leaving tomorrow,” he said.
“I know,” she said, her voice trembling.
“You can kick me out if you want to.”
“Why would I want to?”
“Because I came here to sleep with you one last time, and that’s a shitty thing for a man to do.”
For a long moment they stared at each other, his brown eyes looking deep into her blue ones. Then she reached up and grabbed the lapels of his shirt.
“Ben?”
“Yeah?”
“Kiss me.”
The kiss was different from any they’d shared in Bermuda. Hotter, darker, more desperate. She could taste wine on his tongue as he explored her mouth with carnal intensity, and it went to her head as though she’d been drinking, too.
He broke the kiss to fasten his mouth on he
r neck, biting and sucking as though he wanted to consume her. She let her head fall back to give him better access, moaning as waves of sensation overwhelmed her.
Suddenly he stopped. He was panting, like she was, and the ragged sound of their breathing was the only thing breaking the silence.
After a moment he pulled back, looking into her eyes again. “There’s something else I want to do. Something I have no right to do.”
“What?”
“I want to make love to you in your bed. I want to make it so good for you that you won’t forget me. I’m a selfish bastard, Jess, and I want you to think about me after I’m gone.”
She shook her head slowly, keeping her eyes on his. “Do you honestly think I won’t? I’ve thought of you every single night since we got back from Bermuda. I’ve made myself come thinking about you. You’ve been in my bed a hundred times.”
He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against hers. “Will you let me in again?”
She grabbed his hand and pulled him down the hall toward her bedroom.
“Yes.”
Once they were on her bed, they pulled each other’s clothes off with frantic urgency, so hungry to be skin-to-skin they ripped fabric and tore buttons.
She almost sobbed aloud when she finally felt his naked body against hers, his chest flattening her breasts and their legs tangled together.
“I need you inside me,” she gasped. “Please, Ben—”
He rolled away from her to reach down to where his pants lay in a crumpled heap. He found his wallet, pulled out a condom, and tore it open with his teeth.
In the next instant he was sheathed and crouching over her like an animal. She threw her legs open and grabbed his upper arms, marveling at the heavy bands of muscle that bunched under her hands.
“Please,” she said again. “Please—”
He didn’t make her wait any longer. He thrust inside her with a growl, deep and hard and perfect.
She wrapped her legs around his waist as he drove into her again and again. His pace was relentless, almost savage, and her orgasm came on her like an ocean wave in the dark. She cried out, every muscle in her body tightening, and then Ben was calling out her name as he came, too, his body pulsing inside hers.
“Wow,” she said after what seemed like a long time.
Ben rolled onto his side, keeping their bodies connected as he held her close.
“Wow is right,” he said. He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her lips. “God, you’re incredible.”
She shook her head. “I was just trying to keep up. You’re like a force of nature.”
“A force of nature, huh? I like that.”
She wished they could stay in each other’s arms forever. But life goes on and condoms have to be thrown away, and after Ben went to the bathroom and came back the mood between them changed. He got into bed beside her and held her again, but there was a new constraint between them.
She knew what was wrong—with her, anyway. The words I love you were lodged in her throat, aching to be spoken, and the desire to speak warred with the need to stay silent.
Finally she couldn’t take it anymore.
“You probably have to be up early tomorrow,” she said.
Ben propped himself up on one elbow and looked at her. “Do you want me to leave?”
She couldn’t meet his eyes. “It’s not that. I mean . . . I wish you could stay.” She swallowed. “But you’re leaving tomorrow, and having you here . . .” Her lips trembled. “It’s hard.”
He nodded slowly. “Okay,” was all he said. But when he leaned down and kissed her, slow and deep and sweet, he seemed to be trying to communicate something without words.
Maybe it was the same thing she couldn’t say.
After he was gone and she was once again alone, she walked slowly from the living room to her bedroom doorway. She stood there for a long moment, staring at the crumpled bed sheets and wondering if they smelled like Ben. Then she went to her dresser, opened her jewelry box, and took out the dolphin necklace she’d worn every day since he’d given it to her.
She took it off every night before she went to sleep. But tonight she would sleep naked with that charm against her heart, wrapped in the sheets that smelled like the man she loved.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
It would be nice if you got a two-bedroom apartment,” his mother said. “For when you have guests.”
Ben spread cream cheese on his bagel. He was at his parents’ Upper East Side apartment for a goodbye-and-good-luck breakfast before heading to the airport.
“We’ll see what I can afford. How often are you planning to visit me?”
“Do I need to remind you that you’re our only child?”
“Uh-huh. So, a couple times a year?”
