by AC Netzel
She leans back and looks at me with a grin. “The pasthole was finally good for something.”
I chuckle and nod. “Let’s get out of here.” I hook my arm through hers. “I want to go home and see Ben.”
Chapter 7
My heart skips a beat when I turn the corner on to my parents’ block and spot the welcome sight of Ben’s SUV parked in front of their house. The nauseous feeling I have in my stomach after the run-in with my Ex changes to excited flutters. I laugh at myself when I notice my pace increasing the closer I get. I missed him before I left, but coming face-to-face with my old life, makes me appreciate just how good I have it now and how much I need to see him.
I push open the front door and follow the appetizing aroma of my mother’s cooking and the sound of voices coming from the kitchen. Leaning on the entranceway, I watch my parents and Ben conversing over coffee. My mother plunks a giant slice of leftover bridal shower cake in front of Ben. I know it’s more than he would usually serve himself, but he politely accepts it and digs in, leaving my mother with a satisfied smile. I love how quickly he picked up on how to navigate around my mom and her ‘Need to Feed.’ He indulges her because he loves me.
“I’m back,” I say, walking toward Ben.
He turns and flashes a smile that makes me weak at the knees. Once I’m by his side, he drops his fork and grabs my hand. A small squeal escapes as he tugs at my wrist, pulling me down onto his lap and gives me a quick peck on my lips. I wrap my arms around him and hold him tight. Touching him is my balm, my comfort—home.
“Mmm. Vanilla frosting kiss.”
“Your mother cooked an early dinner for me. We were just getting to dessert.”
“I see that.” I eye the cake slice. “Missed me?”
“Definitely.”
“I missed you too.” I hug him tighter, never wanting to let him go. “So much.” I look up to my parents wearing identical smiles, as Ben snakes his arm around my waist.
“Everything okay?” he asks, studying my face.
“Everything’s great.” Now that I’m with you.
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah.” I smile warmly. “Positive.”
“Are you hungry?” my mom interrupts.
“Not really.” The surprise appearance of my blast from the pasthole rattled away my normally insatiable appetite.
“Okay, I’ll get you a little something.” She stands, ignoring my answer and walks to the stove.
Less than a minute later, she plops down a plate of chicken parmigiana, mashed potatoes, and salad—her version of a little something. I move over to the vacant seat next to Ben. He stretches his arm around back of my chair, his fingers wrapped around my shoulder.
“Where’s Allie?” Ben asks.
“Having an early dinner with her family. I told her I’d text her when we’re done and we’ll pick her up there.”
“Did you find anything at Mrs. Baker’s?” my dad asks.
“No. I’ll go online and order something. We’re running out of time.”
“Perhaps a champagne flute with your initials etched on it?” my mother suggests.
“Why would anybody want something with our initials on it?”
“As a memento of your special day.”
Ben and I side-eye each other. “No, I don’t think so,” I tell her, jamming a forkful of mashed potatoes in my mouth.
“Maybe a keychain with a picture of you and Ben?”
“Seriously, Mom?”
“What? It’s personalized.”
“Ahhh… No. How about chocolates or little cakes or something desserty? It won’t get lost in the back of someone’s junk drawer or thrown out as soon as they pass a garbage can. Everyone likes dessert, right?”
“Cake as a wedding favor? That’s ridiculous,” she scoffs.
“We could go to Clara’s Cupcakes,” Ben adds. “They’re your favorite. They can put them in individual boxes. The bakery near my place does it. I don’t see why Clara’s can’t.”
“What a fabulous idea, Ben,” my mother says, stretching her arm across the table and patting the top of his hand.
I stare at my mother wide-eyed, my mouth agape. “Why is it when I suggest little cakes, you call it ridiculous? When he does, it’s fabulous?”
“I never said your idea was ridiculous.”
“Yes, you did. Two seconds ago. You said that exact word.”
