Ben's eyes are closed, but I know he isn't sleeping—just thinking.
Somehow, he doesn't ask about Richard. Maybe he doesn't want to ruin this sacred moment while we lie tangled together.
I appreciate him not bringing it up.
Now we have this place, three months as a temporary commitment but what happens next? He's made it clear that divorcing Lisa won't be easy, and neither will Richard.
What if this is what Ben wants anyway? Not an expiry date, but a long-term double-life. As shameful as it is, we wouldn't be the first lovers to sneak across boundaries.
"What are you thinking?" Ben whispers out of nowhere, eyes opening on me.
"I don't know," I whisper.I know—sneaky cheat-code since he said I could use that line, but I really don't know.
"How's Mara?" I toss instead. "She asked my dress size two weeks ago, then ghosted."
Ben exhales, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Bridezilla in her final evolution. Sent me a spreadsheet of fifteen identical shades of ivory and made me vote. Then whined I picked wrong."
I snort a laugh. "There's a wrong ivory?"
"Apparently," he says flatly. "And I was supposed to psychically know it, being her brother."
"How's Paul taking it?"
Ben's mouth quirks. "He keeps calling, asking if there's a light at the end of the tunnel. I told him there is—it's called cardiac arrest, flatline on the monitor, and the morgue freezer."
I flick his chin. "Jesus. Tell me you didn't—"
"Verbatim. He laughed a full minute, like something in him finally snapped, then said he hoped it'd be quick."
I snort and press my forehead into his chest to hide my grin. "Poor Paul. Your family must be happy, though?"
"They can't wait. Italians. You know how we like to celebrate."
"Is Lisa coming too?" I ask carefully, then rush out the rest. "Since Mara doesn't like her, I mean."
"Yeah," he says, watching me intently. "It's a family matter. She has to come." A breath. "Mara told me you're not going alone either?"
"Yeah. I had to take Rich—"
"I know," he jumps in, nods, face flat. "It's alright."
His fingers drift through my hair, aimless andtranquilizing, like he's soothing himself as much as me. Somewhere between the last blink and the next one, I'm gone.
Then one panicked inhale later and I'm yanked back into his arms.
His watch glows 11:04 p.m.
Shit. Richard. Home. Me, not there.
My phone's probably glowing with missed calls and half-angry, half-worried messages.
I jolt, trying to sit up, but Ben's arms are locked around me.
When I glance at him, he's up, eyes on me, looking dazed, like I've interrupted him mid-love letter.
"Have you... been watching me?"
"Yeah." Just that one word, breathless.
