by Tyler, Q. B.
“Say what?”
“Well…you kind of took his job.”
“You’re shitting me. He…he was my mentor.”
“Yeah, well…” I shrug.
“What happened to me? Liv, what kind of asshole have I become?”
I laugh out loud at his apprehensive tone. “What do you mean become? You were an asshole two years ago, so I don’t know why you’re confused.” He’s silent and I chance a glance at him and he’s staring out the window. “I’m kidding…Jeff got promoted.” I give him a half smile when he turns back towards me and I can see the relief in his eyes. “He works out of the LA office now,” I tell him and he nods before letting out a breath.
“You could have led with that.”
“Sorry, but it was too easy.” I giggle.
“Thank you for using this situation against me,” he grumbles. “Who’s the asshole now?”
I bite my lip at his comment. It was going to be a long three weeks if this is how things were going to be. We move through the streets towards my apartment in SoHo and within forty minutes I’m pulling into the garage at the base of the building. I unbuckle my seatbelt and stare straight ahead as I prepare myself for what I’ve been practicing in my head for the last twenty minutes. “I’m sorry,” I breathe out, “for being insensitive.” I look over at him and he gives me a smile.
“I know that I can be a bit of an asshole. I just…I’ve never been that way with you. You’ve always seemed to be the one exception to that.” He unbuckles his seatbelt and makes a move to get out before he stops and looks at me. “You…and Wren…and my mother, you can all tell me what I did, but I still can’t wrap my brain around the fact that it happened. That I hurt you…in that way. That being said, I know you have a very different opinion of me than I remember having of you, so it’s just going to take some getting used to…that you don’t love me anymore.” He gives me a sad smile and then he’s gone.
I open my mouth to refute his statement when I remember that it’s easier for all parties if he just thinks I don’t love him.
So, what if I do love him?
Does that change anything?
I hop out and make my way around the car where I see him pulling the bags from the car. I pull them from him. “I got it.”
“You sure?” He looks down at me and I’m instantly reminded of the Bennett that rarely let me lift a finger.
“You just worry about keeping yourself upright,” I tell him.
Caroline had packed a bag of clothes and brought it over last night as well, which thankfully didn’t turn into a whole big thing when she dropped them off. Thank God for “a six o’clock yogalates class I can NOT be late for.”
We move through the lobby and I see our front desk concierge’s face light up when he sees Bennett. “Mr. Clarke!”
I try to hide the irritation from my face as he makes his way over, even though he’s one of the kindest men I know. Mr. Kline is old enough to be my grandfather but acts like he’s my age or younger and used to tease Bennett endlessly that one day he was going to whisk me away. When Bennett’s father passed, he attended the funeral and sent one of the most breathtaking arrangements I’d ever seen. He also took him and got him ridiculously drunk because “it didn’t seem anyone else in his family was too concerned.” He’d sent me flowers the day Bennett officially moved out and took me to get drunk the following day.
Needless to say, Bennett and I are fans of Mr. Kline.
“It’s so nice to see you two together again.” Despite his words, I see the look he gives Bennett before turning his warm gaze to me. “Hi dear, you had a…umm…visitor, while you were gone.” He’s less than impressed with David Jacobs and has felt the need to let me know, constantly. He gives me a pointed look before shifting his gaze to Bennett.
I clear my throat and catch a glimpse at Bennett who looks as if he’s ready to snap over my visitor. “I see…well, thank you for letting me know,” I say nervously. I don’t know why I’m nervous. I haven’t done anything wrong. Well, nothing more wrong than Bennett!
He nods before turning back to Bennett. “Don’t fuck it up this time, Clarke,” he says looking at him over his round frames.
I roll my eyes. “Oh, for Heaven’s sake,” I growl as I stomp past them to the elevator. “Come on, Bennett!” I say over my shoulder without another glance at them. I hear the sounds of him behind me and when he enters the elevator, I let out a breath.
“He knows?”