“Nonsense. I never said any such thing.” She waves her hand dismissively and smiles in Ben’s direction.
I turn to Ben. “Didn’t she just say that?”
He holds up his hands in surrender. “I plead the fifth.”
I blow out a frustrated breath. My selective memory disordered mother is a chronic man-coddler. My whole life, she babied my brothers, then my brother-in-law’s, and now Ben.
“Screw you all,” I half-kid. “I’ll ask Hannah at the bakery about it when we get back to the Village.” I grab Ben’s hand and squeeze it. “Do you want to check out the beach before we go?”
“Sure.”
~o0o~
The thunderous roar of the ocean fills the air as high tide rolls in. Ben and I sit on an oversized beach towel and wiggle our toes in the cool sand.
We watch the waves break at the shoreline while two huge seagulls fight over the contents of a broken clam shell that washed ashore.
“Listen to the way they squawk at each other. They sound like my parents when they argue in Italian. Did you hear them before? They were probably rehashing about your brilliant cupcake idea.”
“They weren’t talking about me. They were saying something about your neighbors.”
My brows furrow. “You speak Italian?”
“Enough to get by. I told you, my family owns a home in Tuscany. We went two weeks every summer. My mother forced a language tutor on Elizabeth and me when we were there.”
“How did I not know this?”
“I’m far from fluent. I’ve never had a reason to speak the few words I know.”
“Say something in Italian.”
“Succhiami il cazzo.”
“Was that dirty?”
“Yes.”
“It figures you’d remember the dirty stuff. What kind of tutor taught you that?”
“Learned it on the streets,” he jokes.
“What did you say? No, don’t tell me. We’ll do whatever it is later. When we get back to Manhattan, slather me in Italian.”
“Va bene.”
“What did you just say?”
“Okay.”
“Sounded pornographic.”
He shakes his head and laughs.
“Maybe we could go to your family’s house in Italy on our honeymoon. We still haven’t made any definite plans yet.” I always wanted to go.
“Sure, if you want. It’s beautiful there. You’ll love it.”
“Did you have sex with anyone when you stayed at that house?” I ask.
“What difference does that make?”
“You just answered my question. Is there any country, continent, or city on earth you have not had sex in?”
“Antarctica.” His voice drips in sarcasm.
“You think this is funny?”
“I think you’re being ridiculous.”
“Don’t throw that word at me,” I warn. “Being called ridiculous once a day is my limit. My mother has already met it.”
“Hawaii.”
“What?”
“Hawaii.”
“You’ve never had sex in Hawaii?”
“No. Never been there.”
“We’re going to Hawaii. Boom. Honeymoon done. Cross that off the list. Isn’t this a productive day? Ridiculous Julia managed to plan the wedding favors and honeymoon.” I bend my knees to my chest and curl my arms around them.
“Stop it. You know I don’t think you’re ridiculous.”
“Are you suffering from the same selective memory disorder as my mother? You just said it.”
“What I meant
was your reasoning was ridiculous. Not you. We both have pasts before we met. I do. You do. We can’t change it. And we shouldn’t let it dictate our future. That’s all behind us. It’s you and me now. Sei l’amore della mia vita.”
“Don’t go seducing me with your word porn. What did you just say?”
“You are the love of my life.”
“Oh.” His words shoot an arrow straight through my heart. “Have you ever said that before? You know, as a line?”
“No. Only you.”
I look down at my knees, my arms loosening their tense grip. “That was romantic.”
“You deserve romance.”
“Even though I’m certified ridiculous?” I nudge his side with my shoulder and smile.
He chuckles and nudges me back. “I’m a glutton for the ridiculous.” Wrapping his arm around my shoulder, he pulls me close to him and presses his lips to my hair, kissing me.
I turn my head slightly to get a good view of the Seaside Heights boardwalk in the distance. As always, I squint at the lights, the colors blur together, like Christmas off in the distance.
“Getting your Christmas light fill?”
