Andi shrugged and flipped on the kitchen faucet to wash her hands. Ben stood next to her, waiting his turn. As he took the dish towel his fingers brushed hers, sending tingles up her arm. Ben looked up, his dark brown eyes holding hers. Andi quickly released the towel and cleared her throat. What was wrong with her? This was Ben. Ben, the boy she’d danced with every day for a year, and he’d had zero effect on her. Ben, the guy that lived down the hall and was still hung up on his ex-fiancée.
She pulled one of the California rolls out of the fridge, then found a knife.
“What can I do?” Ben asked.
Andi quickly looked around the kitchen before settling on a bag of chips near her. “You can refill the chip bowl.”
“Okay.”
She reached for the chip bag at the same time Ben did. Andi’s arms bumped against his chest, and she froze.
“Sorry,” she whispered.
A slow grin spread across Ben’s face. He didn’t back away, and neither did Andi.
“I don’t mind,” he said. His voice was quiet too. He reached forward slowly, tentatively. Andi watched his hand, her stomach swarming with butterflies. His fingers caressed a lock of her hair that had fallen loose, and he tucked it behind her ear.
Andi sucked in a breath. Fire ignited at his touch, and she wanted to lean forward and wrap her arms around his neck. Just feel his heart beat next to hers.
For years they’d been friends. Years. And she’d never once viewed him as more. Until the last two weeks.
“We should finish getting the food ready,” Ben said. They stood so close his breath wafted over her. It smelled like mint mixed with cream cheese frosting, like he’d eaten one of the sugar cookies she’d sent home with him.
“Right,” Andi said. But she didn’t move, and neither did Ben.
“Andi, I—”
Ding-dong.
Andi and Ben sprang apart. A moment later the sliding glass door slid open.
“Wonder who that could be?” Rachel said, her voice perky and bright. She walked through the kitchen to the front entry.
Andi raised an eyebrow, and Ben shrugged. He stepped away, and the spell was broken. He grabbed the bag of chips and pulled them open. Andi carefully set the California roll on a cutting board and picked up the knife.
Rachel’s voice drifted in from the entryway. “What a pleasant surprise.”
Andi and Ben both froze.
“Maybe my parents showed up?” Ben suggested, dropping the bag of chips back onto the counter.
Andi shrugged and followed him into the entryway. “Could be someone she didn’t think would make it to the party. I can’t—”
Ben froze. Andi plowed into the back of him, squishing her nose against his shoulder blade. She stumbled back but quickly caught herself. She looked up at Ben, opening her mouth to tease him for the mishap. His face had gone ashen white, and his mouth hung open.
“Whitney?” he said.
Andi whirled toward the front door. A pretty woman stood there, with strawberry blonde hair cut shoulder-length and teased into sexy waves. She shifted from foot to foot, a hesitant smile on her face.
“Hi, Ben. Happy New Year’s Eve.”
Ben blinked. When he opened his eyes, Whitney still stood there. Her strawberry hair with the brown and blonde highlights barely brushed her shoulders. She’d cut it since he’d seen her last. A lot. It was now the length it had been when they first met. The length he’d told her was his favorite. She’d even done those wavy curls he adored, the ones she’d take forever to create with a flat iron.
His heart ached to pull her into his arms while his mind screamed to shove her right back out the door. Emotions, confusing and intense, swirled within him.
Rachel hugged Whitney. “I’m so glad you’re here. Come in, come in.”
Ben wanted to strangle his sister. What did she think she was doing?
“Whitney, this is Andi, my best friend,” Rachel said.
Whitney offered a warm smile—the one he thought of as her actress smile. She used it when she was nervous and unsure but didn’t want to show it. “It’s nice to meet you, Andi.”
“You too,” Andi murmured. She darted a glance at Ben, and he saw the confusion in her eyes.
“We should leave you two alone,” Rachel said. She grabbed Andi’s hand and tugged. “A few people have been asking about you outside. I told them I’d come find you.”
