This Is 35

by Stacey Wiedower

  Melody was petite, even shorter than Erin's own five feet six inches. She couldn't have forced tall, broad-shouldered Ben into anything. Erin shook her head, unable to produce an image that made sense. She inched back toward the center of the bed.

  "Explain," she said. She leaned over and flipped on the other lamp and then reached for her T-shirt, which had landed at the foot of their bed, and pulled it over her head. She shivered at the late-night chill of the room.

  Ben nodded, his face pale beneath his tan. He licked his lips and thought carefully before he spoke. "First, let me say I did a stupid, stupid thing," he said.

  Erin tensed but bit her tongue. She tried not to visualize any of the stupid, stupid things her brain was conjuring up that could make her husband look this shaken.

  "I went to her room." His eyes were squeezed shut, so he didn't see Erin's jaw go slack. She held her breath, her stomach in another free fall. But he said nothing happened. She chanted it silently as she studied him. Nothing happened. Nothing happened.

  But something had happened.

  "And?" she prompted. She waited another second and then added, "Why did you go to her room?"

  Ben opened his eyes again, and they were wary. "Like I said, it was stupid, OK?" He rubbed his eyes with the back of one hand, a gesture he made when he was agitated. "She texted me and said the zipper of her suitcase was stuck. She asked me to come up and see if I could get it open." He pushed up from the bed suddenly and reached around Erin, grabbing his phone off his nightstand. "I can show you the texts if you want to see them."

  Erin put a hand on his arm, pressing the phone away. "Just tell me what happened."

  He nodded and gulped, making the pool of terror in her stomach expand. What the hell? If he hadn't cheated on her, what could possibly have him this rattled?

  He looked down at her. Ben was sitting on top of the mess of covers with his legs sprawled out in front of him. Erin was next to him, sitting ramrod straight in the center of the bed, her legs folded underneath her. The two of them weren't touching.

  "I know now it sounds bad, but to be honest I didn't think that much about it. I texted back 'OK, I'll help. What room?' or something like that." He glanced disgustedly at the phone in his hands as if it were the guilty party.

  Erin nodded, encouraging him, holding her breath. When he didn't continue she blew it out. "And?" She held out her hands, palms up. "What happened next?"

  He'd closed his eyes again. "God," he said. "I still can't believe she did this."

  "What?" At this point the thin line of Erin's patience was snapping in half. Her head felt like a kettle on the verge of spewing out steam, boiling hot and filled with pressure. "What happened?" Her voice was an octave higher than normal and didn't sound like it was coming from her.

  Ben opened his eyes, rattled by her reaction. "She texted me her room number, and I went and knocked on her door. She was a few floors above me, on the same floor as Eddie and Blake, I think. I didn't stop to wonder why she hadn't asked one of them. Or called the front desk or something."

  Erin lunged toward him, placing a hand on his bare leg. "Benjamin Michael Bertram, if you don't tell me this second what happened, I swear I'm getting up and walking out of this house."

  "It's embarrassing," he said. "Give me a break, OK? It's damned embarrassing."

  Oh. Erin leaned back, not expecting that. Embarrassing she could handle, especially when the word she'd imagined was incriminating. Her internal rage simmered to a boiling curiosity. What the hell had The Nemesis done now?

  She bit her tongue to keep from talking and watched him. He looked so uncomfortable that she uncurled her legs, finally stretching out of her tense position. She scooted toward him until they were touching, her knees against his thigh.

  "You can tell me anything," she said. "You know this. And I do trust you, Ben."

  He nodded miserably, his shoulders slumped in defeat. "I knocked on her door."

  Erin sucked in a sharp breath, knowing this was the part that had him so shaken up. She kept her eyes fixed on his.

  "And when it opened, there was nobody there." His voice was barely above a whisper. Erin was confused but kept her mouth shut.

  "So I walked inside and called out her name. The door clicked shut, and I turned around, and…"

  He stopped and drew in a sharp breath.

  Erin waited, her eyes big as quarters. "And?" she breathed.

