by AC Netzel
None from Ben.
I sit on a sandstone bench at the Terrace overlooking the fountain, the heat from the sun warming my skin. It’s the perfect weather to take a long lunch and have an impromptu picnic with Ben.
The statue of the Angel of the Waters is probably rolling her eyes when she spots me sitting by the fountain she stands atop of. She should be used to it by now. It’s become my favorite thinking spot.
There are about a dozen pigeons lined up on top of the Angel’s wings. I narrow my eyes and focus on the birds. When Ben’s grandmother died, she was convinced she’d come back as a pigeon and meet her deceased husband. I thought I met them here once. I know—crazy. But at the time, they seemed to listen. And I needed to be heard.
Last time, they flew over and greeted me. This time, I think they’ve abandoned me too. Not that I blame them. Kitty was protective of Ben. She’s probably pretty angry at me right now. Only Kitty, the pigeon, could make me eat crow.
On second thought, I better duck if I see them coming. She’s bound to drop a bomb from the sky onto the top of my head. I saw her do it to Pierce when she watched him asking me out after Ben and I were going through a rough time. Pigeon Kitty doesn’t take shit from anyone, but she sure can dish it out.
The fountain water cascades into the basin where four bronze cherubs stand then into the large pool below. The crash of the water splashing into the pool sounds like a rain storm, and it usually soothes me.
Not today.
A soapy bubble floats in the air, drifting in front of my face. I turn to my side and watch a little girl blowing bubbles through a small pink plastic wand with her mother. The father is creating more bubbles from a giant wand. His son, who must be two or three years old, giggles and chases it, jumping in the air to pop it.
I manage a small smile. That’s what I always pictured for us. The ideal, happy family. Ben would be a great dad. I know he would. I can see him sitting at the desk in his study, a large silver coin in one hand, a magnifying glass in the other, with our two children seated on his lap as he shares his prized coin collection with them. I’d walk in the room and watch quietly, smiling at the knowledge that one of our kids was probably conceived on that desk. We’d be the perfect family.
The one I’m still counting on.
I rummage through the bottom of my handbag, tilting it to the side, avoiding broken eyeliner bits and crumbled up ATM receipts in search for some change. I pull out a penny. I’ll take what I can get. A coin is a coin.
“Please make us okay,” I whisper, kissing my fisted hand then throw the penny into the water.
I sit and wait for my wish to come true, checking my phone for the hundredth time. Nothing. I know I have to stop hoping and take action. But I’m scared.
To say it’s over in anger is one thing. If he repeats it, it’s real. He’s already canceled the hall. By now, he’s probably told his family.
Cam-eel is almost certainly shaving her legs right now, looking forward to a rebound quickie. The bitch.
Allie’s right. I need to get over her.
I stare down at my feet, my shoulders slumped, my heart heavy. The thought of being without Ben is too much to bear. The pain in my chest is excruciating. My body’s closing itself down until I’m numb. I feel nothing because I may have just lost everything.
I focus on a small pebble near my foot until my vision blurs, closing down my thoughts as I wait for my courage to make an appearance.
After sitting for who knows how long, I take in a deep breath. I blink a few times to better focus on the concrete I’ve been zoning out on. Something in my line of vision is different.
I gasp, and my hand flies to my mouth. I close my eyes as my hands tremble.
Slowly, I tilt my head up and open my eyes. He’s standing in front of me. I straighten my posture, simultaneously confused, shocked, relieved, and absolutely terrified.
Dark circles are under his eyes. All signs of their usual sparkle are gone.
He clearly hasn’t slept. And he looks sad.
So sad.
I did that to him.
He sits next to me without saying a word and stares directly at the fountain. I look straight ahead too, unsure of what to do or what to say. I wait for him to reach for my hand, but he doesn’t. He continues to watch the fountain, or past the fountain. I don’t know where his thoughts are. And I’m not sure I’m ready to know.
We sit in silence for what feels like a lifetime. The only sounds are the white noise of the fountain’s water falling into the basin and the idle chatter of people around us. Occasionally I sneak a quick peek at his profile, but he never breaks, never steals a look back.
Glancing down at my lap, I nod to myself, knowing that I’m the one who has to go first. I clear my throat, turning toward him and the words I swallowed down bubble back up.
“I want to say something to you, and I don’t want you to say anything until I’m done. Please just listen.”
He never breaks his stare straight ahead or nods to acknowledge me, but I continue anyway.
“I understand if you changed your mind... about getting married. You love me. I know you do. But I also know that sometimes it’s not enough. I said some terrible things last night that I regret. And you probably don’t like me right now. But if you give me a chance, maybe I can get you to like me again. Because I like you. A lot. So hear me out.
“There’s something wrong with me. I know that. I’ve got one foot in the asylum. But here’s the thing— there’s something wrong with you too. You fell in love with a crazy person. And when you think about it, that makes you a little nuttier than me.
“I mean… You’re in love with someone who’s certifiable. That has to mean you’re missing a few screws too. Maybe even a little stupid. Don’t you think?”
He opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something, then closes it again, steepling his fingers in front of his lips. I continue…
“Knowing all that about you, I still love you. Desperately.
“Besides, if you don’t stay with me, I’ll probably stalk you. That’s how utterly crazy I am about you. And in general.”
I shrug, looking down at my feet, twisting my engagement ring around my finger and continue pleading my case.
“We don’t have to get married, Ben. I just want to be with you. Any way I can have you—despite the fact that I’ve just proven that you’re stupid and crazier than me.
“So, please don’t go. I don’t want a life without you. Just don’t leave me. Okay?” My voice cracks.
He stares down at the ground, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand but doesn’t respond.
Pieces of my heart crumble and break inside my chest. Ben’s reluctance to look me in the eye is painful.
“Please say something,” I say softly, with tears in my eyes. “Anything.”
He takes in a deep breath and exhales it slowly.
My stomach’s in knots as I run my hands up and down my thighs. If I didn’t know I was on land, I’d swear I’m seasick. I want to stop him from speaking, knowing that I still have him, for a little while anyway. But I know it can’t be that way, so I ready myself for what’s to come.
He looks up and turns toward me. And I brace myself.
“I promise to pretend that I don’t know you read gossip magazines, even when I find them hidden under our bed,” he says.
Closing my eyes tight, warm tears roll down my cheeks, and my shoulders shake. I concentrate on the smooth tone of his voice as he continues.
“I promise to subject you to my family only in extreme circumstances. And Christmas Day.
“I promise not to stare at your ass more than twice a day. Unless you wear those black yoga pants I like. Then all bets are off.”
I chuckle through my tears, astonished that he’s here, reciting bad wedding vows to me. And they’re perfect.
So perfectly perfect.
He takes my hand, lacing our fingers together. I close my eyes tighter and listen.
“I promise to ensure there’s always a pile of clothes on your side of our bed in case of fire— so the neighbors won’t see you naked when you run out of the building.”
I open my eyes to see him smiling at me tenderly. He brushes away my tears with his thumb and continues speaking.
“I promise not to judge you when you eat cupcakes for breakfast. And lunch. And dinner.
“I promise to tolerate our children rooting for the Mets. As long as they root equally for the Yankees.”
I laugh through my tears again. Our children. He still sees our future.
Together.
“Lastly, I promise to love you every single day of my life. Because despite the fact that I’m apparently crazy and stupid,” he nudges me with his shoulder, raising an amused brow, “In my heart I know, for me… It’ll always be you.”
My heart squeezes a little tighter. Cue the waterworks. I’m all-out sobbing in-between chuckles.
“Ben, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean anything I said yesterday.”
“I know.” He smiles.
“I was upset about my mother. You were right about everything.”
“I know.”
“And I don’t think you’re stupid.”
“It was a compelling argument.” His smile widens.
“I’m an idiot.”
“Julia…”
I interrupt him. “I never thought you had a side piece. I trust you completely. And I meant what I said. We don’t have to get married. We can live together. We can…”
He places a finger against my lips, halting my apology mid-sentence. My heart beats wildly at his touch.
“Julia,” he says.
“I love you so much,” I mumble through his finger.
He chuckles, his smile beaming. “Shut the fuck up and let me kiss you.”
He grabs my face on either side with his strong hands, brushing his lips oh-so-lightly against mine then kisses me so tenderly, so beautifully beautiful, my heart soars. And the waterworks start again.
“Happy tears?” he whispers against my lips.
“Deliriously happy,” I whisper back, my heart filled with pure, radiant joy.
He kisses me again and everything feels right.
So very right.
~o0o~
We sit silently on the sandstone bench, my head resting on his shoulder, his arm around me. I know there’s more to be said and so much to undo, but I don’t want to ruin this moment, so I go for light.
“How did you know I was here?” I ask.
“I didn’t. I went to your apartment to find you and caught Allie as she was leaving. She told me you went to my place, so I went back there.”
“I chickened out.”
“Yeah, I figured it was something like that when the doorman didn’t see you. I sent Allie a text. She said to come here.”
“She knows I come here when I miss you.” She really is my Fairy Fucking Godmother.
“Why do you come here? What does the fountain have to do with us?”
“You once told me you’d throw your entire coin collection in the fountain and wish we were never apart. I guess I was waiting for you to throw them.”
“I see,” he says, digging into his jeans pocket. He pulls out a quarter and throws it in the fountain.
“What did you wish for?”
“Same wish. Always the same wish.”
I reach across and glide my hand across his cheek. “You are such a good man. I don’t care if we get married. I just want to be with you.”
“Do you honestly think I don’t want to marry you?”
I blow out a breath. “No.”
“I’m doing this once. And it’s going to be with you. I want it perfect.”
“I’m a fool,” I say.
“A fool for marrying someone so stupid?” he teases.
I laugh. “I’d be foolish if I didn’t marry you. Although I don’t understand why you still want to marry me, clearly I’m unstable.”
“Yeah, but you’re good in bed.”
I slap his chest. “Hey!”
