"She did," he confirmed, spooning cocoa and then sugar into the warming milk. "My grandma believed that hot chocolate could fix most troubles, at least temporarily. She used to make it for us whenever we had nightmares or bad days at school."
"She sounds wonderful."
"She was." His expression softened with memory. "She always said that what chocolate couldn’t cure, a good Elvis song would. My grandparents were huge Elvis Presley fans. And when I say huge, I mean it. I’m talking yearly trips to Graceland and an Elvis Presley memorabilia room in their house.”
It was the most personal thing he'd shared with her since they'd met. Kelly found herself oddly touched by this glimpse into his past, into the formation of the man standing before her.
“Do you like Elvis, too?”
“I do, although not with as much vigor as they did. But those vacations to Graceland were great. My siblings and I had an awesome time.”
Ben added a pinch of salt, a dash of vanilla, and a hint of cinnamon to the mixture, stirring gently as the rich scent of chocolate filled the kitchen.
"That smells amazing," Kelly admitted. “I don’t remember the last time I had homemade hot chocolate.”
"Grandma said the secret ingredient was snow outside, but we’re going to have to do our best without that tonight," Ben chuckled, pouring the steaming liquid into two mugs and handing one to Kelly. “And I promise to replace whatever we’ve used to make this before we leave. I’m just glad we bought milk. I have a feeling your friend might like hot chocolate, too, based on the ingredients in her pantry.”
She wrapped her hands around it gratefully, inhaling the complex aroma before taking a careful sip.
The chocolate was rich and velvety, and not too sweet. It was miles better than the powdered mix she had in a cabinet at home.
"This is really good," she murmured, taking another sip.
Ben leaned against the counter across from her, his own mug cradled in his hands.
"Want to talk about what's keeping you up?"
Kelly stared down into her mug, watching the steam curl upward. "It's Lori," she said finally. "I can't stop thinking about what you said. About her maybe being pregnant."
"It's just a theory," Ben reminded her gently. "We don't know for sure."
"It kind of makes sense," Kelly said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The signs were there. I just didn't see them. Or maybe I didn't want to see them."
"You can't blame yourself for that."
"Can't I?" She looked up at him, tears burning her eyes. "She was my best friend. We were supposed to tell each other everything."
Ben set his mug down and rounded the counter, taking the stool next to her. Not touching, but close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from him.
"People keep secrets. Even from those they love most. Sometimes, especially from them."
"I know. I just never thought Lori would keep something like that from me. I didn’t have any secrets from her."
"Everything? Really?" Ben asked, his voice gentle but pointed. "There's nothing you didn't tell her?"
"I—" Kelly started, then stopped, her rebuttal dying on her lips as memories surfaced.
She took another sip of hot chocolate, buying herself time to think.
"I guess there were some things," she admitted reluctantly. "But they were small things."
"I never told her how much I resented my parents sometimes," Kelly continued, her voice low. "How incredibly painful it was to always be measured against Rob and found wanting. How much I was looking forward to leaving Bergen after graduation. I mean…I told her, but I sort of held back on how deliriously happy I was to be leaving.”
The last admission felt particularly significant in retrospect.
"Lori loved it here," Kelly explained. "She couldn't understand why anyone would want to leave. When I'd talk about college applications to places far away, she'd get this hurt look. Eventually, I just stopped mentioning it."
Ben nodded, understanding in his eyes. "So you protected her feelings by keeping certain truths to yourself."