Ben sent Andi a pleading look. Don’t leave. I helped you with Mark. Now’s your turn to return the favor. But either his powers of persuasion weren’t working, or she ignored him. Andi shot him one last glance, then followed Rachel out of the room.
“You look good,” Whitney said into the silent foyer.
Ben folded his arms across his chest. She’d lost weight over the past month, and the dark circles under her eyes, not quite hidden with concealer, made him wonder when she’d last slept. Both were familiar signs of mania that had his stomach clenched with nerves. But she looked good, too. Great, even. She wore a fitted button-up shirt, one of those striped ones he went crazy over. It was unbuttoned halfway to show her white undershirt, and she wore jeans that clung to her like a glove and hooped earrings that made him want to nibble her neck.
But no. That part of his life was over. They were over.
Outside, the party guest burst into laughter, loud and happy. Ben longed to go outside and join them. Maybe if he closed his eyes, Whitney would disappear and this would turn out to be a nightmare. He leaned against the wall that separated the foyer from the formal living room and folded his arms. He didn’t invite her in or ask her to sit down. This conversation shouldn’t take long. “What are you doing here, Whitney?”
“Isn’t it obvious? I came to find you.”
“Your parents told me you couldn’t get out of bed. That you were suicidal.” He’d been worried sick. And here she stood, acting as though nothing was wrong. His blood boiled.
Whitney looked away. “They exaggerated. I was depressed over losing you.”
“You broke up with me.”
Whitney swallowed. Her fingers drummed against her leg in the nervous gesture he’d seen a thousand times before. In the past, he would’ve taken her hand in both of his and slowly massaged it until all the muscles relaxed and her shoulders sank with a sigh.
But not this time.
“I made a mistake.” She motioned to the couch. “Can we sit? I just drove in from Vegas and I’m exhausted.”
Ben grunted and walked into the formal living room, her footsteps echoing behind him. He sank into the wing-backed chair, just to make sure she didn’t try to cuddle close on the couch. “Your mother called me yesterday, worried sick. She said they were coming to see you.”
“They were going to, but I convinced them what I really needed was to see you again. I made a mistake, Ben. I wasn’t myself.” Her fingers still tapped against her thigh. The red nail polish flashed, fresh and gleaming with a top coat. She must’ve stopped at a salon.
A fresh manicure usually meant she was coming out of a depressive phase and entering a manic one. Shopping sprees and spa days were the first sign.
“You didn’t even have the decency to give me the ring back in person,” Ben said. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to wake up one morning and find your fiancée gone?”
“I wasn’t myself. If I’d been in my right mind, I never would’ve left you. Please, Ben. You have to believe me.”
“I do believe you.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “You do?”
“Of course. Because that’s how it always is, Whit.” He winced as soon as the nickname left his mouth. It felt too familiar. Too intimate. He didn’t have that right any longer.
“I know, and I’m sorry. I’m trying to get better.”
Hope leapt in his breast. If she was finally willing to be proactive about her health, maybe they could work out their issues. “You’re seeing a psychiatrist?”
“Better than a psychiatrist. Claire has an
herbalist I’ve been trying out. It’s working wonders—”
Ben swore and stood. “You’ve already tried that. We tried everything. The medication is the only thing that works.”
Whitney glared at him. She folded her arms tightly, and Ben struggled to keep his focus on the angry purse of her lips. “You’ve never supported my medical decisions. All you want is to drug me and make sure I’m perky and upbeat. You don’t want the real me—you want some twisted, medicated version.” Her lips curled in a sneer, and the hatred was back in her eyes, the disgust that made him believe her mental illness was all his fault.
Exhaustion swept through him. Ben raised his hands to his eyes and rubbed hard. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be in a relationship where you blame me for everything that goes wrong. I know you have a medical problem. But you refuse to manage it, and it turns you into someone I can’t be with.”
Whitney stood. Her chest rose and fell, and he saw the hot anger in her eyes. But she was trying to hold back, to not upset him too badly. He knew because she hadn’t started throwing things yet. “I didn’t come here to argue about my disorder.”
