“Scott Stevens? Of course,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “We went to school together.”
“Oh?” Yep, there was something more there. “I was at his farm with Ben and Branson, and he seemed to have fond memories of you.”
“Not now,” she said before grabbing a cupcake.
I made a mental note to explore the matter later and went about leading the book club, eating cupcakes, and admiring everyone’s nail polish while smelling phantom Americanos and Ben’s woodsy scent.
I decided after a good night’s sleep, I would do what Brenna (and I) wanted and make amends.
33
Ben
Saturday morning, I moped around my house, hoping my dad would call with a chore he needed help with, or maybe Branson would text me, wanting to hang. I could take him to see the new house, and he could pick out a room to use when he was there.
Or I could make some notes of work I needed to have done on the new house. It would take less time than I’d originally thought, but I didn’t dwell on that either.
Frustrated, I glared at my phone, lying there all quiet on the counter.
Idle time wasn’t my friend. Rather than pace or head into the hospital to check on patients who didn’t need checking on, I opened my laptop and reviewed an app contract. It was perhaps my biggest one yet, and I had no one to share the good news with, no one to toast with, not a fucking soul to even congratulate me.
Rather than wallow in self-pity, I went over some of the details in the contract. I was lost in the provision where it explained my medical license was accepted through endorsement of the state of New York when there was a knock on my door.
For a second, I thought I was imagining it, and then I heard it again. It was soft and timid, but someone was rapping on the wood.
I opened the door to reveal a disheveled Murphy with windblown hair framing her tear-streaked face and ruddy cheeks. Mentally, I reprimanded myself for wanting to grab her and hold her. Her car was at the bottom of my driveway, and for a moment, I thought it was running. I guessed she was here to say good-bye. She must be heading off to somewhere with her parents, a place where she could be a well-known Landon.
“Murphy.” I blew out her name with a sigh of relief. I was unbelievably happy to see her, yet still angry about what had happened with her parents, contradictory emotions that swirled into a cocktail of confusion.
“Ben, I’m ... I’m sorry ... to just show up like this.” Her eyes glistening, she sniffed back tears. “But I didn’t know whether you would see me or not.”
“Murph, I would always see you,” I said, knowing it was true. My heart lashed at my mind over how I’d ignored all her messages, giving her the impression I wouldn’t see her. “Come in.”
She walked slowly over the threshold. “Ben,” she said, her voice hoarse and strained. “I’m sorry.”
I noticed she was wearing those boots I loved, and couldn’t help the small jolt of lust running through my body.
“It’s not your fault,” I said, leading her toward the family room that had no family to enjoy it. Speaking to her as we traversed the hall was the coward’s way. “Your family is your family, and I can’t change that.”
“Ben, look at me,” she said, taking control of the conversation, and I did as she asked, turning and leaning my hip into the wall. “It was a shock seeing my parents like that. It took me totally by surprise. For all my life, they said jump, and I did exactly that. I didn’t know any better. When they walked through the door of the Bean, I couldn’t reconcile this life here with the life I’ve lived for the majority of my life.”
She approached and hesitated before placing her palm on my chest. I wasn’t sure what she wanted to do, but I nodded. Her hand landed over my heart, her gaze still locked on mine.
“I left New York because of the terrible way they treated me, and you were the one person who didn’t judge me about what happened. Your heart has always been larger than life. Even back at Pressman, you never judged me. I took all of that for granted years ago, and then again when we went to the inn.”
Her gaze fell to the floor, and mine dropped to watch her chest rising and falling. She was trying to catch her breath.
“You didn’t deserve what I did,” she said. “I can’t apologize for my parents’ actions, but I can apologize for mine.”
Her hand slid down my chest before she turned and walked away, and I followed her every move. My head thought it was a good thing she was leaving, but my heart started to crack at the idea of her going, despite what I was about to do myself.
But then she stopped in front of the sectional sofa and slid to the floor, her back to the front of the sofa, her legs stretched out in front of her.
Dropping her head back, she blew out a long breath. “I can’t stand it anymore,” she said matter-of-factly.
“Can I get you some water?” I asked.
When she shook her head, I joined her on the floor, plopping my ass down next to her. Unable to resist this woman anymore, I wove my fingers through hers and squeezed her hand.
