“That’s why I’m standing here. You deserve a second chance, Murph. It’s no secret that my heart belonged to you in high school, which is kind of crazy because nothing ever happened. But here we are, all these years later, grown adults, and I’m still carrying a torch for you.”
“Ben, please, listen to me. I was wrong back then. I know it. But I am who I am, and there are things I’ve done, things you don’t seem to know about, that you shouldn’t be a part of.”
“Stop. Like I said, I’m not concerned with all of that. Unless you have an exotic communicable disease.” He leaned in and ran his lips across my cheek.
“Ben.” I tried to escape his hold, but he kept me close. “I’m not used to this. Silly Ben, Confident Ben, Doctor Ben, all these Bens wrapped up in one package. And a very fit one at that.”
“Get used to it. I’m coming after you, Murphy. I’m dropping all the bullshit, the past and where we came from, because I want to know this you.” He planted a quick closed-mouth kiss on me. “Forgive me?”
I nodded, not wanting to lose contact with his lips. For as much as Ben gave me a headache from the hot-then-cold vibes, I was sure I did the same.
Oh well, I wasn’t going to turn down kisses from Absolutely Delectable Ben.
“Dinner?” Ben asked later, leaning against my hideous green kitchen counter after our kissing and not-enough-making-out session.
It didn’t get much further than our tongues tangling and Ben’s palm grazing my side cleavage before he’d said, “Let’s slow things down.” When I groaned, embarrassing myself, he added, “It’s not like I don’t want more.”
I suggested a drink before remembering all I had was crappy wine, but he took me up on it.
“So, you had to work today?” I asked, pulling down two wineglasses.
“Yep. Low man on the totem pole in my practice, so I get the crappy weekend calls. Broken hip, return offender. Poor guy lives alone, won’t listen about getting help, keeps getting up on a ladder to change his light bulbs. Second time this year I’ve fixed him up. I’m hoping his family steps in this time.”
“Aw, poor guy.”
“Yep. I was out on an early morning hike with a buddy and stopover at my mom’s, but work called.”
“Wait? Can you drink that?” I motioned toward the secondhand-store wineglass I’d just handed him.
“Yes. We switch off at five o’clock. Someone else is on for the next twenty-four hours. I do have to go in and do rounds in the morning, but right now, I’m hungry and grateful for the vino.”
I took him in, his blue eyes bright, his hair an unruly mess.
“What?” he asked, giving me a curious look.
“Just looking at you,” I said boldly.
“Oh yeah?”
“I would’ve recognized you anywhere.”
“I’m pretty sure I knew who you were right away. You look pretty damn good yourself.” He slipped his arm around me and pulled me close, whispering the last part in my ear. “But before anything else, I have to eat.”
“Oh,” I said, disappointed. I wasn’t sure when I’d turned into such a vixen. Even when I’d supposedly seduced a student, it was a slow-burn thing. We’d texted through a dating app, then met for coffee a few times.
“It’s been fourteen years. I think that classifies as slow burn.” My eyes grew wide. “Wait, did I say that out loud?”
“You did, but you don’t have to go into any details until you’re ready, Murph. I’m serious, I don’t know what the hell went on with you, but I want you to tell me yourself.” His stomach rumbled through the last part. “How about Chinese takeout? I know you like it. Remember you guys used to order it all the time in the dorms on Sunday nights?”
Ben switched gears, steering away from my transgressions, and I didn’t know if that was for my benefit or simply the way he was. An unfamiliar emotion swept through me at the thought of what a decent guy he was.
Sensing myself being taken over by feelings, I said quickly, “They have that here? Good Chinese food?”
This earned me a laugh and a wink. “We may not be the Big Apple, but we’ve got everything you need right here in sleepy little Vermont.”
As Ben pulled up a menu on his phone, I wondered why I’d been such a loser and hadn’t given him a chance back then.
Then I remembered. I’d been a snobby bitch, for lack of a better word.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered as he handed me the phone with the menu.
“For what? Doubting we have good Chinese here?”
I swallowed, feeling a lump of regret the size of a peach pit slide down my throat, and decided to put myself out there. “I’m sorry for how I acted back at Pressman. We keep circling around it—the past, what happened, how sorry I am, how you did the best you could. Honestly, Ben, you have nothing to be sorry about or to regret. You came there with the best of intentions, and most people treated you crappy. Maybe me the most.”
He frowned at me. “Don’t say that. You were nice to me . . . in private.”
“Just don’t. Please don’t make excuses. Shoot,” I said, picking at a loose cuticle.
Damn. I’m going to make a mess of my home manicure, but it’s too late to worry about that.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” I waved at my cracked, faded countertop. “You’re starving, and we’re stuck in this tiny excuse of a kitchen. Maybe it’s talking about Chinese food, reminding me of when we used to order, and you never joined in.”
I’d just had this memory the other day, but I didn’t mention it.
“Or maybe it’s just the day I’ve had. My mom, she’s a piece of work. She taught me to always be this nice person, but that only applied to people in my same social bracket.
