Gretchen’s hands cover her heart. “That’s the sweetest thing.”
It really was. That was the first time I thought maybe I wasn’t unlovable. It was irrational to ever think it anyway, but when your wife leaves because your injury is so repulsive, you start to wonder.
Even now, there are times I question how any woman can look at me and not be repulsed.
Then I think about how Gretchen looks at me and I start to hope again.
“Well, there’s at least one girl who loves me.”
Her lips purse. “What happened with your wife?”
My hand grips the back of my neck and I try to squeeze the tension.
“You don’t have to tell me, but...”
“No, there’s not much to tell. I got injured and when I came back, she was different. It was like my injury destroyed the vision she had. Charity was vain, selfish, and wanted the glory that she got by saying she was a SEAL wife. I didn’t see it before we were married or maybe I didn’t want to. Our divorce was ugly, like her personality, and I haven’t heard from her since.”
“She left you because you were injured?” There’s no mistaking the disgust in her voice. “Seriously? Were you mean when you got back? Or maybe something else because that is—horrible.”
I wish I was mean. Before I was sent back to the States, I actually had a very long talk with the Chaplain. He explained that a lot of marriages and relationships suffer after injury and why. We spoke about how to channel the anger into the rehab and not at the people who loved and cared for me. Charity never saw my despair. I hid it, kept it buried, and did exactly what he said when it came to exerting my energy in the right places. Turned out it didn’t matter because my wife didn’t care regardless.
“Some people show their true colors after the ink is dried,” I say with a sneer.
“I think your ex and Harold could be long-lost cousins.”
I laugh once. “Probably. Maybe we could set them up.”
“Can I ask you something else?”
“Anything.”
For some reason, talking about this with Gretchen doesn’t hurt as much as it usually does. I want to be open with her, tell her the truth, and I crave the same with her. I want her to trust and bare her soul to me. Which is fucking ridiculous because we’re not the same people as we were almost twenty years ago. Things have changed, appendages lost, time slipped away and I’d be a fool to think there’s a chance here.
“Do you think I’m an idiot?”
Her question stuns me. “What?”
Gretchen tucks a blonde strand behind her ear. “For living the way I did, agreeing to marry a man who kept me hidden. When I say all of it out loud, I feel like such a dumbass. I’m not a stupid person, but when it came to him, I was.”
I hate that she thinks she has the blame on this. He was the fucking idiot, not her.
“You’re no more of an idiot than I am for trusting my ex-wife. We’re the ones better off without them. If they didn’t leave us then we wouldn’t be sitting here right now.”
Her voice is soft and wistful. “And that would be sad for both of us. I’m much happier...right now, with you, than not...”
We both move closer, almost like magnets that can’t stop ourselves. With each breath, our bodies pull nearer.
“I missed you when I was gone, which is crazy, right?”
She shakes her head. “No. I missed you too.”
My gaze drops to her lips and I can feel her breath as we both breathe harder. “I think about you all the time,” I confess.
Gretchen’s hand reaches out, touching my cheek. “Ben?”
“Yes?”
Her chest rises and falls, the questions swirling in her eyes. “Shut up and kiss me.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
And then my lips are on hers and my heart in her hands.
Chapter Twelve
Gretchen
My phone rings and Ashton’s face pops on.
“Hey,” I say as I grab my bag, rushing out of the house.
Ben and I have a date. One that I planned and I need to get supplies. Instead of going out, I’m going to cook for him and hopefully much more than that.
“Hello to you too, remember me? Your best friend in Jersey?”
“How could I ever forget?”
“Well, according to Liam and Quinn, you’ve been rather busy with a very handsome man.”
Damn it. My cheeks burn even though no one can see. Last night was incredible. A lot of walls were brought down, but having Natalie and Liam walk in to Ben and me making out on their couch wasn’t the highlight of my life.
They thought it was hilarious, but I was mortified.
“Can no one keep secrets?”
She laughs. “Not in that group.”
“Quinn, huh?”
“Don’t try to change the subject.”
Ashton is relentless when there’s information she wants. “Okay, here’s the Cliffnotes. Ben and I went on a fake date which turned into more of a real date than I think either of us expected. Then I kissed him because I can’t seem to stop myself and after that we were babysitting and I asked him to kiss me. There you go.”
“So you like him?” she asks with a softness to her voice.
“I do. Which is a little crazy, right?”
“Why? You were with a guy who was unworthy for so long, Gretch. You deserve to have some fun and if Ben is just that, then okay. If it’s more, even better.”
“But,” I sigh, knowing this is a bad thing to admit. “What about my list? Ben doesn’t really fit in since he doesn’t want kids. He has no intention of ever getting married again thanks to his shrew of an ex-wife. I don’t want to make the same mistakes I made with Harold by trying to fit him into something he doesn’t want to do.”
I think that’s where my fault lies. I wanted to get married, have kids, and follow what I thought was a brilliant plan. By doing that, I was so hellbent on that timeline that I didn’t see Harold wasn’t the right guy to plug in. He told me, showed me a million times but I couldn’t accept it.