  "And there she was, standing right behind me," he said. "Completely naked."

  Erin's eyes bugged. This was Melody's tactic for stealing someone else's husband? She supposed she shouldn't be surprised. The woman was a walking M3 battle tank, relentless when she wanted something done. Why should it be any different when the thing she wanted done was herself?

  Erin winced at the image behind her eyes—as bad as anything her brain had conjured up at the start of this conversation. Worse. She gulped and managed to gasp out, "Oh, God."

  Ben, to his credit, was still looking her straight in the eye. "I know," he said in defeat. And then in a whisper, "There's more."

  Erin's stomach didn't plunge this time. Her emotions were too frayed. Conflicting desires to shake him, yell at him, or soothe him like a child warred within her, but she stayed stock still.

  "What? What happened next?"

  "I'm so sorry, E," Ben said. His expression was tragic and terrified. Inches from her face and before Erin could react, he continued, "She kissed me. Before I could even move, before I could ask what she was trying to pull, she flung herself into me, practically clawed up my body, and kissed me full on the mouth. I didn't even see it coming."

  Every nerve ending in Erin's body went dead at once. She'd been trying not to form a mental picture, but she couldn't help it. Couldn't help but play a vivid mental clip of Melody's toned, naked body wrapped around her husband, Melody's fishy, buggy eyes sliding shut as she slipped her snake-like tongue inside Ben's mouth.

  She felt like gagging.

  This was so much worse than what had happened with Leo. So much the same but so much worse. Erin remained still, her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to block the disgusting picture from her brain. "Did you kiss her back?" she whispered, afraid to hear any more but also afraid not to know what happened next.

  "No." Ben's voice was aghast.

  She peered at him, knowing he was telling the truth. "Well, what happened next?"

  Ben took a deep breath, seeming to relax a tiny bit now that the giant weight was off his chest. "I peeled her off of me," he said sheepishly. "I turned around and told her I didn't know what on earth she was thinking but that I was married, and we work together, and she was completely out of line."

  "And then did you leave?"

  He looked sheepish again. "I tried to, but she was blocking the door. Also, she was drunk. Really, really drunk. That was obvious when she kissed me."

  Erin shook her head, hating to hear those words in that combination. If she never heard Ben utter the words "she kissed me" again in her lifetime, she'd have lived a good life.

  "So what did you do?" She was surprised that instead of feeling furious, she was growing less upset by degrees. Very, very minute degrees.

  "Well." He rubbed his eyes again. "I backed away from her. Since she was up against the door, I backed into her room and looked for something to cover her up with. I didn't see a robe or anything, so I grabbed that bedspread thing that goes over just the foot of the bed. By the time I pulled it off and turned around, she was right there again, trying to, I don't know, rub up against me, or seduce me, or whatever." His face was beet red.

  Erin's anger flared back up but quickly fizzled out again. This was so pathetic, so very sad, that she almost, almost felt some sympathy for Melody along with her rage. Almost.

  "Did she kiss you again?" Her body tensed as she waited for the answer.

  "No," Ben said, and Erin went limp as a deflated balloon. She pulled her legs in toward her chest and rested her cheek against her knees, listening.


  "She'd lost the element of surprise, so I was ready to head her off this time. I tried to drape that blanket thing over her, but it was too long and skinny to do any good. I've never understood what those things are for, anyway."

  "Focus, Ben," Erin mumbled into her kneecap. "What happened next?"

  He sighed, long and heavy.

  "Like I said, she was tanked. Wasted. I didn't think I should just walk out and leave her like that, but I didn't want her to think I was giving her an invitation, either. And obviously I couldn't get help from anybody else on the team."

  "What about Nate?"

  "Nate wasn't on this trip, remember? He was holding the fort at the lab."

  "Oh, yeah." Erin lifted her head and peered up at him. "So what did you do?"

  "When the blanket thing didn't work, I saw her suitcase on the luggage stand—open, of course. There was nothing wrong with the zipper."

