by Grace Palmer
They did, and Liza ate some Italian wedding soup and the best ravioli she’d ever had in her life. Cliff ordered another deep dish pizza.
“I had it when I was in Chicago years ago,” Liza said out loud, breezing past the question and charging ahead. “I figured we would do this soup with a crunchy bread on the side, and then the main course could be a cheese tortellini with a basil pesto. After the meat in the hors d’oeuvres and the meatballs in the soup, I figured everyone would be ready for some carbs.”
“I’m always ready for carbs,” Stacy laughed. “And no one does carbs like the Italians.”
Liza went back into the kitchen to bring out the tortellini, which had been keeping warm on a low setting in the oven.
“I don’t know, sis. I had pão de queijo in Brazil that you’d really like. It’s a small cheese bread that they eat for breakfast. It’s amazing. And, oh,” Ben paused to sigh longingly. “Sweet bread in Mexico. And naan! There are so many flavor combinations of naan to be had. I made it my mission to try them all while I was in India, but I don’t think it’s possible. Gosh, I really do love carbs.”
“Okay, show off. Not all of us have traveled around the world. I swear, you could have a show on Food Network.” Stacy clapped her hands like she’d just had an amazing idea. “You both should have a show! Ben could annoy everyone with his knowledge of food from around the world, and Liza could cook it—inarguably the most important and impressive of the two. Plus, you two have television-worthy levels of snark. People would tune in.”
“I’m not built for television,” Liza said quietly, setting plates of tortellini in front of everyone.
Ben tipped his head to the side, assessing her. “It’s not like you have a face for radio. I think you’d be great with your own cooking show. For better or worse, people always pay more attention to beautiful people.”
Liza froze, eyes locked on her plate, vision fuzzy.
He said it so casually, so easily. Like it meant nothing. Like him calling her beautiful after all these years was normal.
Was it normal?
Liza didn’t think so, but perhaps Ben acted this way with all women. Liza knew men like that, who gave compliments easily, who had no problem flirting with any woman who came along.
Likely, for Ben, it didn’t mean anything. So, Liza determined in that moment that it wouldn’t mean anything to her, either.
Stacy swirled a tortellini around in the pesto with increased concentration. When she popped it in her mouth, she moaned and gave Liza a thumbs-up. “This is incredible.”
“But is it what you want for your wedding?” Liza asked. “I want to make sure it’s what you envisioned serving your guests on your big day. If you’d rather have something more luxurious or even more casual, please tell me. I’m flexible, and I can do whatever you want.”
“No, this is great. I left that decision up to you because I trusted your expertise, and I still do. Everything is perfect, don’t you think, Ben?”
Ben chewed slowly on his food and looked up at Liza. His stubble had grown in a bit since Liza had first seen him and patches of gray and white hairs were more obvious around his chin. It wasn’t fair that he looked better now than he had when they were young. Somehow, Ben had only grown more attractive with time, his face seeming more balanced and refined. He seemed more solid.
Liza didn’t want to know what he thought of her after all this time. He’d called her beautiful, but she’d already decided that meant nothing, so who knew what he was thinking?
Not Liza.
He smiled, his dimples making a pronounced appearance, and nodded. “I agree. Perfect.”
Liza stood in the doorway, too nervous to step into the kitchen and too proud to back away. She wasn’t afraid of Benjamin Boyd.
Yet…
“I said I’d help you clean up,” Ben said over his shoulder, his arms deep in a sink of dirty dishes. “It would have been rude to leave you to do this on your own, but you also can’t leave me to do it on my own. It isn’t even my wedding.”
“Exactly,” Liza said, finally moving into the kitchen. “So you can leave. No need to be here.”
“Stacy would have stayed to help, but she has to make the drive back to Boston tonight. She’d never forgive her brother for leaving the caterer in a bind.”
“Dishes aren’t a bind in my profession,” Liza said. “They’re a necessary evil.”
Ben wiped an arm across his forehead, leaving a small cluster of bubbles behind. “Then I’ll exorcise some of the evil so long as you come help me dry.”
Standing next to Ben was a bad idea. Sitting across from him for their third meal together had been difficult enough. Even with Stacy there, Liza kept catching herself watching him. It wasn’t that he was so handsome she couldn’t resist—though, that played a small part. More than anything, Liza was in awe that he was standing in her kitchen. Not even in her kitchen, actually. In the kitchen of a stranger Liza was house-sitting for.
Liza’s mom had always said, “God laughs while you’re busy making plans,” but never had that felt truer than now.
Even with her divorce from Cliff, there had been some sense of inevitability. But seeing Ben in Willow Beach? Eating dinner with him? Washing dishes with him?
Liza had never imagined anything like that could happen. Well, not since she was twenty-four, at least.
And that was the problem.
At one point, Liza had imagined some measure of domestic bliss with Ben, and now, here he was, more handsome than ever and washing her dishes. It put Liza in very dangerous territory on her quest to focus on the future and forget the past.
“Here you go,” Ben said, holding up a dripping wet baking sheet.
Liza sighed and grabbed the towel from the rack on the front of the oven. It would be faster and simpler to play along and then kick Ben out once the dishes were done. So, that’s what Liza would do.