“Yes, you had quite a habit of showing up here drunk after you moved out. If it weren’t for Mr. Kline, you’d probably be in jail for public intoxication.”
He nods and leans his head back against the elevator. “He hasn’t aged a day,” he says, ignoring my comment.
“He was worried about you.” I don’t know why I tell him that. Maybe because I wanted him to know someone cared. That a lot of people cared. That I’d been getting phone calls and emails from countless people from his job wondering how he is. What they could do. If we needed anything.
“You told him?”
“He was working when I got Wren’s call. I wasn’t…in the best shape when I left.” I recall, how he’d offered to drive me before eventually convincing me that I was in no condition to drive and I needed to take an Uber.
The elevator dings, ending our conversation, and as we make our way into the hall, he breathes out what sounds like a sigh of relief. “Fuck it feels good to be here. It’s like my body can sense that I’m home.” We make our way down the hall and eventually make it to our door. I put my key in the lock as I steel myself to let Bennett back in. Opening this door feels so much bigger than just this physical act and a thought briefly crosses my mind that maybe I’m opening the door to something else entirely.
I cleaned the apartment from top to bottom last night, not that it was particularly messy, but I couldn’t sleep and the idea of Bennett being back in my space had me feeling anxious. I toss the keys on the small table next to the door and let Bennett enter behind me. He stands in the doorway and takes in the living room, no doubt remembering it completely differently.
“You redecorated.”
“Well, you took the majority of the furniture when you moved out.”
A look of shock and almost horror crosses his face. “I did what?”
“No…” I shake my head as I hear how it sounds. “I wanted you to. I wanted new stuff. And you weren’t leaving anywhere without your television.” I smile as I look at the smaller television mounted on the wall.
“It’s…nice.” He smiles at me. “It’s you.” The entire room is made up of light grays and lavenders with flowers on every surface of the room. He moves through the room like he owns it and sits on the couch before looking up at me. “Thank you. For doing this. I’ll do my best to stay out of your way.” He pulls his jacket off, simultaneously flexing his arm, and I swallow the lump in my throat. He leans back, stretching his long legs underneath the coffee table, reminding me what it felt like to have him here.
“I love it,” I squeal as I look out the window at the gorgeous view from the seventh floor window. I turn back to see Bennett moving towards me with a smirk known to make my panties wet and the realtor moving towards the kitchen. “It’s a little over our budget though…” Before I can continue, Clarke has me up against the window with my face in his large warm hands staring down at me like he’s ready to devour me at any second.
“I can’t wait to fuck you against these floor to ceiling windows. Let everyone down below see you fall apart with my cock inside your sweet little pussy.” His voice is gravelly and low and it takes everything out of me not to suggest we go christen the place in the nearest bathroom. I peek around his large frame to look for our realtor, one almost as good as Bennett, when his hands turn me back towards him. “I told him to give us a minute. I also don’t like the way he keeps looking at your tits, but I’ll consider letting it slide for the sake of this deal I’m about to pose.” He lowers his face and presses his l
ips to the skin behind my ear. “Your eyes didn’t light up at any of the other apartments we looked at, but this one…” he nibbles gently on my ear before he pulls back, “you love it, it’s yours.”
My breath hitches and I feel myself getting emotional at his words, but I shouldn’t be surprised. This is how Bennett is; he acts as if it’s his job to make me happy. “I love you.” I look up at him, and I hope my eyes are conveying just how much.
His emerald colored eyes trace my face before he presses his lips to mine. “I love hearing you say that.” His hard body presses against mine as the kiss becomes more intense. I run my hand down his body and slide it between us to palm his dick through his slacks and he growls in my mouth. My hair is pulled to the side in one braid and he yanks on it playfully before letting up. “You’ll pay for that later, Mrs. Clarke.”
“Promise?” My eyes twinkle with excitement and I swear my panties that were already wet, become soaked the second he runs his tongue over his bottom lip.