“Then why did you come?”
“To get you back.”
He sucked in a breath, his heart twisting. He ached to pull her into his arms and accept whatever half-truths and outright lies she fed him, just to spend a few more months happy. She rested her hand gently on his arm, soft and warm against his skin. He closed his eyes as the scent of jasmine hit him. A thousand memories flooded through his mind, the good and the bad.
“I miss you,” Whitney said. “I thought I would destroy you if we stayed together. So I left the ring and bolted.”
Ben closed his eyes and struggled to clear his mind. He couldn’t let his heart take over on this one. “How can I be sure you won’t do that again? You’ve done that three times. Do you have any idea what that’s like?”
“It won’t happen again.”
“Can you promise me you won’t leave again? Can you promise me you won’t threaten to kill yourself every time something doesn’t go your way? Can you promise to not blame me for everything that goes wrong?”
“Yes. I’m seeing an herbalist—”
Ben yanked his arm out of her grasp and sank into the chair, resting his elbows on his knees. “What makes this one different than the three we saw last time?”
“My state of mind. I saw an iridologist who helped me discover what negative emotions are blocking the herbs’ ability to work.”
“You need a doctor. Someone who went to medical school and has a license and a degree and a reputable practice. We tried everything. Explored every avenue. And medication is the only thing that helps you, Whitney.”
“This isn’t what I want to talk about—”
“This is the whole reason we aren’t together!” Ben exploded. “You don’t see our relationship as it really is. I loved you, Whitney. I would’ve done anything for you. But you weren’t willing to let me in. And now it’s too late. I won’t be your whipping boy anymore.”
Whitney’s eyes filled with tears, making the green luminescent. He ached to reach out and pull her to him. But he couldn’t. He refused to go there again. That relationship hadn’t been healthy for either of them.
“I’m not giving up. We’re meant to be together, Benjamin. And I’m going to prove it to you.” She wiped under her eyes, then reached into her purse and removed a business card. “I’m staying at a hotel near the airport. Room 322. But it doesn’t matter if you don’t come. Because this isn’t over, and I will see you again. I’m not leaving California until I’m with you.”
Ben didn’t try to stop her as she strode across the room and shut the door. He heard the rev of an engine, and then headlights flashed across the window as she drove away.
A moment later, metal scraped against plastic as the sliding glass door opened. Rachel walked into the room. Had she been spying? “Where did Whitney go?”
Ben held up the business card. “I’m guessing to her hotel.”
“You didn’t invite her to stay for the party?”
“No, Rachel. I didn’t invite my ex-fiancée to the party.”
“But it’s New Year’s Eve.”
Regret twinged in his gut as he thought of Whitney spending the night alone in a cold, unfeeling hotel room. Would she lie in bed and stare into nothing? Cry gallons of tears? Go down to the bar and drink enough to kill her because she thought she was invincible?
He tried to push the worry from his mind. She wasn’t his responsibility anymore. She could’ve spent New Year’s Eve with her parents in Las Vegas, or back home in Arizona.
“How long is she staying?” Rachel asked.
Ben sighed and followed Rachel back outside. He looked around at the laughing, happy faces of the party guests. Andi said something to the woman she was chatting with and walked toward him. Ben waited until she was in hearing range so he wouldn’t have to explain it twice.
“She says she’s staying until we’re back together,” Ben said.
Andi’s eyes widened. The crackling fire reflected off her irises, and he longed to reach out and pull her to him in a hug.
“That’s so great, Ben,” Rachel said. “You should’ve invited her to stay here. Hotels are so impersonal and expensive.”
“Whitney and I aren’t getting back together. That ship has sailed.”
Rachel rolled her eyes as though he was being ridiculous. “I’m going to go check on Adam. That cobbler should be done soon.”
Andi rested a hand on Ben’s arm. “Are you okay?” she asked quietly.
Ben swallowed hard and nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
But he wasn’t okay. Whitney was back. And he knew from the fire in her eyes that she’d meant every word she’d said.
