Page 50 of A World Without You
“Do what?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer, even as he pauses at the front door. “I’ll always want the best for you. But just know, it’s not Colin.”
Shock enraptures my chest. “W-w-we’re not getting married.”
He absorbs the fact for a moment, then nods. “Good.”
Just as he turns to leave, I grab the sleeve of his jacket. “Why?” I ask with sore eyes and a confused, breaking heart.
Bennett’s jaw tenses as he stares down at me, but he doesn’t answer.
“Why isn’t he what’s best for me?” I ask as if he needed me to complete the question, but really, I’m just begging.
Answer the question. Help me understand what’s happening to me.
He draws in a slow breath before answering. “You fake it with him.”
My chin snaps back at the absolute absurdity. I feel so in sync with Colin—mind and body. His touch alone wrecks me, and I exclaim with rapt enthusiasm, “I donotfake it with him!”
“God, that’s not what I meant,” Bennett responds, wincing like he just sucked on a lemon. “I don’t care if Colin’s a good lay. I’m talking about you. And that smile. You fake it.”
“What...” the word comes out like a breath.
“I know when you fake your smile. When you’re trying your best to be polite even though you want to run wild. I know when you’re trying to fit in a role and not creating your own. I know you, Liv. And I can tell when you fake your smile, and I haven’t seen you smile a real one with him in years.”
I swallow the sick taste of truth in my mouth, but I don’t speak. My eyes fall closed, and when they open, Bennett is walking out the door.
Then he’s gone before I can even utter a word.
Shocked, still a little drunk, and stuck in this dream for far too long, I make four batches of cookies.
I’m an emotional baker.
When the last batch is out of the oven, it’s nearly three a.m. The last cookie is on the cooling rack as the apartment door clicks open.
Colin walks through, looking tired and overworked. His five o’clock shadow is reaching the length of tomorrow morning, and his perfectly swept hair is disheveled in a way he’d never allow if he had access to a mirror. His coat and tie are slung over his arm, and he throws down his bag upon entry. He’s wearing the maroon shirt unbuttoned, like I guessed. His brow is furrowed, and his eyes are a dark shade of gray.
That is until he sees me.
His brow unfurrows, his arms open, and his smile brightens. “You,” he begins, scooping me up in his arms with a bright smile and three small, soft kisses, “made my favorite cookies.”
I smile against his lips. “I did.” I don’t tell him what else I did, and I’m sober enough at this point that he doesn’t say anything else.
He continues to kiss me but opens his eyes to glance over my shoulder. “A lot of them.”
I don’t move away from his lips.
I think of the journal entry.I asked him to come for me.
Getting drunk at a bar and singing Celine Dion.You’ve got a lot of nerve coming here.
Bennett.I want what’s best for you. Just know, it’s not Colin.
That can’t be right. It’snotright.
I kiss Colin again. Harder. Longer. Deeper. Clawing at him and kissing him, asking him without the words if he came for me. Is that what changed everything?
“Are they gluten-free?”