“You alright?” Bennett’s voice breaks me from my memories and I see him leaning forward, his arms resting on his knees as he stares up at me. “You went away for a second.”
“Yeah…I…” I let out a breath. “I made up the master bedroom for you.” I swallow as I begin to back away from Bennett and the sudden influx of happy memories I was reliving.
“Wait, what?” I hear him briefly struggle to get up, but when I turn around he’s already moving towards me. “I’m not sleeping there. I’ve already disrupted your life. I’m not going to kick you out of your room.” He follows me through the kitchen and down the long hall. He stops and admires some of the pictures on the wall, none of which have him in them. “You look really pretty here.” He points at a picture and I turn around to see which one he means. I smile at the picture of Alyssa and me when we’d gone to Miami as a part of my “I’m Getting Divorced” tour. “Not a lot of pictures of me here…did you break them all?” he teases and I frown at his joke.
“No. You took most of them when you moved, and the rest are in a box. Breaking pictures of us wouldn’t make me feel better over what happened, Bennett,” I snap and continue moving down the hall.
“I didn’t… I didn’t mean anything by that.” He sighs and follows me into the master bedroom. When we get to the entrance, I feel his gaze on my face. “Please don’t hate me.”
“If I did, you wouldn’t be here,” I say simply, and if that wasn’t the fucking truth.
He doesn’t respond to my comment but completely changes the subject instead. “I don’t want to stay in here.”
I wave him off as I move through the room in attempts to put some space between us. “It’s fine, Bennett. I moved out of this room when you moved out.”
“What?”
“I sleep in the guest room.”
“Why?” His eyes scan the room, and I can see the curiosity all over his face as to why I wouldn’t be sleeping in the room I’d slept in for years.
I shrug. “It’s just too big in here and…sleeping in here alone was just too difficult.” I blink the tears out of my eyes as I remember the first night I attempted it. I’d woken up in a panic, my body already anxious and on high alert at the idea of being in the apartment by myself. Bennett had slept in the guest room for the two weeks prior while he looked for a place, but then he was gone and I felt hollow and my chest ached with every breath I took. “If you prefer, I bought a sleeper sofa for what used to be your office, and you can sleep there,” I add weakly. “But this bed is still more comfortable.”
“I don’t know how comfortable it will be without you in it.” My head whips to his, and I meet his green eyes that are staring at me hard. I shift nervously under his gaze and he frowns. “I hate that I make you nervous now.”
“I’m not,” I argue, even though I could sense the mounting tension between us.
He nods, although I know he doesn’t believe me. “I can stay in here. This is great, thank you.” He makes his way through what used to be our old bedroom and looks around before sitting on the bed. “Looks pretty much the same.”
“I still use the ensuite bathroom because…” I look towards it and give him a knowing smile. “Obviously, that bathroom is phenomenal.”
“It’s a great bathroom, I’ll agree. I’m glad we updated it.” He agrees before kicking his shoes off.
“You must be exhausted. I’ll let you get situated.” I point at the suitcase next to the bed. “Your mom brought you some clothes and some of your things. If you’re missing something, I can go out and get it or I can drive us to your apartment.”
“Livi, stop fussing over me. It’s fine, I’ll make do with whatever’s in there.”
“Right.” I let out a breath. “Well, you know how the television works and…”
“Liv,” he growls and I put my hands up before taking a step back.
“Right, sorry!” I close the door behind me and let out the breath I feel like I’ve been holding since we stepped foot into the apartment.
I make my way back towards the kitchen and pull off my coat before grabbing my phone from inside my purse. I scroll through the missed calls and texts and decide it might be time to return a few of them.
Which phone call is less likely to drive me to drink?
After a short yet very tedious conversation with my mother, where I informed her everything was fine, and by fine I meant Bennett was alive, I finally had to fake a headache to get off the phone. It’s times like this that I’m grateful my parents live a safe two and a half hours away in Philadelphia. Naturally, they were concerned about Bennett, even if they weren’t his biggest fans anymore. But once I told them he was alive, they seemed to calm down and wanted to know more about how I was handling everything. Of course, I left out the fact that he’s staying with me, knowing that it’s the quickest way to get my overprotective parents to the city for a visit. I let out a breath and open the door to the guest room to peek my head out into the hallway.
