Page 45 of Only You and Me

“I know I fucked things up so badly when we were younger. But I promise you I’ve done a ton of work to be a better man. And you have to admit that what we had was real?—”

“Ben. You can’t be serious. We were kids, and we were only together like half a year.” I look away from him and close my eyes for a few seconds to get my bearings before I return my focus to him. The last thing I want is to hurt him, so I’m determined to soften my tone. “I know you don’t want to be divorced, but you can’t want to be with me.”

A sarcastic huff escapes him, and his head falls back, his eyes now glued to the ceiling of my porch. He takes a few deep breaths and then lowers his head and turns his entire body toward me.

“I’m going to say a few things, and I’m asking you to listen and not respond right now. Then I’ll leave and give you some space. Can you just hear me out?”

I don’t speak, only nod.

“Give me sixty more days. Sixty days for us to get to know each other again now that we’re both more mature. If after that, you still want to get a di… a divorce,”—pain flits across his handsome face—“I won’t resist. I’ll do whatever you want. Hell, truthfully, I’ll do whatever you want now because I can’t bear the thought of hurting you more than I already have in this lifetime. But please just consider giving it some time. Time where we both try to have an open mind.”

Ben stands up and walks to the door. When his hand is on the handle, his back to me, I softly ask, “Why would you want to stay married tome?”

Without turning to face me, sadness fills his voice as he says, “Because you were wrong when you said I can’t want to be with you. For the last ten years, probably longer if I’m being honest, I have wanted to be with you and only you.”

It’s only after he walks through the door to leave that my tears fall.

CHAPTER14

TRINA

My stomach’s been a quivery mess since Ben left the house this morning. When we were younger, I got used to friendly, flirty Ben. For those months when I gave in to my feelings all those years ago, I felt what it was like to be loved by him—intense and amazing. But the flip side of that is I know just as well how agonizing it is to be hurt by him. Because the Ben I fell in love with back then didn’t know how to talk through his feelings when they weren’t positive, and he reacted out of self-preservation rather than putting our relationship first.

If I’m being truthful with myself, I can’t deny that the Ben from these last few months has swallowed that pride more than once and has made himself vulnerable to me on several occasions. I’m sure my reaction to getting drunk-married to him and then to finding out today that it’s official was probably hurtful to him. Yet he didn’t strike back in his hurt. In fact, he’s been patient and understanding, mostly. But today, I wasn’t expecting him to share that he was afraid for me to the point it makes it hard for him to sleep. And I definitely never would have thought he’d tell me I’m the one he still wants, despite all the years that have passed and all the disdain I’ve shown him.

What do I even do with that?

* * *

Three hoursafter Ben left my house, I sit at a table in the Donley’s backyard with a few women from our steamy book club—Susan and Christine—and three of Annie’s coworkers from the ER that I don’t really know. I’d much rather be sitting with Emily and Shayna, but they’re both seated at the bridesmaids’ table.

It’s not that I can’t talk to people I don’t know well. In a professional capacity, I can talk to anyone because I’m aware of exactly what’s expected of me in that setting. But in a social situation, I’ve never quite fit in easily unless I’m very familiar with the people present. And you don’t get to know many people well when you struggle to make casual conversation.

Until the last year or two, I haven’t really had many female friends. I’ve always been friendly with Shayna since she’s Emily's best friend, and now Annie since she’s been around for well over a year. Then there’s Jordan Malone, Elladine Fire’s only female Battalion Chief. What started out as a professional mentorship has grown into a friendship I appreciate. But even though my repertoire of female friends is growing, my best friend for the last decade has been Fitz. No female bestie for me.

The women around me chat, and I’m grateful to have a mint mojito to hold while I wait for the party to officially get underway. As I watch three women from the table, who are clearly friends, chat effortlessly, I allow my mind to go further down the rabbit hole of why I am the way I am.

The last time I can clearly remember having female friends was in elementary school—sixth grade, to be exact. Over the summer between sixth and seventh grade, shit got real for me. As in, I grew several inches in height and developed boobs I didn’t know what to do with. My friends were all petite and rail thin with straight waists and hips and, suddenly, I wasn’t. If it wasn’t bad enough that I had gotten taller than the other girls and had very obvious breasts while they were all still mostly flat, my waist curved in, and my hips flared out. It didn’t look bad, but it was different and to a twelve-year-old girl, being different was definitely bad.

Still, I thought my friends would understand. And at first the changes in my body enamored my friends, them often asking questions I didn’t really have the answers to. But within a few weeks of starting seventh grade, the worst thing happened; boys noticed the changes in me, and it was clear they liked them. So, one by one, my girlfriends pulled away, some even turning downright cruel in their jealousy about something I had no control over.

Add that to the fact that it was around this same age that I finally understood that my mother’s aloofness with Emily and me wasn’t normal. Our mother didn’t want anyone around who took focus off of her, especially if that was the focus and attention of my father. How a woman can be jealous of her own children is beyond me. But Lorene Flynn was exactly that.

I’m pulled from my thoughts by a gasp.

“Daaaaamn,” the stunning, petite blonde sitting next to me says. It draws my attention, and I glance up right as she nudges the gorgeous brunette sitting next to her. “Annie didn’t tell us there’d be entertainment here.”

I follow their gazes to the patio doors where Ben, his father, and his brothers-in-law have just walked out of.

“I call dibs on the Jack look-a-like,” the curvy raven-haired woman says. “Jesus, I’d climb that man like a tree, no questions asked.”

I take a long sip of my mojito to quench my now cotton-dry mouth and to stop myself from verbally reacting. But inside, my hackles are up. Way up.

I bet they’d find it thrilling to end up accidentally married to Ben.

As discreetly as I can, I watch as Ben walks over and hugs his mom, then places a sweet kiss on her cheek before releasing her. I should have looked away sooner, but I couldn’t, and when Ben catches me staring, he offers me a small smile—one that doesn’t quite meet his eyes—before looking away.

“Holy shit. I think he smiled at me,” the blonde says, breathy. “Sorry, Jody,” she says to her raven-haired friend. “Looks like I’m the one Annie will be setting him up with.”

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