But no matter where I travel in the room, I can’t seem to stop tracking Ben like a tagged shark. Every cell in my body is attuned to him, no matter how hard I try to concentrate on the person standing in front of me. Eventually, I quit trying, grab a water, and head for a table where Stephen, Tessa, Luke, John, and some of our other friends have congregated.
“Hey, guys,” I say, slipping my heels off briefly and groaning in relief. “What am I missing over here?”
“Oh, not much, just talking about how nauseating it is to watch the never-ending victory laps our Republican friends insist on taking,” Tessa says.
“They have no shame,” Luke agrees.
“Midterms, guys, midterms,” John reminds everyone, tireless cheerleader that he is.
I’m barely able to suppress my eye roll, suddenly so tired of this endless disparagement and petty hostility. In fact, I’m tired of everything: my friends, this job, the judgment and vilification that go along with it. Tired even of my own prejudices. Is this what I’ve sounded like these past few years? Is this what I sound like to Ben?
“Aren’t you guys sick of this?” I say suddenly, and a bunch of heads swivel toward me. “It feels like all we ever talk about. All we ever think about. So they’re doing things differently than we would. Does that really make them the enemy?”
There’s a beat of silence as they eye each other. “Kate, honey, I think you need a drink,” Tessa says, holding out her glass. “Here, have some of my champagne.”
“I don’t need a drink. I just need to feel like I’m not part of some adult version of Mean Girls,” I mutter.
Right then I notice Marcus approaching our table and, ignoring the nonplussed looks on my friends’ faces, step forward to greet him. He surprises me by wrapping me in a tight hug.
“How are you?” he asks in a low voice when he pulls back. “I was hoping I’d run into you tonight.”
“I’m okay,” I answer hesitantly. While I never asked Ben outright if he’d told Marcus about us, it’s obvious from the sympathetic way he’s looking at me that he knows something. I hang on to him for an extra beat, feeling closer to him than to any of my so-called friends back at that table.
“Just okay, huh? Sounds like someone else I know.” At my uneasy expression, he pats my arm. “Don’t worry, I know how to be discreet. And you don’t have to talk about it. I just wanted to lend an ear if you need one.”
“Thank you,” I say, touched by his kindness. “It’s been . . . a rough week.”
“It’s been a rough week for those of us who have to work with grumpy, miserable assholes, too.”
That gets a laugh out of me. “What about you? No date tonight?” I ask, anxious to change the subject.
He shrugs. “I have a few irons in the fire.”
“A few? How many ladies do you string along at one time?”
He grabs his chest in mock offense. “String along? Ouch.”
“Hey, no judgment. Some of us can’t even manage one.” I sip my water and avoid his eyes.
He studies me for a moment. “Listen, he hasn’t told me much about what’s going on between you two, but for whatever it’s worth, you won’t find better than him. He’s who I’d pick for my sisters.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “I know I won’t. It’s just . . . complicated. I’ve made a mess of things.”
“Then uncomplicate it,” he says, matter-of-fact.
“I’m trying,” I say, voice wobbling. I’m too emotionally raw for this conversation.
Marcus clams up, clearly recognizing a volatile female psyche when he sees one. “Let me get you a refill. What are you drinking?”
“Water,” I respond, a little hoarsely. Do not lose it in the middle of this ballroom.
“Hope you’re not driving tonight.” He winks and squeezes my elbow before moving away. “Be right back.”
I’m furiously blinking back tears when Tessa materializes at my side.
“First you go all scorched earth on us back there, then I have to watch you flirt with another guy from Hammond’s office? Maybe I should’ve signed you up for RightField instead.”
It’s the last straw.
“Tessa, stop it,” I snap. “He saw that I’m down and tried to console me. I hardly think that deserves your scorn.”
She finally notices the unshed tears in my eyes and goes alert. “You’re down? Why are you down?”
I take a deep breath. “I broke up with someone.”
“You’ve been dating someone? Who?”
“Ben Mackenzie.” At her look of shock, I add defiantly, “Yep, that Ben.”
I can feel the eyeballs of everyone at the table on my back and I don’t even care. Suddenly, I want to shout this from the rooftops.
“You’ve been dating Ben? Since when?”
“Since a while,” I answer, before turning to address the blatant eavesdroppers at the table. John looks scandalized, while Stephen’s wearing a shit-eating grin. “And he’s wonderful. The most amazing man I’ve ever met, actually. And I kept it a secret so I wouldn’t have to deal with y’all’s judgment.” I’m so fired up, I can’t even remember to suppress my southern accent. “But you know what? I don’t care anymore.”
I grab the glass of champagne out of Tessa’s hand and knock it back in one deep swallow, then slam it down on the table. “And I’m going to fix this.”
Stephen whoops.
I scan the crowd for Ben, finding him deep in conversation with a group of men I’ve never seen before. I march over and tap him on the shoulder.
“Hey,” he says, reflexively pressing a hand to my back, then dropping it once he realizes. My expression must be alarming because his eyebrows knit together. “Everything okay?” he asks in a low voice.