“It was meant as a compliment.” He chuckles, tapping his index finger to his cheek. I lean over and kiss him.
“Seriously, why do you love me?” I ask.
He looks at me thoughtfully, tucking a few strands of hair behind my ear.
“Because you let me.”
Chapter 16
Standing up, he extends his hand out to me. “Let’s get out of here. I want to take you somewhere.”
He pulls me off the bench and we walk hand in hand out of the Terrace area. Thank God he’s leading the way because I can’t take my eyes off him.
This wonderful, forgiving man just proved why he’s the love of my life. I’d always look back on our wedding day with some regret. He knew I’d never be truly happy without my mother there. But I didn’t have the courage to call it off. So he did.
He took my burden and carried it for me. He owed me nothing and gave me everything at a time when I was too selfish to see his heart was breaking too.
I’ll always love him for that.
We stop at The Great Lawn. I turn to him and smile. “This is where we met.”
He nods, grabbing me by my waist, and pulling me into an embrace.
“I was so afraid I was going to lose you,” I whisper.
“I’m not going anywhere.” He holds me tighter and kisses me. I pour every ounce of love I have for him into our kiss, elated to be here with him. The butterflies are fluttering wildly in my stomach. “Are you up to sitting in the grass for a little while?” he asks.
I nod. “I’m up to anything.” As long as it’s with you.
“This way.” He takes my hand and walks across the grass in a deliberate direction. “Here.” We stop and he sits, pulling my hand down to join him.
“What’s here?” I ask, sitting next to him.
“This is the exact spot we met.”
“Really? How do you remember that?”
“I remember everything about meeting you. I’ll never forget the way you looked.”
“Oh please, you probably had a dozen girls try to pick you up that day.”
“Just you,” he teases.
It was a dare! I want to scream it, but I let it go. There’s no way in hell I’m spoiling this.
“You looked amazing in that pink bikini,” he adds.
“I wore a cover-up when I came over to you. How did you know I was wearing a pink bikini?”
“I watched you walk back to your towel and take it off. I watched you the rest of the day.”
“I had no idea. So you liked me, huh?” I nudge his side.
“When I looked up at you, I thought ‘Wow’. Still do, every time I see you. You’re the sexiest woman I ever met. How do you think I remembered you so well when we met that first time for dinner? I could never forget those gorgeous green eyes.” He chuckles. “And that perfect ass when you walked to your seat.”
I laugh. “I checked out your ass too, so I guess we’re even.”
“Guess so,” he says, amused.
“Allie and I nicknamed you Mr. Khaki Shorts.”
“Well thought out. It must have taken you hours to come up with that.”
“Very funny.”
I lean into him, resting my head on his shoulder. His body tenses like he’s bracing himself for something and the smile he was wearing a minute ago fades.
“I canceled the hall,” he says matter-of-factly, but I know he’s gauging my response.
I sigh. “I know.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah.” Pressing my lips to his shoulder, I give him a quick kiss. “I’m okay.”
It’s the truth. All that matters is this. Me and him. However I have it, as long as I have it, platinum band around my finger or not, I’m good.
“What else have you canceled?” I ask.
“Limo, band.” He shrugs. “A few other things. We still have to take care of the church, the cakes, Marcello, and
Stuart.”
“Oh my God, Stuart’s going to die.”
He chuckles. “He’ll be fine.”
“Does your family know?”
“Not yet. I’ll call them later.”
“Can you call my mother?”
“Your mother will be fine too.”
“She’s going to flip out.”
“She’s in no condition to flip,” he jokes. “We’ll tell her together.”
“I see a lot of stress eating in my future. Can we keep the cupcake favors?”
“I was planning on donating them to a local food bank. I already made arrangements with the hall to donate the meals we’ve paid for.”
He thinks of everything.
“I love you, Ben,” I blurt out.
“I love you too.”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For not marrying me.”
“Yet. Not marrying you yet.” He smiles, taking my left hand and kissing my ring finger.
“Yet,” I repeat and smile back.
“Oh, I almost forgot. I have something for you.” He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper. “Here,” he says, holding it out to me.
“What’s this?” I ask, taking the paper from him.
“A list.”
“A list of what?”
“You said a lot of shitty things to me last night. You went as far as to accuse me of fucking around.”
My face reddens. “I didn’t mean any of it. I was overwhelmed. So stressed out about everything.”
“That,” he points to the paper, “is a list I compiled last night of all the things you have to do to make it up to me.”
“So your forgiveness comes at a price?”
“A twenty bullet-point price. Read it.” He juts his chin at the paper.
“Okay.” Slowly, I unfold it and read the first line. “Seriously? Topless Tuesdays?”
“You know I’m a breast man. When you come home from work, your top comes off.”
“You’re just going to gawk at my tits all night?”
“I reserved the right to touch them too. Read on.”
I stare down at the paper again. “Numbers three, four, seven, and eight all involve blow jobs.”
“If you want my forgiveness, you’ll have to suck it out of me.” A sly, sexy smile lifts from the side of his mouth. It warms my insides.