  Erin smiled despite herself…a tiny, sardonic smile, more of a twitch.

  "I walked over and pulled the first thing out of it I saw, some dress-type thing, and I handed it to her. She wasn't in any shape to get herself dressed, though." He paused and gritted his teeth. "And so I pulled the thing over her head and dressed her like a damn baby."

  Erin gaped at him. "And she let you?"

  Tentatively, he reached an arm out and slid it around Erin's torso, pulling her toward him. She didn't protest, unlocking her arms from around her knees and leaning into his chest.

  "She was really upset by this point," he said. "She was crying. I didn't know what to do, to be honest with you. But yes, she let me help her get dressed. And then I helped her get in bed, and I covered her up, and then I left."

  "Damn," Erin said.

  "Yeah. Damn." He leaned backward into the pillows, pulling Erin with him. She twisted her body so their faces were centimeters from each other. "And when I went back to my room, I called Delta and rescheduled my flight." He paused. "And now you know everything."

  Erin bit her lip. "I'm so sorry," she said.

  He huffed a small laugh. "You're sorry?" he said. "I'm the one who's sorry. I never should have put myself in that situation. I walked right into a trap. I never in a thousand years would have thought she'd do something like this."

  "It's because you don't have a woman's intuition," Erin said. "I wouldn't have thought she'd do this, but I knew she'd eventually try something." She paused. "Is it bitchy for me to say I told you so?"

  He chuckled again, a hard sound. "I guess I deserve it."

  She thought of something. "So you haven't talked to Melody since then?"

  Ben shook his head. "I don't even know if she's back home or still there."

  "Are you going to report her?"

  "Report her?" Ben's forehead wrinkled.

  "For harassment," Erin said. "Like you wanted me to do with Leo. What Melody did is a much clearer case of sexual harassment than what Leo did to me."

  As she was talking, Ben was already shaking his head. "Nah," he said. "I don't know what's going to happen—I mean, things are bound to be awkward between us, but I don't know what good that would do. She's already punished herself enough just by doing what she did. I don't know how the hell she's ever going to look at me again."

  Erin's eyes narrowed. She knew Melody, and she doubted the woman was that upset or chastened by her own behavior. "What if she tries something else? Or what if she punishes you at work somehow? She is technically your superior."

  "Nah," he said again. "She's not going to do anything."

  Erin pursed her lips, thinking how much easier men had it than women in this situation. Ben didn't have to fear, as Erin did, getting cornered in a dark room and being overpowered by Melody. But to think the woman wouldn't retaliate in any way for Ben's rejection was naïve.

  "I think you should report her," she said.

  "No," Ben said more firmly. "Besides, you never reported Leo."

  She glared at him. "That was a very different situation. He never bothered me again."

  "And Melody is never going to bother me again, either."

  She pushed away from him, sensing they were at an impasse. He reached toward her to keep her from going, but she scooted off the bed and went into the bathroom, expecting him to follow. When she came back several minutes later, having washed her face, brushed her teeth, and finished getting dressed—with a side goal of letting her irritation with Ben's obtuse stubbornness fade—Ben was softly snoring. He was sound asleep.

  * * *

  "Ready for your big night?"

  Ben's voice behind Erin made her jump. For a minute she'd forgotten he was here. He hadn't gone into the lab today but had taken the entire day off to help her get ready for the premiere party.

  He was sucking up.

  "Not one teeny, tiny, little bit." She didn't turn from the window. The rain that had held off yesterday was coming down today in drizzly spurts. Their gray, gloomy yard and the street beyond looked about as festive as she felt.

  Ben walked up behind her and put both hands on her hips, planting a kiss at her right temple. Erin melted for a few seconds and then tensed up, the mental pictures that had kept her awake most of the night flooding her mind again.

  She subtly extracted herself from his arms, her mind already spinning to the next thing she needed to do. A twinge of impatience hit when Ben trailed her from the room. She didn't have time to deal with him fawning over her right now, with him apologizing again for something he hadn't done wrong, something he couldn't control. Nor did she have time yet to process what had happened. It still felt like a kick in the windpipe, especially knowing he was leaving again in two days, that there was nothing she could do about it.

