"Uh, yeah, you did," he argued. "If I was in there"—he pointed at the section I'd cleared—"you would've yanked me up too."
"Likely story," I muttered as I picked my way through the garden toward him. "To what do I owe this surprise visit?"
He stared at me through his dark sunglasses, silent while I pulled off my cap and mopped the sweat from my brow. "Where's your guard dog? Shouldn't he be out here, warning off trespassers?"
I waved my hat toward the house. "Too hot for him. He requires a temperate climate."
Ben whistled. "That pup has the life." He shook his head, smiling at me. "Let's go inside. Your shoulders are getting red."
I glanced at my bare arms and found he was right, I was heading toward a sunburn. "The sun's more intense than I thought."
"Yeah," he replied, dragging the word out. "Or maybe you shouldn't be doing yard work during a heat wave."
"If I waited for good gardening days, I'd get seven or eight a year." Ben followed me into the house, stopping to pet Gronk while I washed my hands at the kitchen sink.
"Hey, buddy," he said, crouching down to meet the dog at his level. "Having a snoozer? Good day for it."
"Want a drink?" I looped my fingers around the refrigerator door handle, watching while Ben loved all over my dog. Giving affection came easily to him. The rest of his emotions were less clear. "I have beer."
"I'll pass on the beer." He scooped Gronk up, cradling him in his arms, and settled at the kitchen table. "Water, please."
Carrying two glasses of water, I joined Ben at the table. His attention belonged to Gronk as he scratched the dog's head, patted his flanks, and carried on a hushed conversation as if he'd get a response any minute now.
I was guilty of all the same things but it was curious to see Ben focused only on Gronk. "If you wanted a playdate with my dog, you could've asked." The remark was mostly sarcastic. Mostly.
He glanced up at me, his expression rigid. "I need to talk to you."
Even the most stable, secure people in the world wobbled against those words. "Okay."
He returned his attention to Gronk, stroking the space between his ears. "I need to talk and I need you to not say anything."
"So," I started, lifting my glass, "you want me to sit here? Without responding?"
"Yeah, pretty much." He shrugged as if this was a common request. "I would've texted you but that seemed like a chickenshit choice and I'm tired of making the chickenshit choice."
Another wobble. Even if it didn't make sense. That fear of rejection, it never went all the way away. Not even when I wanted the rejection. When the rejection saved me from delivering the same blow. "Oh," I murmured. "Oh. That kind of conversation. Okay."
"Nothing bad. Not for you."
He kept his gaze trained on Gronk. He didn't even want to look at me. Didn't want to or couldn't? Was there a difference? Did it even matter?
Ben continued, "I've been thinking this week. I've been thinking a lot."
My eyebrows arched up. "That's not like you."
He slapped his palm on the table, grinning at me for the first time today. "What did I tell you about keeping quiet?"
"All right. I'll be quiet. As much as I can."
He shared an eyeroll with Gronk that suggested I couldn't be trusted. "Like I said, I've been thinking a lot. And like you said, that's uncommon for me." He forced a brittle laugh. I didn't reciprocate. "I've been thinking and I want to say a couple of things to you. First, I want you to know you're one of the best people I've ever met. You yelled at me and you wouldn't let me fuck up and you did the exact opposite of everyone else in my life and I—I appreciate that. I appreciate everything you've done and everything you've put up with because I've been a whole fucking lot to put up with recently."
"Are you firing me? As your home improvement mentor? Because that's what this sounds like." I pressed my fingertips to my lips. "Oh. Sorry. I'm not supposed to say anything."
Ben held Gronk up to meet his eyes. "What is wrong with her? I don't know how you put up with this, buddy. I really don't." He looked up at me. "I'm not firing you. For fuck's sake, Gigi."
"You're not paying me either so I suppose it's a moot point."
"You're making me think twice about doing this in person," he grumbled.
