by Grace Palmer
Except her, of course. He teased her endlessly, and Liza teased him right back. He brought out a spunky side of her she’d never seen before, and she liked it. Liza liked that life felt more special with Ben in it. He had a way of seeing the world that inspired her to be more forgiving and more patient. He made her want to be a better person.
The music faded back to silence, and Ben’s chest rose and fell against hers, his face flushed from dancing.
She looked into his eyes, getting lost in the green of them, and they stood there, frozen for one second and then two. Liza thought he would kiss her, but the moment came and passed, and they pulled away. They both laughed, but there was a tinge of disappointment in the air, too.
Liza went around the restaurant, locking doors and turning off light switches, and when she came back to the dining room, Ben was waiting by the door with her coat. He held it out for her, and she slipped her arms in the sleeves, aware of the way his fingertips brushed across her shoulders.
As soon as she stepped outside, Liza stopped. Ben bumped into the back of her and then gasped, seeing it, too.
“It’s snowing,” he said. “A lot.”
“I had no idea,” she whispered.
It felt necessary to whisper. It was late, the road in front of the bar and grill was quiet, and everything was covered in at least six inches of snow.
The flakes were full and heavy, and Liza could hear them hitting the ground, visibly accumulating even in the few seconds they were standing in the doorway.
“It’s magical,” Liza said, stepping out carefully in her sneakers. She didn’t have the right shoes on at all, but the snow was perfect and untouched, and she couldn’t resist being the first person to make tracks. “I love the snow.”
“Well, that settles it.”
“What?” Liza turned to Ben, but he was walking after her, his brows lowered and set, his lower lip tucked between his teeth.
Instead of answering, he grabbed her shoulders, pulled her against him, and lowered his lips to hers.
Liza was too stunned to move for a moment, but she quickly got over it. She wrapped her arms around his neck and sagged against him.
Ben tasted as good as he smelled—like mint and citrus—and his lips were soft, but firm. He kissed with confidence, no sense of hesitation or doubt, and Liza felt like they’d done this a thousand times before. It felt easy and natural, and she missed him the moment he pulled away, smiling down at her.
“Whoa.”
Ben laughed and kissed her forehead. “I’m glad you agree. It was whoa for me, too.”
Liza felt flustered and flushed. “What was that for?”
“Because I wanted to,” he said. “Because I should have done it inside. Because the world feels like a snow globe, and I wanted you to always remember the first time we kissed.”
“Snow globe or not, I don’t think I could ever forget that.”
He laughed again and then grew serious. For the first time, Ben looked nervous. His eyes darted around, and his fingers drummed on her upper arms.
“What is it?” Liza asked.
“Well, there was something else I was going to do, but I seem to have turned into a horrible coward all of the sudden.”
“What were you going to do?” The kiss had been more than enough for Liza, so she couldn’t imagine anything more than that. Her knees were still trembling from the force of it. Still, she had to know. “Tell me.”
Ben’s green eyes landed on her and everything seemed to stop. Snowflakes froze in the air, time stilled, and the planet stopped turning on its axis. Liza had never felt more looked at in her entire life. Ben saw her. When he looked at her, he seemed to pierce to her very soul, expose her.
She took a deep breath, trying to prepare for whatever was coming next. It wasn’t enough.
“Liza, I’m falling for you. You don’t have to say anything, but I just want you to know.”
He said it somberly, like he wasn’t sure if he should or not, and Liza wanted to laugh.
How could he not know? How could he be self-conscious about this of all things?
Liza wasn’t falling for him.
She’d already fallen.
12
Ben sat down while Alma sang along with the song quietly as she worked behind the bar, oblivious to the torment Liza was going through.
For years, she’d turned off movies that used this song in their soundtracks, changed the radio station every time it came on, and done her best to avoid going back to that night with Ben.
It was the night she realized she loved him. It was the night she began making plans, envisioning a future with him, reshaping her hopes and dreams to include him.
