It was like a dream, really, and more romantic than I ever thought could be realistic. I was experiencing something I thought a semi-disabled woman like me could never have, and I was enjoying rubbing it in the metaphorical face that belonged to that mean little voice in my head.
Eventually, we were warm enough to take a dip, so Ben packed up and I followed him to the stream. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect, but I was delighted when we came across a wide, gently moving body of water.
I made sure to slather my face with sunscreen and wait fifteen minutes for it to set, but thankfully I didn’t have to worry about the rest of my body since I’d bought a modest bathing suit.I hadn’t gotten it because I felt bikinis were wrong, but because sometimes making sure every inch of my nearly bioluminescent skin was properly protected from UV rays ended up tiring me out too much to actually swim, and that was a real travesty.
It was even more fun than I’d imagined; the two of us splashing around, swimming lazily, and lying on the shore to soak up the sun. I was going to bethoroughlyexhausted, but it felt nice to have earned it through fun physical activity rather than just being worn down by fatigue and foot pain.
We headed back to the cabin when Ben’s stomach rumbled insistently, the lighter fare from our picnic not quite enough to satiate him long-term. There, we threw together a simple pesto pasta.
I didn’t know if he’d done it intentionally, but it reminded me of the first meal I’d had at his house. It filled me with such a pervasive fondness that I knew I would look back on my memories of the trip for a long, long time whenever I needed a mental pick-me-up.
But I started to get the feeling that it very muchwasintentional when Ben set the table and beckoned me to take my seat before disappearing into the kitchen. A moment later, he returned with two wine bottles and chilled glasses.
I shot him a quizzical look. Although I wouldn’t be mad if he had forgotten that I couldn’t mix alcohol with my medications, it was unlike him to slip on something like that.
The confusion only lasted until he set them down, and I saw the label clearly.
“Non-alcoholicrosé?” I blurted. “I didn’t even know that was a thing!”
Sure, I was well aware of the growing popularity of mocktails and was happy those were becoming more available at bars across the world, but it wasn’t like I ever went out like that. Even if I wanted to spend all the extra money on doctored fruit juice, Iwouldn’t stay awake long enough to have an actual night on the town.
“Went to a halal market on my trip to get some Gulab as a treat and saw they had a whole section of non-alcoholic drinks. I remember you said you missed rosé, so I figured it was the perfect chance to grab some.”
He remembered that? A one-off comment I’d made on our first date. A first date that had ended in me being kidnapped and exposed to the shifter world, so it wasn’t like that was exactly a focal point of the evening.
“Are you okay?” Ben asked in alarm. Big, fat, salty tears were beginning to spill over my waterline. “I’m sorry, we don’t have to?—”
“No, no, it’s perfect!” I launched myself out of my seat and threw my arms around his neck. “Thank you, Ben. I love it. I can’t wait to try it!”
Crying over fake wine was probably a bit much, but it was so much more than that. Despite us being entirely different species, he accepted me as I was. My little hiccups, my accommodations, were never an inconvenience to him. It was like he only viewed them as ways to show up for me.
It was more than I ever thought I could have, and I was so sad that Past Giselle thought that was all I deserved. But now I knew better. Although my wounds weren’t as deep as Ben’s, I’d had to unlearn my own internalized self-harm. Like Nox had said, sometimes I was my own worst bully.
I kissed Ben hard, practically pasting myself to him. I wanted to climb right into his skin, to merge us into one.
But then his stomach rumbled again, and I had to laugh.
“No, no, ignore that,” Ben said quickly, holding on to me as I went to sit. “I can eat later.”
I knew better, though. He could skip a meal to indulge in the direction I was heading, but then he’d end up light-headed and there definitely wouldn’t be time for a round two.
Sometimes, delayed gratification was worth it.
“We put the time into making the food, we should enjoy it while it’s fresh. Besides…” I shot him a wink. “It’ll help me keep my energy up for any calisthenics we might get up to.”
“Calisthenics?” he teased right back, sitting down.
I batted my lashes at him, as I tended to do whenever I was being cheeky. “You never know what could happen.”
We stuffed ourselves silly with a truly delicious meal and had an entire bottle of the faux wine, then cuddled up in front of the fireplace together on the long, overstuffed couch. The furniture in the cabin was much nicer than anything I had at home, and I couldn’t help but wonder how much Ben had paid for our reservation. He really had pulled out all the stops, hadn’t he?
I couldn’t believe it was only our first night of our mini-vacation, and already it was so magical. Truly, when was the last time I’d felt so relaxed and unencumbered by the responsibilities of the next day? I couldn’t say, and that in and of itself said something all on its own. Despite claiming to hate grind culture, I’d been right against that ever-spinning stone for years. As much as Ben said he needed me, I really needed him too. Without him, I didn’t know if I ever would have slowed down and realized how much I was missing.
“A penny for your thoughts before inflation makes them unobtainable?”
That got a soft chuckle out of me, but along with it came a revelation that hit me like a wrecking ball. “I’ve been going over this in my head dozens and dozens of times, trying to find the perfect words or wait for that movie moment, but I’ve been overcomplicating it all.”
He shot me a quizzical look but all I could do was smile at him. “Uh, I don’t follow.”
