Page 40 of Every Good Thing
“How long were you two together?”
“A few years.”
“Years?” Her blue eyes go wide. “How come you’ve never mentioned her?”
“Seemed irrelevant. Why should I?”
“Um, because knowing about significant exes provides an important backstory in a relationship.”
“No, it isn’t. What does it matter?”
“It matters now,” she protests. “And because you haven’t told me about her, I have to play catch-up. Where did you meet her?”
I grab a washcloth and soap it up. “High school. The Rileys were family friends.”
Her eyes go even wider. “High school sweethearts?”
“No. Well, sort of. We were friends first. I was older so—”
“How much older?”
“Two years. I waited until she was eighteen.”
She gawks. “What? Why? That never matters in high school.”
I shrug. “It mattered to me. It felt like the right thing to do.”
She groans. “Friends first. First love. Together for years. It sounds perfect, like one of Cherry’s romance novels.”
“It was far from perfect.”
“Well, tell me about her.”
She inches closer, her legs butting softly against mine under the water. Still, she gives me a cock-eyed glare. It’s her go-on-Ben look—I see it often. But this territory seems fraught with landmines. I don’t want to discuss Lauren tonight—or any night.
Lena and I have varying views on what’s need-to-know. She told me too much information about her former marriage to Mark, unsolicited. I would’ve preferred not to know.
But Mark isn’t a factor in our lives, and Lauren suddenly is. So, the day’s guilt catches up to me.
“Fine, we were good friends,” I say, gently running the washcloth over her cheeks and neck. “She helped me with algebra. We connected over unrealistic family expectations. She didn’t want to go into her family’s banking business. I didn’t want to go to college. The Rileys have a long history of military service that I admire—her aunt, father, and grandfather. That influence led to my decision to enlist.”
Her mouth drops. “So, you didn’t just date their daughter. How can you call your history with her irrelevant?”
I wince. “My relationship with Lauren set me on a path, yes. But my decisions were my own. I’ll have little contact with her if I accept the position.” I slip the washcloth over her shoulders and chest, hoping to distract her.
She moves closer but narrows her eyes, dissatisfied.
“Please, can we just drop it?”
“No. Tell me how it ended.”
“We broke up.”
Her eyes narrow. “That, I figured out. Why?”
“Forget it. I won’t take the job. It’s decided.”
Lena scoffs and gives me her serious look again. “Ben, if she’s irrelevant, why is she hard to talk about?”