“You remember.”
“I remember everything about you.”
“It makes me happy. I could look at this forever.”
“I may not be able to give you the boardwalk lights, but I can promise this— I’ll always sit on the beach, squint my eyes, and watch them with you.”
“I’d like that. You know, I love you. So much.”
“I love you too.” He places his index finger under my chin, turns my head to him, and kisses me tenderly.
“Mmm, you are a spectacular kisser.”
“Lucky for me, I have a spectacular girl to kiss.”
“I missed you today,” I say.
“You told me.”
“I meant it.”
“I know.”
“Can I stay at your place tonight?”
“Since when do you need to ask? I always want you sleeping next to me. I thought that was a given.”
“It is. I’m sorry. I’m a scatterbrain today. I know I don’t need to ask.”
“Did something happen today?”
“Why would you think that?”
“I don’t know, just a feeling. You were holding onto me for dear life when you first got to your parents’ house. I figured it was just wedding stress, but now I’m not so sure.”
“I already told you, I missed you.”
“Nothing else?”
“Nope.” I have no intention of bringing up my bump-in with Mikehole and souring my mood. He’s officially dead to me and not worth a mention. “It’s getting late. We should head back. Allie’s probably had her fill of her family by now.”
~o0o~
“She’s coming,” I tell Ben, who’s toggling between two sports radio talk shows.
Less than a minute later, Allie opens the passenger side door. “Shit, this car is bursting with crap,” she says as she slides into her seat, closes the door, and grabs the seatbelt.
“You’re lucky we were able to fit you. There were so many gifts,” I tell her.
“Some much better than others,” she says suggestively.
“Oh?” Ben asks, catching her tone.
“Benny Boy, you are in for the time of your life.”
He turns his head to me, arching a brow. “Really?” he asks curiously.
“Allie and my sisters added their own twist to the gift giving. I’m sure your mother is scarred for life.”
“What exactly is in those bags and boxes in the back?”
“The usual,” Allie answers. “China, crystal, cock rings.”
“Cock rings?” he asks.
“My mother said it’s for your pleasure,” I say sarcastically.
“Your mother gave you a cock ring?”
“She was pretty damn proud of herself. It was horrifying.”
“What else do you have in there?”
“I’ll show you later.”
“Damn right, you will.”
“Now that this bridal shower is out of the way, we can move on to the bachelorette party and have some real fun,” Allie chimes in.
“I don’t want a bachelorette party.”
“Of course you do. We can go to that Male Review show in Atlantic City and make a girls weekend of it.”
“No. No strippers. Not my thing.”
She purses her lips then sighs. “Okay. Fine. No strippers. How about the ballet?”
“Ballet? Since when are you into the ballet?” I turn in my seat and stare at her suspiciously.
“Bulges in tights. Delish.” Grinning wide, she wiggles her brows.
“Is that all you see?”
“The bigger the bulge, the more I indulge.” She nods. “That’s why I find ‘The Nutcracker’ so ironic.”
Ben lets out a hearty laugh.
“Oh, how I’d love a crack at some of those nuts,” she adds.
“You’re nuts,” I tell her. “Does Vince know about this obsession?”
“Sure does. I bought him tights. He goes sans the dance belt, he likes the boys to roam free, and I like to stare at his outline.”
“You’re both insane.”
“Adventurous.” She winks. “And don’t knock it ‘til you try it. Maybe Ben wants a pair.”
“I think I’ll pass,” he answers.
“Your loss,” she says casually. “Jules, we have to do something before you’re married off.”
“Married off? That sounds desperate,” I tell her.
“No, desperate would be if you were marrying that asshole.”
“I’m an asshole?” Ben asks.
“Not you. Mikehole, Julia’s ex. The jackass. He’s lucky I didn’t kick him in his tiny nuts when we saw him.”
Ben turns his head to me. “You saw your ex today?”
“Yeah, at the Gift Shop,” I say nonchalantly.
