The Street Where She Lives

everyone’s hearts light and happy.

Ben cocked his head, then sat up and put a hand on Rachel’s arm, looking into her eyes. “You okay?”

“I am,” she said, and it’d never been more true. “I really am.”

He smiled again, and went back to the game.

But left his hand on her arm.

AT THE END of the week, Ben was still there and Rachel didn’t know whether she was sorry or relieved. They’d had coffee together every morning. Lunch, too, at the house if she didn’t have a therapist or doctor appointment, or at a cafe if she did. They had dinner together as well, with Emily, the three of them somehow finding things to talk about.

Or argue about.

But things were never dull. She’d gotten rather used to his presence, shockingly enough, to listening to him talk, laugh, watching his tall, lean form play basketball as if he were sheer poetry in motion, hearing him mutter to himself in his darkroom, seeing him with Emily. Every part of having him live in the house was both a comfort and a nightmare.

When he left, her life would go back to “normal,” to what she’d built for herself and Emily, and it was a great life. She had her daughter, her house, her career…well, maybe not her career, but even so, she had no real regrets.

And yet, when it came to personal relationships…she’d be alone. She was alone now, no doubt. But with Ben’s presence she could almost imagine how it would be if he ever settled down and stayed in one place.

The weekend arrived, and per her usual Saturday morning routine, she sat in the kitchen with a cup of tea and the newspaper. Her leg ached today, so she had it elevated with cool packs. She sat there telling herself it was okay with her that Ben had managed to get her lazy daughter out of the house at dawn for a hike.

She told herself she enjoyed the peace and quiet of the empty house, but the truth was…she would have enjoyed the hike more.

Even if she didn’t have the strength for it.

But neither of them had asked. She held her cup of tea and looked around her, as always in quiet moments like this, experienced some lingering uneasiness about Asada. She hated that she still felt the urge to peek over her shoulder, and chastised herself for her paranoia.

The FBI had reassured them over and over that with every passing day their chances increased that Asada wasn’t ever going to make a move. Which meant Ben was in all likelihood free of any obligation.

A good thing, Rachel decided. A very good thing.

Suddenly the door opened and Melanie bounced into the kitchen with unaccustomed energy for a Saturday morning. Shocked, Rachel stared at her. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Mel tossed her keys on the table and plopped herself down. She was made up and dressed to kill with a leather skirt, halter top and do-me heels. “Thought I’d visit.”

Rachel eyed the difference between the two of them-she in her loose, gauzy, shapeless sundress, hair undoubtedly wild, feet bare, no makeup-and had to laugh at the two extremes. “Last I checked, it was a Saturday. A day you traditionally reserve for sleeping past noon, getting a manicure and catching a movie.”

“Oh. Well, maybe I’m all movied out.”

“Uh-huh.” Rachel narrowed her eyes. “What are you really up to, Mel?”

“Me?” Mel dumped three tablespoons of sugar into her tea, then after a moment’s hesitation, went back for a fourth. “Just wanted to see how you’re doing, that’s all.”

“You just saw me last weekend, plus you called three times this week.” Rachel cupped her fingers around her tea, still needing to be warm all the time in order not to stiffen up. Her life had forever changed, there was no doubt of that, but she refused to let others change their lives because of what had happened to her. Leaning in, she put a hand over her sister’s. “Mel, you don’t have to give up your life for this. For me. I’m doing fine.”

Her sister shrugged. “Maybe I don’t believe you.”

“Why?” Rachel had to smile as she lifted her arms. “Don’t I look fabulous?”

“No.” Mel didn’t smile to soften the blunt word. “You look miserable. Like you’re hurting, and I don’t mean physically.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Rachel stared down into her tea and lied. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, that’s because we’re discussing you. If we were tearing apart my life, which we’ve done often enough, then you’d know exactly what I was talking about.”

“Mel-”

“Look, I know I’m a screwup, but I don’t expect it of you.”

“And just what am I supposedly screwing up?”

“Seen Adam much lately?”

“A little.”

“Because of his busy schedule?”

“Uh…no.”

“Because you’ve been ignoring him?”

Rachel looked at her fingers. Specifically her fingernails. Which were ragged and hadn’t seen a nail file or polish in months.

“You know, before the accident, I’d have sworn you were this close to sleeping with him.” Mel held up fingers only an inch apart. “Maybe even considering marrying him.”

“The accident changed everything.”

“The accident did…or Ben?”

Rachel’s gaze jerked up to Mel’s before she could stop herself. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Is it ridiculous that you never sleep with anyone? Is it ridiculous that if you did, you’d fake an orgasm rather than tell them they’re totally inept with the female anatomy…or that you can’t seem to relinquish that last little bit of control?”

“Mel-”

“Admit it, sis. You don’t know how to let someone be that close to you.”

“Like you know!”

“Hey, I know how to climax.” A smug smile crossed her well-glossed mouth. “Often.” She flashed a look to the man who’d just let himself in and was now leaning back with lazy ease against the doorjamb, unabashedly eavesdropping on what Rachel figured to be her most embarrassing moment. She wanted to crawl in a hole and die- Right after she killed Melanie. “Where’s Emily?” she asked, striving for cool, calm and collected.

“Bathing Patches, who seems to have a thing for jumping in puddles.” With a wry smile, Ben lifted his leg to examine the bottom of his jeans, which were mud splattered. Then he leveled Rachel with one of those classic Ben looks that made her pulse scramble and her skin feel too tight. “Don’t let me interrupt.”

“To not interrupt you’d have to be on the other side of the closed door,” Rachel muttered.

Melanie grinned. “Talking sex makes her grumpy.”

“Not me,” Ben offered.

And Mel, still grinning, nodded. “Me, either. So Ben…we’re taking a survey…do you ever fake your orgasms?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Me, either.” Melanie cocked her head. “It just seems like if someone was going to fake it…then they’d fake it the other way. You know, like they didn’t get one.”

Given Ben’s wide grin, he agreed.

“That way, you’d get another,” Mel reasoned. “Maybe even two, depending on how fast you can come.”

“I’m with you.” Ben looked at Rachel and the temperature shot up in the room to boiling point. “Orgasms are good.”

Melanie laughed. Laughed. “Yeah. Well, if Ms. Prude here would get off her duff and call Adam over here, maybe she’d figure it out.”

Ben’s smile faded at that.

Not noticing, or maybe not caring, Mel jumped down off the counter and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” Rachel demanded of her sister.