She glared at him and he held out his hands. “I’m teasing. You guys will be welcome whenever you come.”
The truth was, he was going to miss his parents a lot more than he’d ever let on.
“I still don’t understand why you’re going,” his mother said plaintively.
“Because I want to make a difference in people’s lives,” he explained patiently. “This program in Chicago will reach a lot of at-risk kids, and I’d like to be a part of it.”
They’d had this conversation on a regular basis ever since he’d told his parents about the new job. His mother was nothing if not persistent, and she didn’t respond well to the “asked and answered” objection to a line of questioning.
“But you’re already making a difference. You make a difference here. I thought you loved your job.”
“I do. That’s not the point.”
His mother glanced at his father, who was consuming lox and capers in a detached manner with his eyes on his Wall Street Journal. “Feel free to jump in anytime, Seth.”
“If Ben wants to go to Chicago, he can go to Chicago.” He turned a page. “Horrible winters, though.”
Abandoning her husband as an ally, his mother turned back to him with a sigh. “I thought Jessica might give you a reason to stay. After you went to Bermuda with her I was sure you’d come back a couple. I still can’t believe nothing happened between you.”
They’d had this conversation before, too, a week or so after he came back. But that time, he’d been ready for his mother’s questions and his guard had been up.
This time, he wasn’t ready.
He could feel his face flushing a deep red. His jaw tensed and he gripped the knife in his right hand with so much intensity that his knuckles turned white.
He couldn’t meet his mother’s eyes. Hoping that her eagle-eyed gaze had, for once, been looking elsewhere, he took a deep breath and forced himself to relax.
“Benjamin Taggart!”
So much for hoping.
“Look, Mom. Whatever you’re thinking, just—”
She rapped her knuckles sharply on the table in front of him. “Did something happen between you and Jessica? Yes or no.”
He opened his mouth to deny it. But then, unexpectedly, all the fight went out of him.
“Yeah,” he said, slumping back in his chair. “It did.”
Silence.
He waited for his mother to say something. To ask something. To demand further information.
But the first person who spoke was his father.
“Ben. Do you mean to say that you’re involved with Jessica Bullock?”
His mother, as surprised as he was, turned her head to stare at her husband. “Seth! You don’t have a problem with Jessica, do you? She’s a lovely girl.”
His father frowned. “I know she’s a lovely girl. That’s precisely my point. She’s been through enough without Ben hurting her, too.”
That stung. “I would never hurt Jessica. I—” He stopped.
Now his mother was staring at him. “Oh my goodness. I don’t believe it.”
He looked at her warily. “What?”
“You’re in love with her. You’re in love with Jessica Bullock.”
He started to deny it, but once again the denial stuck in his throat.
He threw up his hands in defeat.
“Okay, fine. You want to hear me say it? I’m in love with Jessica. Madly, passionately, head-over-heels in love with her. But her life is here and I’m moving to Chicago, so there’s no happily-ever-after to this story.”
He fully expected his mother to launch into a rebuttal of biblical proportions. But once again, it was his father who spoke.
“Listen to me, Son.” His father closed his paper and folded it, laying it down on the table and leaning toward him. “I stopped giving you advice a long time ago. You made it clear from the age of five that you don’t want or need it. All your life you’ve trusted your instincts and followed your heart, and it’s worked out okay.”
For his father that was high praise.
“You chose the career you wanted, and I’m proud of what you’ve accomplished. But the one thing you’ve never done is make your own happiness a priority. And you know what? That’s a mistake. You want to help kids, right? You want to make a difference. Well, if I’ve learned anything in life it’s this. The best way to help other people is to be happy yourself. And if you have a chance to do that here in New York, you’d be crazy to pass it up. Jessica’s a girl in a million, and you know what I think? I think you’ve been in love with her for years.” He paused for a moment. “You’ll always do the work you love, Ben. You’ll find a way to help kids whether you’re here or in Chicago. But if you think you’ll find another woman like Jessica someplace else, you’re sadly mistaken.”
His father hadn’t made a speech that long in years.
Ben scrubbed at his face with his hands. “You think I don’t know that? But Jessica’s the one I’m thinking about. She’s going through a lot right now. If I change my mind about the Chicago job and stay here because of her, she’ll feel responsible for that decision. That puts a hell of a lot of pressure on her.”
His father spoke again. “A woman who can show up at her wedding reception after her fiancé leaves her for another man has the balls—metaphorically speaking—to handle pressure. Don’t underestimate her, Ben. And don’t make this decision because of what you think she can or can’t deal with. That part’s up to her. Make this decision the way you’ve always made your decisions. With your heart.”
Anything But Love Page 18