  "Aww, come on," Ben said, following her down the hall. "Surely you're at least a little excited. You're on a national TV show. Of which you're going to be the star." He pinched her butt, a move that was becoming his signature. It made Erin think of her mom and dad, their goofy little gestures of affection that they'd never hidden from her.

  She squealed and swatted his hand away, smiling in spite of herself.

  "Cut that out." She didn't actually want to turn into her parents, much as she loved them.

  And that thought reminded her that Bob and Joanne would be ringing the doorbell in a little over an hour, along with twenty or so of Ben and Erin's friends. She moved toward the living room, just wanting to forget everything he'd told her about what had happened in Fort Myers, at least for the next few hours. It was hard to do when he stared at her like a guilt-stricken puppy who'd chewed up her favorite shoes. She shook her head.

  "I'm not starring in anything," she said. "It's a reality show. I'm only a participant. Sort of."

  "You're only the creator," Ben amended her. "Or the inspiration, at least."

  Leo had said something similar to her a few months earlier, and Erin cringed at the memory. No matter where she tried to put her head, it landed in places she didn't want it to go, on people she didn't want to think about. Her marriage right now was a mental minefield. And no matter how much she wanted to deny it, tonight's premiere would bring Leo's presence back into her life. In the last eight weeks, she'd managed to soothe herself into believing she'd never have to deal with him again, but of course that wasn't true. In just a few hours his handiwork would take center stage on the sixty-inch flat screen in her living room.

  A jolt of nervousness shuddered down her spine. Since Jarvis had cut her out of the meetings and editing sessions on segments that included her own scenes, she had no idea how the show was using her footage. That was just one factor behind her jitters. That and the fact that soon guests would start to arrive.

  "Hey, can you get the drinks set up in the kitchen? Just find those purple buckets in the storage closet in the garage and set them out, and make sure we've got enough beer. And then do you mind running to Gloria's to pick up the catering trays? Oh, and grab a couple bags of ice, too."

  Erin talked over her shoulder, still not really lookin
g at him as Ben followed her through the living room into the kitchen. The counters were covered in snacks and baked goods, the fridge full of drinks. Joanne was bringing her signature hot chicken, and Sherri was stopping to grab Bob Armstrong dip from Mattito's—Erin's mouth was already watering for it.

  "Sure, no problem."

  Ben walked past her as Erin picked up a stack of magazines to dump in the recycle bin unread—she hadn't had time to get to them in the past two months.

  Since returning from L.A., Erin had been to New York twice, once to shoot stills for a season promo and again for a lifestyle segment on TODAY where she also promoted the show. Between those trips, she'd gone back to L.A. for a one-day press junket and done multiple interviews and TV spots at home in Dallas, including a "Women to Watch" profile for Texas Lifestyles magazine.

  In the midst of all that craziness, she'd been stressed about her list. Her thirty-fourth birthday had come and gone, and with less than six months to go, she was only on list item 22. A few of the coming items were highly doable—clean out her wardrobe, start a compost bin—but others were intimidating. Visit Stonehenge? How the heck was she supposed to take a pleasure trip to England with the show starting to air? Before she knew it, another birthday would be here, and she'd be opening the door and staring down the long hallway of middle age.

  She squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to breathe in through her nose and out through her mouth, five deep inhalations and five deep exhalations, just the way her yoga teacher intoned during the lessons she didn't have time to attend.

  Erin gave up halfway through. She didn't have time for this breathing crap, either.

  At least she was knocking off a list item today. She was doing what she could. She'd hung the streamers, plopped out a prized stack of Madonna paper plates she'd scored at the party store, and artfully arranged the '80s-themed baked goods. Even though she was preoccupied about Ben and too busy to breathe, she had to admit that planning the party had been fun. And, thank God, the pictures alone would make a good blog post.