He gathered the last of his belongings and headed toward the door. Kelly moved aside to let him pass, maintaining the physical distance between them.
"Then text me if you need the car to go to the wedding and if you still want me there," he said, pausing with his hand on the doorknob.
Kelly's expression remained impassive.
"I'll figure it out."
Three words that somehow conveyed volumes. I'll figure it out. Without you. I don't need you.
“I’m sure you will.”
He took one last look at her, searching for any sign that she might be softening, any indication that she wanted him to stay despite her words. Her face was a mask, tear-stained but resolute. Whatever connection they had built over the past weeks seemed to have vanished, replaced by this chilly formality.
"Goodbye, Kelly," he said finally, and stepped into the hallway, pulling the door closed behind him.
The click of the latch sounded unnaturally loud in the quiet corridor. Ben stood motionless for a moment, half expecting, half hoping the door would open again. That Kelly would call him back, say she had overreacted, that they should talk this through.
The door remained closed.
There was no point in pretending that something hadn’t shifted drastically between them. Whatever they’d felt and experienced last night was over,
There was no reason to hang around.
So much for taking chances and spontaneity. He’d stick to his lists, spreadsheets, and schedules from now on.
They’d never once broken his heart.
Chapter
Twenty-Two
The door closedwith a soft click that somehow sounded far more final than simply a closed door. Kelly stood frozen in the middle of the condo living room, staring at the spot where Ben had been just moments before. The silence pressed in around her, heavy and accusing. She'd driven away the one person who had been genuinely on her side since she'd arrived in Bergen.
Her legs gave out suddenly, and she collapsed onto the couch, her body feeling both leaden and hollow at the same time. More tears spilled over, strangely warm on her ice-cold skin.
She didn't bother wiping them away. What was the point? There would only be more to take their place.
What did I just do?
There was, of course, no one to answer. There was only the faint hum of the refrigerator and the distant sound of traffic outside. Kelly pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, making herself small on the vast expanse of the couch that had felt so different last night. Last night, when Ben's body had been warm against hers, when they'd laughed and talked and...
She pushed the memory away. It only made the ache in her chest worse.
The anger still simmered beneath the surface, but it had shifted targets. She was still mad at her father for his smug revelation, at Celia for her perfect bride routine, at her family for making her feel like she never belonged.
But now, sitting alone in the aftermath, she realized the person she was most furious with was herself. She was the problem here, not them. They hadn’t helped, but ultimately, this wasn’t about them.
She'd lashed out at Ben because he was there, because he was safe, because she knew he would take it. And he had, with that infuriating calm that now seemed less like indifference and more like strength.
Kelly stood suddenly, unable to stay still as the nervous energy coursed through her. She went to the refrigerator, opened it, and closed it again almost immediately. She wasn’t hungry or thirsty.
"It's his fault," she said aloud, trying to convince herself. "He should have told me about his father."
The words rang hollow. She couldn’t even convince herself. Ben had never lied to her. He'd simply not volunteered information that, until tonight, hadn't seemed relevant to either of them.
Her father's words replayed in her mind: "Trouble seems to follow that family. You could get hurt."
What a joke. The only person hurting her right now was herself.
