“You tried,” he said, rushing to my defense again.
“No, I didn’t try hard enough. And for that, I’m sorry.”
“You know what? I wasn’t always easy back then either. My home life, my lack of what everyone else had, was like a nasty chip I carried on my shoulder. But I don’t want to keep circling on the issue either. Let’s put an end to this. I’m an adult now, all grown up with my own money and career, and you’re doing your thing, making your way in the world. Let’s eat takeout as the people we are now, and leave those two in our past.”
My shoulders dropped. “Okay.” I didn’t know how Ben did it, but he seemed to render me speechless often.
“Go on,” he said, pointing to his phone in my hand. “See what you might like.”
Swiping at his screen, I scanned the menu. “Oh, this place is even better. More Thai than Chinese. It’s Thai, you knew that, right? Pho house . . . mmm, looks delicious. I love pad Thai.”
Ben grinned. “We’re very advanced here. I usually get the fried rice, so I think of it as Chinese takeout. Fried rice is my weakness. You need to try it. Give me the phone, and I’ll call.” He took the phone back, saying he also loved the ginger chicken. “Should we get a few things and share?”
“Great.”
And just like that, it was so easy. Ben ordered the food, told them he’d be there in twenty minutes, and ordered me to relax with a glass of wine before he was out the door.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“Yep. The owner is a patient of mine, and I like to say hi. I’ll have wine when I get back. It’s a bit of a drive from here, but I need to support them.”
As I poured myself a cheap glass of vino, I couldn’t help but wonder, Is this a date? It was my second night eating with Ben, which was more than I’d done with a man since fleeing New York.
Shit. I swore silently, another transgression my mom would lecture me about.
I could hear her now. Ladies don’t swear. Especially those in the public eye.
Good thing I’m not in the public eye anymore.
Although, if she had her way, I’d be back before I knew it. I needed something to hold me here more firmly. My mom would have no problem steamrolling into the Bean and berating Zara—with a smile on her face—and have her begging for me to pack up and leave.
Double shit. I needed to call Hunnie. If she hired me, I could tell my mom it was an actual job. She didn’t have to know it was an internship.
Finding my phone tucked into the side of the couch where I’d been planted since Ben left, I looked up where I noted Hunnie’s number and dialed.
“Hello?”
“Um, Hunnie, hi. It’s Murphy Landon. We met at the farmers’ market.”
“Oh, Murph, whatcha up to? You lonely on a Sunday night? What are you calling me for? Some company?”
“Uh, no. Shoot, I forgot it was Sunday night and you’re probably relaxing. I worked at the Bean today.”
“Ha. Well, this is Vermont. Things aren’t as fancy here. It’s fine to call me on a Sunday night. How’s the Bean?”
“I don’t mind it. Actually, I’m liking it quite a bit, and thanks for the tip on the white shorts.” One thing my mom had taught me that stuck and was worthwhile—always lead with a genuine compliment.
“It’s nothing. So, are you up for the internship?”
“Yes, that’s why I was calling. I wasn’t sure if you’d made up your mind.”
“I’m not an idiot. If I can have some big-city chick help me, I’m taking it. That’s what I need to get some of those fancy pants in Manhattan and Boston to buy my honey.”
Butterflies swarmed my belly. “I can’t make any guarantees—”
“Look, Murphy. You know Ben, and that’s good enough for me. If he likes someone, and I can tell he likes you, they’re good people.”
“Oh.” Good thing I was on the phone. My cheeks were burning like crazy.
“Listen,” Hunnie said, “I gotta run. I’m heading out. Call me tomorrow around two? Does that work? I’m usually at my desk then, and we can set up a time to meet and go over a few projects.”
“Sure. Wait—is it okay that I keep my job at the Bean? I know you advertised this as a paid internship, and I don’t want to break any rules.”
“Definitely stay at the Bean. Zara pays better than I do—unless I can get the Rooneys to jump on board with my petting-zoo idea. Ha. Talk to you Monday. Now, go find that surgeon hottie, hear me?”
Hunnie hung up before I could respond to what she just said, and Ben was knocking on my door.
My head swam with what this all meant in sleepy, small-town Vermont.
10
Ben
“Wait,” I said, empty containers of Thai—not Chinese—food spread across the weathered table in front of us.
“It’s true,” Murphy said, trying to scowl. “So what? I’m learning.”
“Murph, you work in a coffee shop, a fancy-pants craft-coffee joint, and all you have is a Keurig at home. How is this possible?”
“It makes fine coffee,” she said defensively. “I used to go out for coffee a few times a day in New York because I didn’t have a coffeemaker back then. And then I moved here, and it was a while before I found the Bean. Even so, I still use the Keurig sometimes in the morning. I can’t spend ten bucks every time I want a cup of coffee.” She pulled her feet underneath her, her back against the armrest, her gaze pinging around the room as she desperately avoided my eyes.
I couldn’t help the laugh rolling out of me.
We’d had a great dinner, devouring everything in front of us, and finished