It was also—though she didn’t know it then—the night Liza took one irreversible step down the path to heartbreak.
This song didn’t just represent her good times with Ben; it represented the bad ones, too. It represented the nights she’d spent crying in her room, muffling herself with a pillow so Dora wouldn’t hear.
Liza had spent the last thirty years writing Ben out of her life and her memory, and now here he was, crashing back into her consciousness with no warning, and Liza didn’t know how to handle it.
“You said you didn’t want to talk,” he said softly. “So, I’m not talking.”
“You decided to torment me via song. Yay me.” Liza tried to sound casual, but the words came out strained.
“I’m not trying to torment you, Liza. I’m trying to tell you…”
I love you, whispered a voice in her head.
In real life, Ben said, “I’m sorry.” He paused and looked at her curiously. “I’m trying to tell you that I regret what happened with us.”
Of course, he didn’t love her anymore. He didn’t know her anymore. Not this version of her, anyway. Why had Liza thought, for even a minute, that was what he was going to say? Absurd. Ridiculous. Impossible.
Still, why did she feel disappointed?
Because you want to crush him the way he crushed you, she thought, surprised by her subconscious desire for vengeance.
That was part of it, sure. It would feel nice if Ben loved her. If Liza could look at him after all these years and tell him to kick rocks. To tell him that he’d missed his chance long, long ago.
Another part of it was loneliness and a desire to have a plan. If any man had shown Liza interest at the bar, she felt confident she’d react the same way. As much as she tried to pretend, for Angela and Dora and everyone else, that she wasn’t upset about her divorce from Cliff, Liza was lonely. She wanted someone to lean on and depend on. Someone to wake up next to and talk to about her day.
She wasn’t disappointed because it was Ben and she loved him, but because he was a person, and she’d been short a person in her life for the last three years.
“It’s been thirty years.”
“So?” Ben shrugged. “That doesn’t mean I can’t still apologize. It doesn’t mean I shouldn’t apologize. I never told you how sorry I was for how things ended, so I’m telling you now. What we had was special to me, and I shouldn’t have thrown it away the way I did.”
Liza’s throat tightened, and she felt ridiculous. She turned away from him, feigning interest in a couple of men in greasy work shirts coming through the double doors of the saloon. “It’s fine.”
Ben chuckled softly, and Liza turned around. What could possibly be funny about this situation?
He shook his head like he could read her thoughts. “It’s just funny that, after all these years, I can still tell when you’re lying.”
The song ended, and Liza felt a weight lift off her shoulders. She shifted in her seat and almost clapped when their dinner plates came through the swinging doors of the kitchen, grateful for any distraction.
“I’m not exactly hard to read.”
The waiter slid their plates toward them, warning they were hot, and Liza smiled at him. The sooner she ate this food, the sooner she’d get to leave.
As she dug
in, Ben mumbled under his breath, “You’d be surprised.”
She didn’t know what that meant, but she didn’t care to ask. They ate mostly in silence, and Liza could only make it halfway through her biscuits and gravy before she had to ask Alma for a doggie bag.
“These are incredible, but if I eat another bite, I’ll have to roll myself home.”
“You flatter me, Ms. Professional Chef.” Alma grabbed her plate and disappeared into the kitchen.
Ben slid his empty plate to the edge of the bar and leaned back. “I can’t wait to eat your cooking again at the wedding. You’ve always been a fabulous cook. You make the best pancakes I’ve ever had.”
“I don’t think Stacy would approve pancakes on her wedding menu.”
“She would if she tasted them.” Ben patted his stomach. “I tried for a while to find a recipe that tasted anything like yours, but I never had any luck. I don’t know what your secret ingredient is, but it’s a doozy.”
Usually Liza would quip, It’s love, but that hardly felt appropriate. Instead, she thanked him and waited patiently for Alma to bring them the check.
“Was this as horrible as you thought it would be?” Ben asked after a brief pause.
