Bennett, on the other hand, keeps his expression passive, acting like he’s not really paying attention to her. As if sensing me, he looks over and locks eyes with me. Despite the way my heart jumps, I manage to keep dancing. April doesn’t seem to get a clue, she stands directly in front of him and starts moving against him to the music as he stares at me. That’s the moment I decide I can’t do this. I can’t stand here and watch him with another woman. I also refuse to cause a scene at my brother and Nora’s bachelor party, so I turn around instead and bump straight into one of Devon’s teammates. I can’t remember this one’s name, but the force of the bump makes me take a quick step back, and I’m grateful when he grabs my arm to keep me from slipping and shoots me a grin. Before I realize what’s happening, I have a new dance partner. He leans in.
“Your Devil’s sister.”
I laugh at the nickname my brother has acquired. “That would be me.”
“I’m Darian.” He extends his hand for me to shake, which I do. He doesn’t give it back right away and I don’t even mind. We dance holding that one hand for a couple of beats until he finally drops it. “You don’t come to our games very often.”
“I haven’t been to any this year.” I cringe. “I’m a bad sister. I know. I don’t like your team though.”
“Really?” Darian throws his head back with a howl of a laugh. When he straightens, he wraps an arm around me and pulls him closer as we dance. “I have a confession. I didn’t like them either. I’m a Dolphin, born and raised in the three-oh-five, so none of my family likes the team either. They root for me though.”
“That’s all that matters, isn’t it?” I smile.
“For me it is.”
When the song finishes and loops into another, I slow down and offer Darian a smile. “Thanks for the dance.”
“Sure. Thank you,” he says quickly. “I’ll see you at the wedding.”
I walk away and go back to the table I’d been in before, taking a seat there before taking my phone out. I glance up quickly and look at the dance floor, where everyone is still dancing. I tell myself I’m not going to look in Bennett’s direction, but it’s impossible. I have to know if he gave into April’s obvious attempts. Neither one of them are there when I look. A knot settles in the pit of my stomach. Did he leave with her? No. He wouldn’t just leave. Did they go somewhere more private? Is he kissing her, touching her, fucking her? My thoughts only seem to get less appealing and the knot seems to grow bigger. I decide to scroll social media because I can’t handle reality right now, but a notification from the workplace app pops up and I click it, pulse thrumming in my ears.
Owl: I miss you
Owl: You look beautiful
Owl: I want to touch you, even if it’s just to hold your hand
Owl: You smell so good
Owl: I love watching you laugh
Owl: I hate seeing you dance with other men
Owl: You get this look on your face when your sad about something, like you transport yourself to another reality just so you won’t feel all of the emotions that come with whatever it is that makes you sad.
That last one gets me. It was sent right before I went to the bathroom at that bar and he chased me down. I look around the room in search for him and finally spot him leaning against the empty bar, no April in sight. I type in my response as I hold his attention and see when his phone alerts him of the text.
Me: You’re*
I watch as he takes it out and reads it. Watch the way his lips twitch with amusement and continue looking at him as he looks back at me. It’s dark in here, but I can imagine that twinkle in his eyes I’ve seen so often before and I wish I wasn’t so keen on leaving him. I wish I was one of those people who could be wronged and brush it off like nothing happened, but it hurts. I’ve never envisioned myself as the other woman and the picture Paola painted for me rests heavy on my mind. There are three sides to every story. I’m not completely irrational. I know Bennett truly doesn’t feel he did anything wrong because he’s been able to justify, the way I’m sure his ex-wife can give a million reasons as to why she resorted to cheating, but it doesn’t matter. I’m not the kind of woman who stands for this kind of thing. You can’t champion women and turn a blind eye when you’re the one who potentially screwed one over. I’m definitely not on my mother’s level with the betrayal, but it doesn’t make me feel any less disgusted with myself. My phone vibrates. I glance down and see a new text from Bennett, this time not in the app.
Bennett: Let me take you to breakfast tomorrow
Me: No way
Bennett: I know you booked a room with your friend, but stay at the house tonight.
Me: HELL NO
Bennett: You can stay in one of the guest rooms, not with me. I just want more time with you.
I set my phone on my lap and mull it over. Another text comes in.
Bennett: Please?
Me: Fine
I look at him as I type it and watch as his shoulders sag in relief when he reads the text. The sight of it makes me want to smile, but I don’t.
Chapter Forty-Three
My head is killing me. I don’t even remember getting here last night, so when I open my eyes and find myself in a four-poster bed in an unknown room, it takes me a second to remember that I agreed to stay in Bennett’s parents’ vacation house. I sit up quickly and look around, then pat myself down once I realize I’m wearing the pajamas I’d packed. Who even changed me? Oh, my God. This is beyond mortifying. I swing my legs over the bed and head to the en suite bathroom I see open and notice all of my toiletries are out and displayed as if I’ll be staying here all week and not just a drunken night. I brush my teeth quickly, shower because I swear I have alcohol coming out of my pores, and change into the easiest thing I can find—sweats and an oversized T-shirt that Devon wore when he was in college. I walk out of the room and roam the hallway, taking the stairs slowly as I keep my ears to the ground, in hopes to hear voices, preferably Nora and Devon’s. Unfortunately, they sleep like the dead and probably won’t be awake until this afternoon, and according to my watch it’s only ten o’clock. Fuck my internal clock and its unwillingness to let me rest.