His epiphany might have hurt in the worst way, but had I paid more attention, I would’ve seen it coming a mile away.
“Oh, Jesus Christ!”
“No, listen, I know you think it’s stupid and my lists are dumb, but they keep me grounded.”
I can picture Ashton banging her head on something. “Gretchen, for the love of God, lists are great for grocery shopping, but not life! Who fucking cares if he never wants to get married or have kids? Nothing is saying you have to have a relationship, just have some damn fun.”
“That’s the thing. I need my list because the truth is, I don’t care about any of that when I’m with him. I don’t know that I can just have fun with him! I don’t know if I can walk away...”
Ashton falls silent. After a few seconds her voice is calming and almost sad. “You like him.”
And that’s the problem. I like men who don’t want the same things as me and in the end I’ll be the one disappointed. “More than I should.”
“Then just feel it. Allow yourself whatever comes because in my expert opinion, that doesn’t happen often and to those few that have felt it...they’re all exactly where they should be.”
I think of Catherine and Jackson, Natalie and Liam, Mark and Charlie. All of them found someone they didn’t expect or hope to find and they’re blissfully happy.
“And if he ends up hurting me?”
“You’ll survive it. You’re strong, beautiful, resilient, and you’re smart as hell. Any man who walks away from you is a fucking idiot.”
I laugh. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
Ashton snorts. “Please, I’m a fucking headcase. I can’t figure out what I want, who I should be with, all I know is that I want a family. I want to have babies and love but I can’t seem to find anyone who wants to share that life with me.”
I feel bad for her. She’s been in love with Quinn Miller for the last two years. Whet
her she wants to admit it or not. His life just isn’t built for long distance and she won’t give her career up. It’s the one thing she has control over and Ashton needs that. They’re at a stalemate and until one of them is willing to bend, they’re just breaking.
“Quinn loves you, Ash,” I defend him. Quinn definitely wasn’t my favorite person in the beginning, but I think it was just the definition of their relationship that I struggled with. They had some weird agreement where they could live how they wanted when they were apart, but nothing serious. I’m not a traditionalist, I mean, I was fucking my boss in secret for years, but still. It was just too...weird.
The more time I was around Quinn and Ashton as a couple, the more I got it. It was the only way they could reconcile their feelings. By allowing each other freedom, they were able to find a way to make it work, until recently.
“I know he does. Even if he doesn’t know he does. It doesn’t matter, though. None of it does if we can’t find a way to be together. He has the military and I have my job. He’s deploying in a week anyway, so there’s no finding a way.”
I hear the pain in her voice and decide to let it drop. “I get it.”
“Anyway, we’re talking about you and Ben.”
“No, we’re done talking about that.”
“Answer me this.” She pauses. “If Ben fit on your list, would you date him?”
“Without question.”
“Then write a new list.”
* * * *
Ben is on his way. He should be here in about ten minutes and I’m staring at my notepad. On top is my header: Gretchen’s Life List.
Under that...it’s blank.
For the first time in my adult life, I don’t know what to write.
I don’t have a plan or an idea on where to go. There are no rules right now. I can do anything, live anywhere and choose something other than what I always thought.
Some might feel very liberated. I feel like I can’t breathe. The lack of order isn’t welcome.
A year ago, my list was solid and workable. Now, there’s too much uncertainty. Is marriage even what I want? Then there’s the fact that all I keep thinking about is Ben. Each time I go to write, he is the first thing I want to put down, which is fucking insane.
Harold never made my list. He was just who was going to fill in that slot.
A knock at the door causes me to jump.
“Shit,” I mutter, pushing the book under some papers so he doesn’t see it, and I try to collect myself as I walk to the door.
I close my eyes, hand on the door handle, release a deep breath, and smile. “Hey,” I say as I open it.
“Hello, gorgeous.” Ben’s deep voice washes over me. “These are for you.”
In his hand is a beautiful bouquet of daisies.
Daisies. “How did you...?”
“Are they not your favorite anymore?”
“They are, but I can’t believe you remembered.”
Ben looks at me like I’m a wounded animal. “Why wouldn’t I?”
Because it’s been so long. Because my stupid fiancé didn’t even know daisies were my favorite. Each year, I’d get lilies or roses as he’d tell me he knew how much I loved them—which I didn’t. I hate lilies. They’re too strong in fragrance and give me headaches. Roses are pretty, but that’s what you put on a casket. Morbid, I know, but after my Nana passed away, roses became associated with death.
Daisies, though, they’re bright and airy. They’re what little girls pick petals from and dream of love. They make me smile.
“It’s just...very sweet. Thank you, Ben.” I lean up on my very tippy toes and press a kiss to his cheek. “Come in, I made food.”
He looks as though he wants to say more, but he nods and enters the house.
Jackson and Catherine’s place is cute and quaint. It’s a little beach bungalow a few blocks off the beach. They bought it a year ago when Catherine was visiting on one of their walks to the lighthouse. She said it was fate and needed it. Jackson, not being able to ever resist his wife, bought it immediately and spent two weeks fixing it up.