“I didn’t think it would be horrible.”
“Liar,” he laughed. “I saw your face when you spotted me. I thought you were going to make a break for it.”
Liza had considered it, but he didn’t need to know that.
“I didn’t relish the thought of sitting down with you,” she admitted, “but it was fine. I don’t think you’re a bad person, Ben. When I said I didn’t want to talk to you the other night, it wasn’t because you’re horrible or bad company. It’s exactly the opposite.”
“It’s because I’m wonderful and good company?” he asked, chin dimpled in confusion.
Liza shouldn’t have said anything, but it was too late to take it back now. She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. Being so close to the ocean had made her curly hair even more unruly than usual. Though, she didn’t hate the idea of having beachy waves. It was better than the staticky mess her hair became this time of year in Boston.
“It’s the same reason I avoid cheesecake and kettle-cooked chips and big bags of chocolate,” Liza said. “It’s delicious, but it’s not good for me. And in the end, I always end up feeling miserable.”
Ben’s usually unreadable expression faltered and Liza caught a look of sad regret moving across his brow. In an instant, it was gone.
“Then we’ll have to learn moderation.” Ben pulled out his phone and slid it towards her. “Type in your number.”
Liza looked at the phone like it was actively on fire. “No.”
“For wedding purposes,” he explained. When it was clear Liza wasn’t convinced, he continued. “Okay, or you can text and find out where in town I’m eating so you can avoid me like the plague on humanity I am. How does that sound?”
“Wonderful, if a little dramatic.”
Despite the insult, Ben laughed. “But seriously, it might be nice to have your number for the wedding. Stacy is playing it cool now, but she’s going to be a disaster on the day. If you have any issues or questions, I’d rather you call me than her. As the bro of honor, it’s my solemn duty.”
He was making fun, but he wasn’t wrong. Liza had been in contact with members of the wedding party regularly in the past, and talking to a bro of honor was preferable to bringing any issue to the bride on her big day.
Liza pursed her lips for a moment and grabbed his phone before she could change her mind. She told herself she’d delete his number as soon as the wedding was over.
Ben smirked, and when he reached for his phone, Liza pulled it back. “This isn’t a victory for you. This is about my job, okay?”
“I know,” he said, holding up his hands in an unconvincing surrender. “You’re very professional, Liza.”
Ben had mentioned moderation, and she had clearly overdone it with him tonight. She was ready to leave.
She rolled her eyes and slid his phone to him. “That’s Ms. Professional Chef to you.”
Without another word, she spun off her stool and left him to pay the bill.
13
As it turned out, Liza didn’t need to agonize over giving her phone number to Ben, after all. The next day, while trying to set up a time for a tasting of the wedding menu, Stacy asked Liza to set everything up with her brother instead.
“I’ll be there, for sure,” Stacy said. “Jonathan is still out of town, but I’ll be there. It’s just that my schedule is jam-packed all of today, but I’m free as a bird tomorrow. So, text Ben, find out what time works for him, and then I’ll be there. Okay? Thanks so much.”
Liza didn’t have time to argue or come up with an excuse before Stacy hung up, so she was left with a decision: should she call him or send a text?
Calling would be more uncomfortable. Liza didn’t know anyone who enjoyed making phone calls. According to Angela, Liza was behind the times in terms of technology, but even at her age, receiving a phone call without warning was stressful.
Texting, however, had its own challenges. Namely, it opened a door Liza thought should remain closed.
If she texted Ben about a wedding thing, he could text her back, and then she’d have to respond. Before she knew it, the whole thing could spiral into casual texting about non-wedding issues, and where would that lead?
In the end, Liza realized it would be easier to reject words typed on a screen than the sound of Ben’s voice, so she texted.
Stacy told me to arrange a time for the tasting menu with you. It will be at my house tomorrow. What time works for you?
The three dots showing he was typing appeared immediately, and Liza hated how her heart jumped.