This is ridiculous. This is my house.
I shouldn’t feel nervous about leaving my fucking room. I make my way towards the kitchen as I wonder what I should make for dinner. I haven’t had much of an appetite the last six months, but I’ve forced myself to eat, mainly to keep my mother and Alyssa off my back. But I couldn’t remember the last time I ate for enjoyment. Bennett and I were big “foodies” and were always trying new restaurants, new cuisines, and took cooking classes together all the time. When we split up, I lost interest in trying new things and found myself barely eating at all. It wasn’t until my parents came to visit a month into our separation that my mother became persistent about my eating habits. Cooking for one is depressing, so I’ve taken to UberEats and delivery pizza. Thank God, I picked up working out amidst everything.
I stand in the kitchen momentarily before I decide what I want. I grab the bottle of Malbec I opened last night and pour myself a healthy glass of wine, letting my eyes close as the familiar flavor hit my taste buds. I set the wine on the granite countertop before I lean my head on my forearms and focus on my breathing. Maybe now is the time to try some of those meditation exercises Dr. Vorges recommended.
“You alright?” His voice rings through the air and my head snaps up to meet Bennett’s gaze. Concerned eyes rove over me and I feel exposed and vulnerable under his stare. He’s still in the same white t-shirt but without the jacket, putting his tattoo sleeved left arm on display. The intricate design stops just before his wrist so they wouldn’t show when he was dressed for work. I stare at his tattoos just as I always did when he bared them. They’re sexy and such a contrast to the straight laced businessman he is during the day. “Can I have some of that?” He reaches for the bottle next to me when I pull it out of reach.
“Not with your medicine.”
“Come on, Livi,” he pleads.
“No,” I tell him as I shake my head. “Don’t you want to get better?”
“Not really, no.” I narrow my eyes at him wanting clarification w
hen he sighs. “I assume once I’m better, I’m out of here. And depending on when that is, it’ll be going against my plan.”
I take another large sip of my wine. “What plan is that?”
“Winning you back.”
He takes another step towards me.
I take one back. And then another.
I feel the stainless steel refrigerator behind me and try to step to the side away from him when he puts an arm out, effectively blocking me from getting away. “Olivia.”
“What?” I ask weakly. He leans down and I immediately hold my breath to not inhale his sexy masculine scent, but I manage to catch a whiff of mint and a hint of his cologne. I shut my eyes, kicking myself for letting my guard down like this. “Please don’t do this,” I whisper.
His nose grazes mine before he trails it down my face. “You smell just how I remember you,” he whispers. “So fucking sweet and sexy.”
I let out a breath and press my teeth into my bottom lip, hard. Snap out of this shit, Olivia. His hand traces the side of my face, tucking a lock behind my ear and I briefly wonder if he’s going to kiss me. My mind races as it battles with my heart over what I want in this moment. “Why the change?” he asks.
My eyes flutter open and I stare up at him, my heart still pounding harder in my chest with each passing moment. “Wh-what?”
“Your hair.” He takes a step back but is still very much in my personal space. “It’s more curly.” He lets his hand fall from my hair after gently fingering the curls.
“Oh…” I look away from his eyes. “When we split up, I wanted something different.” I reach up and pull on the ends of my hair.
He closes his eyes and lets his head drop slightly. “Well, regardless of the reason, I like it. A lot.”
“You liked my straight hair, if I remember.” I cock an eyebrow at him and he chuckles.
“Okay you got me, I like everything on you.”
I swallow, not knowing what to say before my eyes move to his arm, zoning in on one particular tattoo just as it always does. Amongst the woven lines and colors painted on his arm are the numbers 10. 13. 12.