Once I’m on the first floor, I look around and follow my nose, the smell of bacon leading me to the kitchen. I freeze upon entering. Bennett’s back is facing me. He’s wearing a gray T-shirt that probably matches my own, though while mine fits me like a dress, his molds over his back and shoulder muscles. I clear my throat. He looks over his shoulder, one side of his lip tugging into a smile.
“I’m surprised you’re awake.”
“Did you sleep with me?”
“Seriously?” He chuckles, switching off the stove and moving the pan that’s sizzling with bacon aside. He faces me fully, crossing his arms on his chest, the amusement never leaving his face. “How much of last night do you remember?”
“I remember telling you to get lost when you tracked me down in the bathroom like a creeper,” I say. “Speaking of which, did you dress me in my pajamas and take out my freaking toiletries for me? Who does that, creeper?”
He starts to chuckle and it soon turns into a full-on belly laugh that I haven’t heard very often, but man, it makes me want to turn into a comedian for a living. No. He’s an asshole, I remind myself. A grade-A asshole, classic douchebag, total creeper.
“You unpacked your things,” he says, still laughing. “You made a whole show of changing into your pajamas. You did a little striptease for me, which I would have fully appreciated, by the way, if you’d been sober and not started screaming at me and trying to throw punches when the zipper got tangled in your hair and I tried to help you.”
“Oh.” I frown. “I don’t remember that.”
“Pity.” He turns around again and starts stacking the bacon on a plate. “If you need something for your headache, I put a few bottles over on that counter.” He nods with his head, not looking in my direction and suddenly all I want is for him to look in my direction.
“Thanks.” I walk over, shake some pills onto my palm, and take a water bottle from the counter.
Instead of going back to the room I came from, I decide to sit down. Once you smell bacon, there’s no way to ignore it. My stomach hasn’t stopped growling since I came in here. As if reading my mind, he brings the plate over and sets it in front of me.
“I’m making toast and eggs. You want?”
“Yes, please.” I lick my lips, watching him cook the rest of the meal in silence, enthralled with the way his arms move, the way he moves around the kitchen with such ease.
I always did like it when he made us breakfast, or lunch, or dinner, but I figured it was because he was taking on a task I didn’t want. Now I realize it’s more than that. It’s the way he does things that I like, and the fact that he’s doing them for me, without hesitation. I don’t think I’ve really had that before. Even now, when he should absolutely be upset at me, he’s making me breakfast. If the tables were turned, I’d let him starve. He returns with scrambled egg whites and toast on two separates plates, placing one in front of me and the other on the place setting a couple of chairs down from me. Definitely far enough that I know without a doubt he won’t reach out and hold my hand, but still, he made me food.
“Why are you being nice to me?”
“You want me to be mean?”
“You said I tried to hit you last night and insulted you.”
“You insulted me when you walked in here and insinuated I was a creep and potentially took advantage of you.” He meets my gaze. “I understand you’re mad and you think I’m a liar, but I’m not a bastard, Morgan. I would never do that to you or anyone.”
“I know.” I set my fork down, suddenly not as hungry as I was when I walked in here. “I’m sorry.”
“So am I,” he says, sighing. “Look, I’ve been thinking and maybe it’s best we remain friends until after Devon and Nora’s wedding.”
I blink. “Oh. Okay.”
“I just want to keep the peace, especially around their big day. They don’t deserve to have to deal with our drama and we shouldn’t bring that kind of vibe around them.”
“I agree,” I whisper, even though I’m not sure I do.
I was fully prepared to argue with him today, or maybe just talk things through. More than anything, I wanted him to prove me wrong about him. Friends is good though.
“You do?” he asks, his eyebrows pulling in.
For a second, I think he may retract his statement. I await it on bated breath. It was just last night that he told me he missed me, that he couldn’t stand being away from me, but maybe that was a lie too. I force myself to eat half of the contents on my plate and clean up the rest quickly, washing the dishes and setting them on the drying rack. I dry my hands and toss the towel down as I make my way out of the kitchen again.
“Thanks for breakfast.”
“Any time,” he says, his jaw clenched.
He looks uncomfortable, but why? I shake the thought away as I walk out of the kitchen, glancing back one last time just as I round the corner to take the stairs, and catch him hanging his head between his arms.
Chapter Forty-Four
Bennett
After a rocky night with Morgan, I promised Devon I’d steer clear from her path until after the wedding.
“If you want to go after her, fine,” he said, “but wait until after. I don’t want my wedding to become a Jerry Springer episode. Nora doesn’t deserve that.”
