“Get in. I’ll drive you home.”
I hesitate. The smart thing would be to call Bella or even take an Uber. The last thing I need right now is to be alone in a car with Ben, especially after tonight. Especially after the way he looked when I told him about Ron Gabriel, like I’d somehow betrayed him by not sharing every detail of my life.
Especially after the way my heart rate picks up every time he’s within three feet of me.
“It’s late,” he says, as if reading my hesitation. “Come on, Freya. Let me give you a ride.”
“Fine.” I grab my purse and lock my car, then slide into Ben’s passenger seat. The interior smells like his cologne and leather, achingly familiar.
We drive through the quiet streets in silence for the first few minutes. I stare out the window, watching the city blur past, trying not to think about how natural this feels. How right.
“You seemed to enjoy yourself tonight,” Ben says finally.
“I did. Thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank me. Carson did it all.”
There’s something in his tone that makes me glance at him. His jaw is tight, his hands gripping the steering wheel more firmly than necessary.
“Ben, are you upset about something?”
“No. Why would I be upset?”
“You just seem… tense.”
He’s quiet for a long moment. “I guess I was surprised that you didn’t tell me about the exhibition.”
The hurt in his voice catches me off guard. “Um… okay. With everything else going on, it didn’t seem like the right time.”
“Your career isn’t ‘everything else,’ Freya. It’s important. It matters.”
“I know that.”
“Do you? Because it feels like you’re compartmentalizing me out of the parts of your life that actually mean something to you.”
His words hit harder than they should. “That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it? We used to tell each other everything. We spend all this time planning wedding details and staging photo opportunities, but you don’t tell me about the biggest break in your career.”
“Because this isn’t real!” The words explode out of me before I can stop them. “This engagement, this relationship, none of it is real, Ben. Why would I treat you like a real fiancé when we both know this is all just a business arrangement?”
The silence that follows is deafening. I immediately regret saying it, but I can’t take it back now.
“Right,” he says quietly. “Just business. And our friendship?”
I don’t answer. He doesn’t deserve that.
When he pulls up in front of my building, I’m already reaching for the door handle before the car comes to a complete stop.
“Freya, wait.”
I turn back to face him, and something in his expression makes my breath catch. He looks wounded. Vulnerable in a way I rarely see.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “You’re right. I don’t have the right to expect you to share everything with me. This is complicated enough without me making it more so.”
“Ben—”
“Let me walk you up. It’s late.”