At least, that’s what she planned to do. Until Ben suddenly broke the silence. “I never told my sister about the two of us.”
Liza nearly dropped the baking sheet. “What?”
“You and me,” he said, scrubbing at the bits of pastry left behind from the beef Wellington. “I never told Stacy that we used to date. She was young at the time, so she didn’t care about my personal life, and it just never made sense to bring it up. She had no idea who you were when she hired you.”
“I assumed as much. Does she know now?”
“I told her the important parts.”
Liza snorted. “I’m dying to know what you think the important parts are.”
“I told her we dated in our mid-twenties.” He handed her a plate, and their fingers brushed during the transfer. Liza yanked the plate away, nearly dropping it.
“That’s it?” Liza could think of several other important details to mention.
Ben sighed and dropped a cup into the soapy water, turning his full attention to Liza. “What else would you have added that I left out? I’m sure you’d love nothing more than to tell me how and why I’m wrong.”
Liza had dated a coworker she had at the photo lab. She’d dated a friend of Dora’s who played football at the junior college. Liza had dated several noteworthy men in her life.
But the only one she’d loved was Ben. She’d loved him deeply.
He wasn’t another ex-boyfriend to her. He was the ex-boyfriend. The one who shattered her heart and made her a cynic.
Though, perhaps Ben was on to something. Although all of those things were true, Liza had no desire to say them to Stacy or anyone else. No one needed to know. Regardless of what had happened between them, Liza was fine.
Yes, her marriage had ended in divorce after twenty years.
Yes, she’d never had children like she’d always imagined.
Yes, she’d given up her lease and was technically homeless outside of the cottage on the beach she was house-sitting.
Liza’s life was a mess, but in every other way…she was fine. And that was all Be
n needed to know.
She shrugged. “I would have mentioned something about how you let the most amazing person you ever knew go and how you’ve regretted it every day since and how time has only made her more luminous.”
Liza was teasing Ben and deflecting the seriousness of her feelings all at the same time, but when she looked up at Ben, he was staring at her, his green eyes wide and blinking. He looked like he’d been hit upside the head with a frying pan, dazed and distant.
“I was kidding,” Liza said quickly. “I don’t think you actually feel that way. It was a joke. Just a joke.”
He actually shook his head slightly, blinked, and then shaped his face into a smug mask. “Did I forget to mention it? I did tell Stacy all of those things. Every single word. You nailed it.”
“Ha ha.” Liza rolled her eyes and took the last cup from Ben, drying it off as he pulled the plug on the sink.
They were done. He could leave.
He wiped his hands on the towel and, rather than heading for the door, leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. He had on a flannel button-down with gray pants, and he looked like a hip lumberjack. All he needed was suspenders and a stocking cap.
“There’s nothing left to clean,” Liza said, gesturing around the kitchen. “You can go now.”
He sucked in his cheeks for a second and then, as if deciding something all at once, he pushed off from the counter and crossed the room to stand in front of Liza. She stepped away from him on instinct.
“Go out with me.”
She screwed up her face. “Now?”
“No. Tomorrow.”
She stared at him, hoping for more clarity, but his grassy-green eyes revealed nothing. “Why? Is it for the wedding or—”
“It’s for me,” he said. “For us. I think we should go out…together.”
Liza shook her head, hardly believing what she was hearing. “Just a few days ago, I told you I didn’t want to talk to you anymore. Why would I go out on a date with you?”
“Because fate has brought us together again, Liza, and I don’t want to ignore it.”
Hearing the word “fate” fall from Ben’s lips hit Liza like a knife in the chest. It hurt. It tore down her walls and reminded her of the naïve girl she’d once been.
“Your sister’s wedding brought us here.”
“No, this cottage on the beach brought you here,” Ben pointed out. “Stacy’s wedding is just a way to occupy your time. Imagine if Stacy and Jonathan had decided to get married in another small town? Or if Jonathan had been able to push back his business trip? If he had, I wouldn’t be here. Stacy wouldn’t have needed my help, and I’d still be at home.”
“Coincidences aren’t fate.” Liza crossed her arms and took another step back. “And even if it was fate, crossing paths doesn’t mean we need to do anything more than say hello and keep on moving.”
He twisted his mouth to the side and narrowed his eyes. “Fine. Then go on a date with me and prove it.”
“Prove what?” she asked. “People have been talking about fate and destiny for centuries. I don’t think I’ll be able to disprove it over dinner.”
“Prove that there’s nothing between us anymore,” he said. “Let’s go to dinner, without any other people or leaking pipes or wedding tasks, and talk. Just talk with me for a few hours as friends, and I’ll leave you alone.”
Friends. Liza had called Ben that once.
When Dora saw him sitting in her section for the third night in a row, she’d teased Liza about her new boyfriend. He’s just a friend, Liza had said. It was true at the time, though it didn’t stay true for long.
Would the same thing happen again?
Not in one night, Liza thought. Ben was charming, but in one night, even he couldn’t undo all of the damage he had done.
“You’ll leave me alone?” Liza asked.