“Everything’s fine. I just wanted to dance with you.”
His companions glance at one another, then at me, quickly excusing themselves.
He turns toward me, quirking a brow. “You want to dance?”
“What, you’re suddenly shy?”
He shoots me a bemused look but takes my outstretched hand, letting me lead him out onto the dance floor. When I find us a space that’s not too crowded, he places a hand at my waist and clasps my other hand out to the side, a yawning football field between us.
“There are eyes everywhere,” he murmurs.
His tone is teasing, but I know it masks a real hurt. There’s a wall between us now that didn’t exist before, and it’s all my fault. That I’ve dimmed the light in his eyes feels like a worse crime.
I drop his hand and twine my arms around his neck, pulling him to me until our bodies are touching. He raises an eyebrow but follows my lead, clasping his hands on my lower back and pressing me closer. I melt into him, molding to his contours like a strawberry dipped in chocolate. I try to memorize the feel of him in my arms in case it doesn’t last beyond this song.
“This event reminds me of the inaugural ball,” he muses.
“I wouldn’t know. I was too busy rocking myself in the fetal position.”
“I’ll have to fix that for the next one.”
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry at all his statement implies.
He scans the crowd. “What do you think, should we break out the two-step? That would really get this party started.”
“Mm, I don’t think I could stand the attention. I’m a wallflower bride, remember.”
He nods off the dance floor, where my friends are doing a poor job of pretending not to gawk at us. “Your not-so-secret admirer is watching us.”
I sigh. “You know I’m not interested in John.”
His face grows serious. “I do know.”
“If you know, then why did you give me such a hard time about him?” I ask, exasperated.
“Because I’m a jealous asshole.”
&nb
sp; My heart leaps. This is a good sign.
“Besides, even if I wasn’t sure, your coma face makes it very obvious.”
“My coma face?”
“When you talk to him, you’re asleep with your eyes open. I’ve seen you do it loads of times.”
“I don’t do that!” I protest, indignant.
“You absolutely do that.”
“I’ve never done it with you!”
“Not with me,” he says, like the very idea offends him to his core. “To people who bore you.”
I consider that. “One thing we’re not is boring.”
“Ain’t that the truth.” As if to prove his point, he spins me out in dramatic fashion, then reels me back in. The song’s already starting to wind down and my pulse picks up.
It’s time. Enough stalling, Kate.
“Hey, Ben?”
“Hey, Kate?”
“I’m so sorry for the things I said. I didn’t mean any of it. I can never begin to express how much I regret it.”
His dancing slows, his lips parting in surprise.
“You were right, I was scared. So, so scared of my feelings for you. And I thought I was doing the right thing for you, finally, after doing so many wrong things, but then I realized I did the worst thing of all by pushing you away. It was the biggest mistake of my life, and if nothing else, if you can’t forgive me, I want you to know that.”
Our swaying has stopped entirely now, and he’s staring at me like I’m speaking in tongues.
“I think you’re such an amazing person. Like, the best person. And sometimes I feel like I can’t live up to that, but I know it’s just the fear talking.” I swallow, pulse pounding in my ears. “I’ve let so many things get in the way of us, and I’ve hurt you and I’m ashamed and I want to fix it because there’s nothing worth losing you.
“I know I have no right to ask you for anything, and I wouldn’t blame you a bit for wanting off this crazy train, but . . . do you think you could forgive me anyway? And forget I ever said any of those things? And . . . take me back?”
He hasn’t moved in a full minute. I’m pretty sure if I poked him, he’d tip over. I decide to take advantage of his solidified state and rise up on my toes to kiss him, but he turns his head at the last second.
“People are watching,” he says roughly. He looks shaken.
“That’s the idea.”
“You don’t want to do this,” he says, glancing around. “You won’t be able to walk this back, Kate. You’re going to regret it tomorrow.”
“I’m not going to regret this. What I regret is the way I’ve handled things until now. If I could go back, I would do so many things differently. I had you so wrong from the very beginning. I wanted to make you out to be something you weren’t, but you’re perfect how you are. Perfect for me. And I just . . . I couldn’t see . . .” I stop, getting choked up.
He looks alarmed. “Let’s just go home and talk. You don’t need to do this here.”
“No, I do need to do this here.” I clutch his jacket with renewed urgency. “Or else you won’t believe me.”
Awareness dawns on his face. “Of course I’ll believe you. You don’t have to make a spectacle of it. I was just kidding about that.”
“Damn it, Ben, I came here tonight to make a fool of myself over you, and I’m not leaving until I do!”
A slow smile stretches across his face. “A fool of yourself, huh?”
“Yes. Now, please just let me do this for you.”
Amusement lights his eyes. “All right. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
“First, this.”