Andi watched Ben as he chatted with one of Adam’s business colleagues. He held a beer in one hand, and the flickering firelight danced shadows across his face. His lips were curved up in a smile, but she could see his stress in the way he clenched the beer bottle, the stiff way he held his shoulders.
Rachel came over and handed Andi a plate with a piece of cobbler on it. “I saw you hadn’t got any,” she said. “I think this is Adam’s best yet.”
“Thanks,” Andi said, her voice flat. She stabbed at the cobbler with the fork.
Rachel’s brow furrowed. “Is everything okay? You seem tense.”
“What was that about?” Andi motioned her head toward the house.
“Oh, Whitney?” Rachel’s eyes sparkled. “Isn’t it great? I’m so happy for them.”
“Happy for them?” Andi let out a frustrated laugh. “Whitney ambushed Ben. And I’m guessing you helped her do it.”
Rachel folded her arms, her eyes narrowing. “I didn’t know until Whitney was already here. She’d lost my address so she called and asked me for it. She wanted to surprise Ben, and I thought it was a good idea.”
“That woman broke Ben’s heart.” She wanted to call Whitney something much worse than woman, but bit back the words. Andi shoved the cobbler in her mouth, desperate for something to keep the word vomit from exploding out.
The cobbler melted on her tongue, warm and gooey. Oh wow. That was good. It almost made her a believer in sweets.
“No relationship is entirely one person’s fault,” Rachel said. “I love my brother, but he’s not perfect. I’m sure he made mistakes too. But a relationship isn’t about keep score, it’s about working things out.”
“I don’t think Ben wants to work it out.”
“Ben doesn’t know what he wants.”
Andi growled and took another bite of cobbler. “He’s a grown man. You have to let him make his own decisions.”
“You hadn’t talked to Ben until a few weeks ago for, what, five years? You know nothing about Ben and Whitney, or their relationship.”
Andi frowned, not liking the truth behind Rachel’s words. “Ben’s told me enough that I can guess it wasn’t healthy. For either of them.”
“Oh, don’t try to analyze the situation.” Rachel ran a hand through her hair, clearly agitated.
Andi and Rachel rarely fought—Rachel said it was unfair to have to go against a lawyer trained in arguing—but Andi was ready to go to battle for Ben. “You need to back off, Rach. This time you went too far.”
“Why do you care?” Rachel’s voice rose, and a few of the party guests conversing nearby glanced over at them. Rachel gave them a winning smile, then glared at Andi and lowered her voice. “This has nothing to do with you.”
“Ben is my friend, and I don’t appreciate what you’re doing to him.”
“I’m your friend too—your best friend. I thought you’d be on my side.”
Andi shifted, the heat of the fire suddenly too much. She would burn into ash if she had to stay here any longer. “I am on your side. But I think you’re wrong about this one.”
Rachel rocked back on her heels, her eyes lighting with understanding. “Oh my gosh,” she said.
“What?” Andi self-consciously smoothed down her hair.
“You like Ben.”
“Of course not.” The words were out of her mouth before she could think, too quick to be believable. Andi folded her arms. “I mean, obviously I like him as a friend. I don’t want to see him get hurt.”
“No, you like like him.” Rachel pointed an accusing finger at Andi. “You’re blushing. You have a crush on my brother.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Sure, being near him made her entire body ignite in flames. But that was only because it had been a while since she’d been attracted to a man other than Mark. Any woman would feel the same in Ben’s presence, with his boyish smile and flirtatious teasing. No woman could ignore how his five o’clock shadow made him look rugged and how his backside looked in jeans. She’d have to be dead not to notice. And it had been a long time since she’d talked so freely with a man. He made her laugh, and when he looked at her she felt special.
Oh my gosh. She was falling for Ben. How had she let this happen?
“Is something going on between you two?” Rachel asked.
“Of course not.” Andi had known she was attracted to Ben, of course. She wasn’t a complete idiot. But it had taken Rachel to point out Andi’s feelings were much stronger than a simple crush.
Not Your Match Page 10