He stops by the desk and looks at me like I broke some silent promise by disappearing. Then his hands are on me, grabbing me, hard enough that I wince before he loosens his grip. "Are you okay?"
I nod into his chest and hum, muffled. "You?"
"Better now," he says, pulling back to have me see his serious eyes. "But if you ever do that to me again, I swear I'll lose my mind."
I make a guilty face. "I couldn't go back. Not after what I've done."
"You should have told me at least. I didn't even know where you're staying. I would have for sure talked you out of cominghere alone."
"Would you come here with me? It wouldn't end well, you know it."
"No, you would not come here at all. I'd come here to get your stuff."
I give him a look. "Yeah, that would end even better."
I slide down onto the bed, hugging the blanket to myself while he stays standing, looming around the desk.
"When you asked me to prove I loved you, I'm guessing this isn't what you meant?"
He snorts and shakes his head. "Was thinking something a little less nuclear, but guess this is us."
I exhale loudly. "Your family must hate me."
"They don't," he jumps in firmly. "And even if they did, do you think I care what anyone says when it comes to you?"
His phone dings in his pocket. He glances at it, sighs. Another ding. Then it explodes with a ringtone.
He paces toward the window, Manhattan spread out below like it's holding its breath, and his thumb hovers over the screen. He silences it, sighs again.
"Let me guess—it's your mom?"
"Yeah." He turns to me and his eyes are bone-tired. "She swore on every dead relative she'll disown me."
A dry snort as he crosses over and drops onto the bed beside me. "This time I think she means it."
"The way she looked at me..." I wince. "I think she means it... I'm so sorry."
"Don't be." His voice softens as his hand finds my thigh. "I'd live through that exact moment a thousand times if it meant ending up here with you."
I turn on the bed, hide my face in the pillow. "Bet Paul and Mara wouldn't agree. I ruined their wedding."
Ben lays down on his elbow. "They're fine. Paul's the one who remembered your hotel, and Mara was calling here before I even picked up the phone, giving them attitude because she wanted to make sure you're okay."
"God." I groan into the pillow. "A wedding basket is not going to fix this."
He clicks his mouth, tries to pull the pillow away so I'll face him, but I wrestle him off—turns out shame makes you incredibly strong.
"What about Lisa?" I muffle and turn to him. "She looked hurt. I felt terrible the second I saw her face. Wish I could apologize to her."
His face is shadowed. "Yeah. She was more upset than I thought she'd be. She locked herself in the bathroom until Mom came and talked her out. She barely spoke to me then."
"She genuinely hurt, not just embarrassed."
Ben frowns. "It's odd because the past few weeks we barely spent any time together, and she didn't seem to mind." He blows out a breath. "Anyway, she's already mentioned lawyers."
I flinch. "Oh shit."
He lifts his hand. "Relax. One of the good decisions I've made is getting a postnup. Paul talked me into it. I'm not the type to withhold anything in a relationship but considering our family's money, my own earnings—he was right."
