I swallow.
And fight that urge again, the one that has my hand itching to grip the door handle and flee.
Because we have veered way off course here.
This feels deeper than business partners.
This has gone beyond buddies, friends.
This is…dangerous.
“I’m sorry,” I say, looking away.
I don’t know exactly what I’m feeling but I do know my apology isn’t about his crappy childhood or my recent tears. I know it’s about his feelings, my resolve. I know it’s about us…because we’re not an us and no matter what, we can never really be an us. I won’t do it again.
And as Ben pulls his fingers out of mine, I know he knows it too.
_____
“Alright, wifey, want to go another round with me or sit here looking stunning?” Ben asks me as he stands. He’s smiling but the grin is forced, polite. I hate it. He’s never polite with me like this. Even that first moment in Vegas, we were at ease with each other. I look up at him, striking in his tux even in a room full of powerful men in tuxes. There’s a jazz band playing Christmas songs and the room is dripping in white and silver and gold. It’s the most spectacular, tasteful, dreamy Christmas decor I’ve ever seen and he fits right in.
“I’ll stay,” I say, letting him go. He should go have fun instead of marinate in the awkwardness of us since the car ride last night. It’s not like he professed some deep love for me. Yet, everything is all wrong.
He looks truly unbelievable in his tux tonight. Literally. His hair is a little longer and he’s sun-kissed from Mexico. It’s hard for my brain to believe he’s a real human man and not a flat image in a magazine spread.
I feel pretty in my silvery gown. It’s modest, not too tight, high neckline since I’m a Clark now. But it does have a very high, very sexy slit in the skirt because, well, I’m still me. Thefabric shimmers and catches the light of my wedding ring and matching earrings from him.
But there’ve been hardly any unabashed compliments, zero attempts at butt grabbing. We haven’t kissed yet tonight, even with the cameras around as an excuse. We’ve said so few words, I haven’t even had an opportunity to tease him or roll my eyes.
I sigh.
This sucks.
“You two okay?” Samantha almost yells as she approaches me where I sit next to her husband at the head table.
Emerson nods adoringly at her. I almost smile, “Yes, we’re fine, just taking a people break. Did Ben send you to check on me?”
“No, and why would he? You guys are sitting here in silence observing everyone. Why would you need to be saved from what’s basically your happy place?” I huff out a laugh at that. She frowns, “Although, you don’t look happy.”
“I’m fine,” I lie.
She studies me for a beat then scans the room.
“Ohhhh,” she finally says. I try to follow her gaze, unsure what she thinks she’s just realized. “You don’t need to worry about her, she’s the ex. You’re thewife.”
“Her? Her who?” My eyes snap over to Ben so fast I think I just pulled a muscle in my skull.
Samantha looks at Emerson so he answers, “That’s Penny.”
I scan my memory of our conversation about all his past flings. Penny…Penny…Penny…the one who fell for him. They spent a holiday season together and she thought they were a lot more serious than they were. Some tension in my shoulders starts to relax.
Until I look from Ben to her.
She’s gorgeous. Big blue eyes, naturally white-blonde hair and pink cheeks like she was just out in the sun. Scandinavian royalty vibes. Hate hatehatethat for me.
“A couple years ago, I think, I never met her. But again, I’m sure she’s just telling him congratulations on his marriage. To you.” Samantha rambles as I stare daggers across the room. Because Penny is not congratulating my husband. She is flirting with him. Hard. And he seems to be loving every second of it.
“Sure,” Emerson adds slowly at Samantha’s urging. “She’s a bit, uh, demonstrative, but that’s just Penelope.”