I throw my arms around his neck and kiss him, pouring every ounce of love and apology and emotion into it possible. This time he embraces it—embraces me—lifting me off my feet like he did in his apartment that fateful night. It’s only been a week, but dear God how I’ve missed this. I lose myself in him, lamenting that I can’t ravage his shorter hair as easily. I want to mess him up, unbutton his shirt, rip off his bow tie. I’d wrap my legs around his waist if my tight dress would allow it.
He eventually pulls back an inch, his eyes shining. “I think you’ve made your point. Can we go home now?”
“No! I’m not done yet. That was only part one.”
He carefully lowers me down and sets me on my feet. “How many parts are there?”
“Just two.”
He’s full-on grinning now. “All right, what’s part two?”
I take a deep breath and look up into his eyes. The eyes that hold everything: joy and mischief and strength. Eyes that own my heart and our future. Eyes bright with love.
Here goes nothing.
“I’m in love with you.”
Chapter 30
You’re in love with me.”
“Crazy in love.”
“Crazy in love.”
“Like so in love I can’t think straight. Or sleep. Or eat.”
He purses his lips. “That sounds serious.”
“It is.”
“Huh. Interesting.” I can’t read his expression at all. It’s the perfect poker face.
I stare at him. “Aren’t you going to say anything?” Back??
“Oh, were you looking for a response?”
“Benjy . . .”
“Oh, all right.” He clasps my hands in his, looking at me seriously. “It’s about fucking time.”
Not what I was expecting.
“What?” I sputter.
“Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to figure this out? Good Lord, Kate, I thought we’d be old and gray by the time you caught up with me.” He prods me off the dance floor as I stumble over my feet.
“I’m sorry, caught up?”
“I’ve only been in love with you since the day we met. As if that wasn’t obvious by the way I’ve been trailing after you like a lost puppy dog.” He nods at someone who’s trying to get his attention but keeps ushering me forward.
“Since the day we met? That was never obvious.”
“Pretty sure it was.” He looks around. “Where’s your purse?”
“My purse?” I can’t seem to do much besides echo him.
“It’s right here!”
Stephen materializes out of nowhere and shoves it at me, then laces his fingers under his chin. He’s the personification of the heart-eyes emoji. “Just tell me, so I can be the first to know. You worked it out? You’re together now?”
“We’re together. And I’m taking her home, is that all right?”
Stephen looks at me, eyes saucer-wide. “Of course! I’m so thrilled for you both. That sounds like I’m congratulating you on your engagement or something, but you know what I mean.” He glances from me to Ben. “Wait, you’re not engaged, are you?”
“Good night, Stephen,” we say in unison.
* * *
After an Uber ride that lasts a short eternity, we’re back at Ben’s apartment and I’m in his arms before he can kick the door shut.
Ben’s kissing me like a man possessed. He’s got one arm around my waist while his other hand roams all over my body. His hips tilt into mine as he presses me against the door, legs planted on either side of me, staking their claim. He’s all around me and everywhere at once.
I’ve never been so turned on.
“Bedroom, please take me to your bedroom,” I beg him.
He smiles against my mouth, then drops down and scoops me into his arms. As he walks us through his darkened apartment, I bury my face in his neck and breathe him in like an asthmatic.
“You know, I’m pretty sure I fell in love with you the night you carried me home.”
“Was that before you told me carrying you was antifeminist or . . . ?” He turns us sideways to enter his room and my heel knocks against the doorframe.
&nb
sp; “I changed my mind. Carry me everywhere from now on.”
He’s chuckling as he sets me down on the edge of his bed. When he flicks on the nightstand lamp, my heart skips a beat.
He’s standing over me, eyes dark and hungry, though still soft somehow, and a little awed, like he can’t believe I’m here. He’s never looked more beautiful. A wave of desire engulfs me and I leap to my feet, scrambling to push his jacket off his shoulders. I’m desperate to touch him, freed from the handcuffs of our rules. I reach toward his neck and my fingers shake with anticipation.
“I finally get to take off your tie. I’ve been dreaming of this.”
“Your fantasies are pretty PG,” he teases, his hands flexing on my hips.
“Not all of them,” I warn as I pull one of the ends free.
I let out a tiny delighted gasp as it unravels, the silk tails hanging loose and open around his neck. I grab them and savagely yank him to me for another kiss. The tie drops forgotten to the floor as my fingers work feverishly to unbutton his shirt. When the last one pops free, I try to tug it off but it snags on his wrists. I growl in frustration.
“Hang on, sweetheart. Cuff links.” He looks amused as he fumbles with a sleeve.
“Did you just call me sweetheart?”
“Maybe.” He eyes me as he works the first one loose and drops it into my hand. “Is that antifeminist too?”
“No, I loved it. Say it again.”
He smirks. “I think you’re more of a romantic than I am.”
“Hmm, that didn’t sound like sweetheart.”
A smile teases his lips as he takes the link from me and sets them on his dresser; then I yelp when he grabs me by the waist and hauls me against him. His shirt’s still on, flapping open, and I slide my fingers under the crisp cotton, laying my palms on his bare chest. His heart beats a wild rhythm under my hand.
Meet You in the Middle Page 29