“If that’s what you want.”
“Oh, it’s what I want.” She spun on her heel and marched to the front door, pulling it open and gesturing for him to go.
He listened, walking all the way to the door and stopping in the threshold. “So?”
“So, don’t be late. Pick me up at six and have me home by nine.”
Ben grinned, and a dormant part of Liza’s heart fluttered. He stepped onto the porch and then turned to her and doubled over in a deep bow. “Good night, my lady.”
Liza shut the door before he could stand all the way back up.
14
Liza thought the worst part of the evening would be Ben picking her up for the date and dropping her off. That was when they’d be alone. It would be the part of the evening where she’d be forced to sit in the enclosed space of his car, wrapped in the scent of him, and only inches away from the electricity that seemed to pulse from his very center.
As it turned out, Liza had underestimated Ben.
He picked her up at six sharp, wearing dark blue pants, a light gray button-down, and a burgundy bomber jacket. His facial hair had been groomed down to a thin stubble, and his hair was parted on the side, patches of gray and white hairs visible along his temples.
He looked good. Liza had to remind herself that it didn’t matter.
This wasn’t a normal date. She and Ben weren’t going out to test the waters and see if they liked one another. It was more like they were going out to tour the shipwreck of what once had been.
Liza knew she could like Ben. She’d liked him all those years ago, and it seemed many of the qualities she admired then still remained. The difference was, Liza knew what it felt like to lose Ben, and she had no desire to go back there again.
No, this date was simply a way to prove to Ben that Liza had fully moved on. Thirty years separated them from their breakup, and Liza was not in Willow Beach to regress.
She would be moving forward. Without Ben.
“Gorgeous,” Ben said, staggering back from the porch steps dramatically, a hand on his heart. “You’re a picture, Liza, dear.”
Liza had pulled out her forest-green sweater dress for the occasion. It was form-fitting and flattering while also still being stretchy and breathable. Plus, it fell to just below her calves, which meant she could wear flannel leggings rolled up underneath the dress for added warmth.
“Unfortunately,” Ben continued, earning a warning eyebrow raise from Liza, “your shoes are not going to work for what I have planned.”
“They’re booties,” Liza said, angling her foot. “Just a tiny heel.”
“No heels. Trust me.” Ben winked, and Liza’s instincts told her to do exactly the opposite. But, despite her doubts, she went inside and put on a pair of white slip-on sneakers.
“Better?”
He grinned and offered his well-toned arm. “Perfect. Shall we?”
Ignoring his arm, Liza walked down the steps and past him to the car. “If we must.”
Ben drove the same path Liza usually walked into town. He followed the road along the beach for a while, and Liza expected him to turn onto Eleventh Street to get to Main. When he didn’t, she expected he’d take Seventeenth. Yet again, he passed it.
Liza turned to him and frowned. “Where are we going?”
“To dinner.”
She hitched a thumb over her shoulder. “The restaurants are all that way. Everything in town is on Main Street.”
“Everything in town is in town, but we aren’t going to town.” Ben smiled, and Liza’s stomach flipped with nerves. What did he have planned?
They drove along the ocean for a while until, finally, Ben turned onto a small dirt road that snaked up the side of a hill. It was barely wide enough for two cars, and trees seemed to press in on other side, blotting out the dying evening light of the sky. Liza tried to remain calm and not ask too many questions—she didn’t want to seem nervous—but she didn’t like where things were headed.
“There’s nothing up here,” she repeated. “Where are we going?”
“I’m not taking you to the woods to mur
der you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I wasn’t, but I am now,” she mumbled.
Ben chuckled but kept driving.
Finally, the ground leveled out, and Ben turned down an even narrower dirt road and followed it to a small parking lot. Liza was relieved to see another car parked not too far away. At least she knew there’d be someone to hear her scream.
Ben turned the car off and climbed out, but Liza didn’t move. When he came around to the passenger side and opened her door, she kept her arms crossed.
“You agreed to this date,” he said. “I have three hours before you have to be home. Two hours and fifty minutes, now that we’ve driven here. You’re cutting into my time.”
“I’m not getting out until you tell me why I’m about to traipse into the woods. I thought we were going to dinner.”
Ben held out a hand to her that Liza refused to take. “We are. Trust me.”
Liza snapped her attention to him, jaw set. “Why should I?”
“Because you’ll have more fun if you do.”
His answer was simple and immediate, but compelling.
Fun.
Liza had almost forgotten what that felt like.
Once again, she ignored his hand and climbed out of the car, smoothing out her dress as she stood. “Fine, but if you’re going to make me hunt my own food or gather nuts and berries, I’m stealing your car and leaving you here.”
Ben handed her the keys. “I’d expect nothing less.”
They walked down a smooth dirt path between trees. The wind was colder up on the hill than down by the beach, and Liza pulled her coat more tightly around her.
“Don’t worry. It will be warm where we’re going,” Ben said.
Liza didn’t understand what he meant. From what she could tell, there weren’t any buildings around, and last time she’d checked, nature didn’t come with a thermostat. She was tired of asking questions she wouldn’t get answers to, however, so she stayed quiet and kept moving.