While the size isn’t anything great, it has the most spectacular view of the lighthouse where she fell in love with Jackson Cole.
“I haven’t been here since I got my place,” Ben says as he looks around.
“What do you mean?”
Ben’s smile makes my stomach clench. “I lived here before I found my place. Jackson and Cat sort of use this for the Virginia Beach crew as temporary lodging when we’re not sure we’re staying.”
“But you did.”
He takes a step closer and nods. “I did. Are you planning to?”
My initial though is, yes. Yes. I want to stay. I feel more alive since being here than I have in my whole life. More than that, I want him. I want to know why he was the first thing I kept thinking of when I was going to make my list.
“Do you want me to?”
“Yes.”
There was no hesitation. Instead of asking him the questions that I want to know, I smile and shrug. “Well, I guess we’ll see then.”
“I guess so. It smells good,” Ben says as he lifts his head toward the kitchen.
“Oh shit!” I yell, remembering I have sauce on the stove.
I rush in, praying the bottom didn’t burn. I’ve made my Nana’s sauce a million times and the key is going slow, not rushing, and adding everything in stages. It’s a process. One that I’ve been at since nine this morning. Nana used to tell us that a good sauce was only good if there was love and time put into it, like life.
I used to think she was nuts and beg her to get a jar down to save us all the headache, but she would slap me with the wooden spoon at the mere mention of it. To her, sauce was how she showed her love.
I scrape the bottom, lift the spoon, and almost weep when there’s nothing black or stuck. It would’ve destroyed the entire day’s worth of work.
“Everything okay?”
I smile at him and nod. “Thankfully everything is okay. I’m glad I had the burner on so low.”
“Did you make me Jersey food?”
“I did.”
Ben takes a step closer and wraps me in his big arms. “You’re the best.”
I look up, my arms trapped at my sides. “Well, I figured you’ve been without for a while.”
His arms drop and he kisses my nose as if it’s the most natural thing to do. “I have. Your family always made Sunday my favorite day.”
“They still do that, you know?”
I make my way back over to the pot, dipping in the spoon and tasting it. Perfect.
I turn the burner off and drain the pasta. Once the meal is plated I carry it over to the little table that fits in the corner.
He sits in the chair and shakes his head. “Your family amazes me. Mine was nothing like them.”
“Crazy?”
“Loyal.”
We had very different upbringings. His family barely spoke and really only saw each other on the holidays. Mine is obtrusive and constantly demanding time. Since I’ve moved down here, my mother has been up my cousin’s ass, but leaving me alone. She’s still pissed at me for leaving and also not repenting for my sins.
She drives me nuts.
“Well, they’re also hot-headed and quick to give you the silent treatment.”
“Not how I remember them,” he says with a hint of awe. “They were always the best.”
“They are...when they don’t suck and want to tell you how to live.”
He shoves a bite in his mouth and moans.
“Good?”
Ben nods. “Incredible.”
I beam at the compliment.
We eat, chatting a little about our families, and he laughs hysterically when I recount my mother’s horror at my being a heathen.
“It’s not funny!” I slap his arm playfully.
“It kind of is.”
“She was horrified.”
“I’m more surprised she really beli
eved you were a virgin.” Ben stands, grabbing the plates, and walks over to the sink.
“Well, in her defense, she’d never known anything about Harold and I. So it’s not like she ever saw me with men. I’m sure she thought I wasn’t dating so I couldn’t have sex then. I already told you I didn’t really have dates, flowers, or anything to indicate there was someone special in my life. Then I was engaged and left because clearly I wasn’t worth marrying.”
Ben places the plates down a little too hard and the sound causes me to jump.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
He walks away from the sink and heads right to me. “No.”
“No? What did I say?”
His eyes are filled with anger and I don’t know what I did to upset him. “You said you weren’t worth marrying.”
“Well, it’s true.”
He moves closer and I take a step back. “The fuck it is!”
I don’t know why he’s so upset about this. It’s the truth. I wasn’t worth it to Harold. I wasn’t even worth a real explanation or the respect of doing it until twenty minutes after I should’ve already been saying my vows.
When I start to back away more he grips my arm, pulling me against him, and tilts my head up using his thumb.
Our eyes stay on each other’s as heartbeats pass between us. “You should’ve been given flowers all the time. He should’ve been running to the church to marry you. Not a single minute with you should’ve been taken for granted. There is nothing unworthy about you, babe. Not a single fucking thing. You should’ve been worshiped, adored, and revered.”
My heart pounds so hard in my chest. “And would you have done that?”
His mouth slowly moves toward me. “I would do everything for you.”
Chapter Thirteen
Gretchen
I hear the words, see his mouth move, but I don’t know how to take them in.
“What are you saying?”
Ben starts to lower his mouth to mine. “I’m saying that I want you. I want to love you. I want you to give us a chance and I want you to let me.”
“For how long?” I ask the question because I need to steel myself. “If it’s only for tonight, just tell me.”
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