Page 62 of Love, Rekindled

I hook my arm in his as we walk. “You’re still very sweet. You play with my hair. You still have no issue telling me what you think.”

Ben snorts. “You still don’t listen then and you’re nuts if you think I’m sweet.”

“Nope. You’re wrong. You’re very sweet.”

“Doubtful.”

“I know sweet Benjamin Pryce and you are a big teddy bear with a heart of gold. Now, how am I the same?”

“You still argue.” Ben nudges me.

“Ha!” I laugh and then shrug. “That’s an occupational hazard. I argue for a living.”

Ben takes my hand in his. It’s so innocent and sweet, and I pull it out.

“Sorry,” he says with a hint of sadness.

What the hell is wrong with me? I’m so ridiculous. “No, I am. I’m sorry,” I say, stopping in front of him.

“You don’t have?—”

“I do! Please, let me explain.” I know this is going to go over like a ton of bricks but there’s a reason I’m such a mess. “I told you how Harold and I had to spend our entire relationship in secrecy. Well, that was the same with touching. I could never hold his hand if we were walking like this. Just in case. Just in case someone from the firm or a client saw us. It was just reflex and I’m sorry.”

Ben steps forward, his hand cups my cheek and my instinct is to move, but his other hand comes up, trapping me between his strong grasp. “You don’t owe me an explanation, but I will say that I can’t begin to understand how he could stop himself from touching you. I know you miss him and wish you were with him, but God, I don’t understand it. I don’t know how the man could keep any distance from you.”

“There’s something wrong with me,” I confess. “That’s the thing. It’s clearly me.”

Through this entire night there was something bothering me. Through dinner and then the movie I never once missed Harold. I wasn’t wishing it was him instead of Ben. I didn’t think about Harold other than to think how stupid he was.

“No, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

My hands wrap around his wrists, but he doesn’t pull his hands down. “I just mean that I don’t miss him. I was engaged to him, and I don’t miss him. I haven’t thought about him. I haven’t wondered what he’s doing or thought about how he must feel. Because I don’t care. It’s crazy. I mean, there has to be something wrong with me because no one doesn’t miss someone they were going to marry a few weeks ago, right?”

Ben’s eyes are filled with so much emotion. “There is nothing wrong with you, Gretchen. Nothing.”

I shake my head and a tear falls. “I was going to marry a man I didn’t love. I would’ve stood at that altar and said I do. All for what? To follow my plan? To fulfill some stupid idea I had about life? I would’ve done it. I would’ve spent the rest of my life with him, had those kids, lived that lie.”

I look at him to give me the answer telling me I’m crazy. It would at least explain what’s wrong with me. How could I not think about Harold? How is it that Ben is what consumes my thoughts at night?

There’s something about him holding me that made me feel secure, which I haven’t felt in a long time. Deep inside, I know that Ben will protect me, my heart, my feelings. Hell, he’s doing it now. He isn’t running and hiding for fear that someone might see us. No, he’s taking me in his arms—in public.

His hands are out for me to hold, not making me a secret.

And then there’s how my body reacts to him—which is a whole other problem. He’s...Ben. He’s the sweet guy who carried my books. The one who always made sure I didn’t sit alone at lunch. He’s always taken care of me, and he’s doing it again.

Ben’s voice is low and cautious, but underneath I hear something else that I can’t name. “Thank God you didn’t.”

My heart races at the inflection in his voice. I want to ask him why he feels that way or said it at all, but instead, Ben wipes the tear from my cheek and takes a step back. “Now, no more talk about what’s wrong with you. We have part two of the date. Okay?”

He puts his hand out, allowing me to take it this time. I nod, untrusting of my voice at this point, and put my palm in his. Knowing he might have just taken a part of my heart back again.

* * *

The second partof the date is probably my favorite. Okay, it definitely is. Ben took me to the boardwalk. It’s not like what I’m used to in New Jersey, but it reminds me a bit of home.

“You didn’t have to do this,” I say as we walk with his arm around my shoulder.

“Yes I did. You’re a Jersey girl and I know all too well what we grew up doing.”

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