He’s right, of course. Not that I would ever let things escalate like that. Before last night I would have said Morgan wouldn’t either, but now I’m not so sure. One second, she was fine and the next she was acting like she was in the middle of a war zone, with hundreds of people attacking her, when in fact, it was just me trying to help her get ready for bed. She’d slapped me, called me an asshole, a cheater, a liar. She’d told me she’d never trust me again and that nothing I told her would change her mind. I hated it. I hated the distance, the way she looked at me with distrust, the way she didn’t argue when I said we should just remain friends for now.
It boggles my mind that she acted like she didn’t care at all, when inside I am dying because I don’t want to lose her. I’ve fallen in love with her and I don’t want to let her go, but letting her go is the only thing I can do.
For now.
Chapter Forty-Five
Morgan
Bennett: How’s the class going?
My pulse quickens at the sight of his name on my screen. My brother and Nora’s wedding is looming and I’m a few days away from finishing the gaming course. I haven’t seen Bennett in a week and a half and the only indication as to how he’s doing has been through the random text messages he’s sent, like this one, which isn’t saying much. The texts have been platonic and not very insightful as to how he’s actually feeling, or more accurately, how he’s feeling about us. Part of me is kind of grateful for that. The other part of me wishes like hell he’d say more, do more, because the more days that pass, the less I want this to end. I gather myself and text back.
Me: It’s surprisingly fun
Bennett: I miss seeing you around SEVEN
I bite my lip, smiling, as I think of what to type.
Me: You only miss me because you don’t have any friends there
Bennett: For this exact reason
My mood sours when I think about what Paola said during one of the first calls she made to SEVEN. She’d claimed Bennett had slept with all of his previous assistants and that it was the reason they were no longer there. Wesley claimed it was most likely a lie, but I never asked Bennett directly, and after the whole cheating thing I wish I had. It’s not ideal, though, to have to ask someone direct questions in order to get answers they should be offering up regardless. Finally, my curiosity gets the best of me.
Me: Did you really sleep with your previous assistants?
Bennett: Absolutely not and you can ask every single one of them if it’ll make you feel better
Me: That’s the thing. I shouldn’t have to.
I put my phone down and keep working on the homework assigned in today’s class. When my phone rings again, it’s a number I don’t recognize, but an area code that automatically sends my heart racing.
“Hello?”
“Morgan. It’s Mom.”
“Mom?” My heart drops. “What’s wrong? How did you get my number?”
“I’m . . . I need help.”
“What kind of help? What happened? Where are you?”
“Rodney’s house. I moved in last week.”
“Okay,” I say warily because she sounds off. “Are you . . . using?”
“Not. Not yet. I haven’t, I swear, but I want to. I really want to, Morgie.” She starts to audibly cry and I swear the sound feels like a sharp object to my heart. “I called my sponsor. I called Devon but he’s not answering. I’m out of options.”
“I’m thousands of miles away.” I close my eyes. “I . . . what am I supposed to do?”
Not to mention, I swore her out of my life. I don’t say that because it feels like a trigger and I wouldn’t forgive myself if I was the reason she went over the edge again, especially with Devon’s wedding looming over us.
“I don’t know,” she whispers after a moment.
“Where’s Rodney?”
“Out of the country for work.”
“I . . . “ I bury my face in my hands. Even if I do go, I’d miss the next two classes and I don’t know what that would mean for the class in its entirety, but if I don’t go, she’ll call Devon and he has too much on his plate as it is. I’ll just have to do this the way I did all those times growing up—by myself. “I can be over there tonight. Will you be okay until tonight? I’ll drive you to the place we took you to last time. You liked that place. It had pretty gardens and yoga.”
“Yeah.”
“It’ll be like a spa weekend.”
“I’d like that.”
“But you canno
t use, Mom. You can’t. No matter how tempting it is, you can’t use before I get there.”
“Okay. I won’t.”
Despite myself, I feel tears prick my eyes. We both know what I’m asking is impossible, but if she makes it, if she’s able to keep from using until I get there it will make all of the difference.
“I’m going to hang up now. I’ll be there tonight.”
“Tonight,” she repeats.
I hang up quickly because I can’t stand the despondence in her voice. It’s still early enough that I can pass by SEVEN and catch Mr. Cruz there. I hate that I have to do this, but I don’t see any other option, so I pack a few quick things in an overnight bag and head over there, with my mother on my mind. If she goes into rehab tomorrow, there’s no way she’s making it to Devon’s wedding. It’s cutting it too close. The last time she went to rehab we couldn’t even speak to her until she had detoxed and was in there a couple of weeks. I bite the tip of my thumb to keep from crying. Devon will be so disappointed. Despite all of her flaws, he really loves her and wants her by his side through it all.
Thankfully, Mr. Cruz is still at work when I finally get there. I knock on the door after Patty tells me he’s in there, and he calls out for me to step inside. I do, freezing when I see Bennett sitting down across from him, much like that first day I arrived here, but this time I catch them both off guard.
“I’m so sorry to interrupt your meeting,” I say, keeping my eyes on Mr. Cruz. “I need to speak to you.”
The Trouble With Love: New York Times Bestselling Author Page 20