If you want to ask me on a date, you don’t have to use my sister as a cover.
She typed a quick response: Not a date! It’s work. Your sister will be there, too.
He sent a frowning emoji and then, a few minutes later:
Is seven okay?
Liza sighed. Perfect.
As soon as the time was arranged, Liza turned her phone on silent and dropped it on the couch. She didn’t unmute it until the next morning, and even then, she left it on her bedside table all day. Something about it felt dangerous now. Ben’s number in her contacts was like a flashing red self-destruct button, waiting to be pressed.
If Liza had anything to say about it, that button would be waiting for a long time.
Liza didn’t like to be overbearing during taste-testing sessions. She preferred to spend her time in the kitchen, readying the next course and letting the clients discuss the food privately, but the cottage didn’t exactly allow for privacy. Plus, Stacy wanted Liza there every step of the way.
“You can’t spend all day cooking this incredible food and not eat it while it’s fresh,” she said, patting the seat next to her. “Please. Eat with us.”
“Yes, Liza, eat with us,” Ben echoed. He smiled, and Liza imagined his teeth gleaming like a predator before a meal.
“These hors d’oeuvres are incredible. What am I eating?”
“Mini beef Wellingtons, bacon-wrapped scallops, and giant mushrooms stuffed with artichoke,” Liza said, pointing out each dish. “These will be something substantive for your guests to snack on before the main meal starts. I don’t want to leave anyone hungry. You didn’t mention any specific diet constraints, but I wanted there to be something for everyone: seafood, red meat, and vegetarian.”
“What about those guests who might want pancakes?” Ben asked. His expression was stone serious, but his green eyes glimmered.
Liza barely resisted a glare.
“Ben,” Stacy said, elbowing her brother in the arm and rolling her eyes. “I’m not serving pancakes at my wedding.”
“That’s because you’ve never had Liza’s pancakes.”
Liza felt her face flush, and she noticed Stacy’s quick look from her brother to Liza. She knew. Ben must have tol
d her about their history. It was possible Stacy had known from the beginning, but Liza couldn’t imagine Stacy would knowingly hire her brother’s ex-girlfriend to be her caterer.
When Liza and Ben were together, Stacy was living back at home with her parents. Liza never met her nor anyone else in Ben’s family. Now, she’d see that as a red flag, but back then, she hadn’t thought a thing of it.
“Next course,” Liza said, dabbing her mouth with a napkin and heading into the kitchen. “For an appetizer, I thought we could do an Italian wedding soup. It’s not too fancy and is easy to serve en masse, but it’s also delicious.”
“Soup is perfect for a November wedding,” Stacy said. “Jonathan’s family is Italian, so he’ll love that.”
“And wedding soup is perfect for a wedding,” Ben quipped.
Liza poured out three small bowls and carried them on a plastic tray to the table. “They call it that because of the marriage of all of the ingredients, I think.”
“I actually had some when I was in Italy, and I think it was called minestra maritata. I could be wrong. It has been so long.”
Liza’s chest tightened at the mention of Ben’s travels.
He’d talked about it when they were dating, his desire to get out and see the world, but Liza had naively assumed they’d see it together. She assumed he’d take her along.
How many places had he gone? How many different countries and customs and ways of life had he experienced?
Liza didn’t want to know. The thought stole her appetite.
“Where did you learn about the dish, Liza?” Ben asked.
The true answer was on her honeymoon, actually.
Liza and Cliff didn’t have much money, but they drove to Chicago and stayed in Cliff’s cousin’s tiny apartment in Oak Park. They rode the train into the city every morning and wandered around the city. They were there before The Bean was installed or Millennium Park even existed, but they walked along the river, visited every museum they passed, and ate more deep dish pizza than any one human should consume. After three days of nothing but cheese, Liza convinced Cliff to skip the pizzeria and go to a fancy Italian restaurant. The kind of restaurant he wished he could have proposed in.