Page 65 of Every Good Thing
“Did you? Tell him?” she asks, perking with hope.
“It didn’t seem appropriate around the family. I will Monday morning. He’ll appreciate hearing it from me directly.”
She absorbs the information and then nods. “You… like him. A lot.”
“Yes.”
She sighs, turning her attention to Ruthie, playing nearby. Her expression remains pained, though. I take her splinted arm in my hands, examining it gently. Brownish-blue bruises mix with the red areas. It’s less swollen today, but her fingers stay fixed in one position, unmovable. She pulls her arm away, as if me looking at it makes it hurt more.
I take a breath and say what I wanted to tell her last night. “The studio’s contract is a good deal. I understand why you accepted it.”
Her eyes gloss over with potential tears, but she keeps them in. “Thank you for that. I should’ve consulted you. You always think of things I don’t—”
“No, you covered everything.”
“So, you’ll accept the circus?” she asks with reserved amusement.
“Yes. Of course. Anything for you, and you’re right. It’ll probably be good for us.”
Tears slip to her lashes, and I love knowing exactly how she feels. Lena wears her emotions so freely, so beautifully, like a bold, colorful dress that moves with her and changes with her mood.
Loving me must be torture for her. I’m cardboard to her watercolor canvas.
“Ben, don’t be hasty about the job. It’s an incredible offer, working for someone you truly admire. You have time to consider it. Why not take it?”
“It’s more trouble than it’s worth, especially with Lauren involved.” My teeth clench, considering her stunt when Lena called. It could’ve been innocent, but remembering how she occasionally manipulated her parents as a teenager, I can’t be sure. Regardless, Monday’s call feels easier to make.
Lena’s weak voice cuts through my thoughts. “Do you still care for her? At all?”
“No, I don’t. Not like that. She and her family influenced me greatly. We share some fond memories. That’s all.”
I hesitate, watching Ruthie play. She waves a large fern leaf and marches in a one-woman parade along the deck. A pained smirk brings me back to Lena, eyeing me intently with her big blues like she wants to dive into me and swim around until she gets the answers she needs.
Answers she deserves.
“Lauren hurt me terribly. She couldn’t… handle my injuries.” I scoff. “Neither could I.” The words hang between us, and Lena stays silent—a relief. It’s hard enough without questions. My brow pinches with the memory, inciting my headache again, and I want to get small and disappear so I never feel that way again. “I’m still… angry.”
My head hangs at the admission. Angry and ashamed would be more accurate. Lena’s fingers curl around mine, encouraging me without making a sound.
My eyes land on hers again—there’s no judgment in her expression. Only acceptance. So, I tell her exactly what I’m thinking. “I didn’t know love until you.”
A smile joins her tears like she knows exactly what I mean. Of course, she does. The strength of our love passes between us, energized by my rare vulnerability and her usual Lena-ness. It’s strange to say, but I love it when she’s moved to tears, when she feels so much over something I’ve done or said that she literally can’t hold it in. Tearful Lena is beautiful and genuine and adorably herself. Adorably mine, too. I run over the wetness with the pads of my thumbs. Her forehead settles against mine. Sharing the space in our pocket, I relax in us again.
For all I lost with the Rileys, I gained so much more. A complicated multiverse, yes, but a better one, too.
Her delicate fingertips slide up my cheek. “Thanks for telling me that. I see it’s not easy to talk about it.”
“It isn’t.” Talking about what happened to Lauren and me is the last conversation I want to have with Lena as if the toxic remnants might spill over from one to the other like ink spreading on a paper towel. I never want her to know the full story.
But she smirks tearfully, looking more hopeful. “I’m here whenever you’re ready.”
Ruthie bumbles over, waving the fern, and Lena sits up, regaining her composure. She grabs the cooler and sets it between us. “For now, let’s just enjoy the day, huh?”
“Good idea.” I hold down the notch and open the cooler. Inside, I find mason jars of lemonade and plastic-wrapped subs. I grab the top one, ogling the exorbitant amount of plastic wrap she used. The plastic is almost as thick as the sandwich.
Lena holds up her injured hand in defense. “I had trouble with the plastic wrap. It’s hard operating with one hand.”
A chuckle rumbles from me. “I understand… though the environment may not.”