“Did you talk to him?”
“We said hello and went on our way.”
“Puh-lease. The guy was salivating when he saw her. Can you believe he had the balls to tell her he wanted her back?”
Shut up, Allie. Shut up.
“Did he?” Ben asks, his voice deceptively low.
“Fucking Moron. Jules didn’t mention it?”
“No,” he says curtly. “Jules didn’t mention it.”
Shit. He never calls me Jules.
“It wasn’t anything worth bringing up,” I say softly, placing my hand on his thigh.
He shifts in his seat, turning his leg away from me as his body stiffens. I pull my hand back.
“Is there something wrong?” I ask.
“No,” he answers flatly, staring straight ahead.
“Ben, there was nothing to tell. Really.”
He continues looking straight ahead, his jawline clenched.
“Umm, I think I’m going to take a nap. Wake me up when we get to the city,” Allie says.
I turn to look at her and she mouths “I’m so sorry.”
I nod and mouth back, “It’s okay.”
Allie is unaware of Ben’s jealous tendencies. Once he went all alpha-asshole caveman on me when he thought Vince’s friend Pierce was making a move on me in front of him. Then again, it did result in some amazing possessive sex.
Jealousy over an ex is surprising considering he’s the one with a far more active sexual past. He wasn’t exactly manwhore, but he certainly had his share of ‘friends’ who were naked in his bed. Hell, I just saw the Queen of torch-holding and his former FWB yesterday.
Anyway, jealous of Mikehole? That’s plain crazy. The only feelings I have for that philandering idiot is contempt. Ben and I don’t talk about our pasts, but he knows what a cheating douchebag Mikehole was to me.
Maybe I should fix him up with Cam-eel. They can procreate their demon spawn and live miserably ever after.
“Everything okay?” I ask Ben.
“Yeah.” He reaches for the radio and t
urns the volume up, shutting me down and out.
I lean back in my chair and sigh. Staring out the passenger side window, I watch the trees lining the Garden State Parkway go by as we head home in silence.
Chapter 8
After a long, nonverbal and tense drive, we arrive at Vince’s place. Allie side-eyes me as she exits Ben’s SUV. I shrug and roll my eyes out of his view.
“Talk to you sometime tomorrow,” I tell her.
“That makes one person you’ll be talking to,” she whispers, glancing at Ben. “Thanks for the ride and tequila,” she says to him.
“Sure,” he grumbles, never making eye contact.
“Well, you two kids have fun tonight.” She closes the door behind her and walks into Vince’s building.
We drive back to his apartment, silently unload the car, and carry stacks of gifts from the parking garage below his building to the apartment.
“Okay, that’s the last of the gifts.” I place a huge gift bag full of Wishing Well sex toys on the floor. Exhausted, I plop down on the couch and look around the room. “Your place is a mess.”
“It’s fine for a few days. I’ll move the boxes to the Central Park apartment once the new floors are finished.”
“Come and sit with me.” I pat my hand down on the cushion beside me. After a weekend night away, all I want to do is dissolve the tension by curling up in his arms.
He hesitates for a moment. “I’m going to write for a little while. Get comfortable. I’ll be back later.” Before I have the chance to utter another word, he disappears down the hallway toward the Coin Shrine where he writes.
Going to write for a little while? My ass. He’s still mad that I didn’t mention something not worth mentioning. Even with Mikehole out of my life, he still manages to give me grief.
If I thought for a minute that a stupid chance encounter would upset Ben, I would have said something. But what’s the point in bringing up something that has nothing to do with us? I have no desire to revisit that part of my life. Ever.
Screw it. He’ll get over it. I know the way he works. He takes some alone time to brood then he’ll return like an alpha-asshole and want sex to prove that I’m his. That’s fine. Anyway, I like post-brooding sex. It’s absolutely filthy.
Go.
Brood.
We both know you’ll be back with your hard-on leading the way.
