Page 52 of Love Beyond Repair
Sometimes, I think of her and what happened between them. If they were serious or not, if what they had was no more than a fling or a tragic love story. He’s never said much, only that it was a new relationship, and when my life imploded, he knew where he had to be. He chose me, so I don’t think I hold any grudges, not many anyway. Though Bex and I no longer speak.
I do miss my London friends. I hope one day we can reconcile and spend time together again. Years of friendship thrown away over broken relationships and fleeting romances is ridiculous. Perhaps we will be able to find a path back to one another again.
Saturday morning rolls around, and all Ben knows is to be ready by ten o’clock. He appears in the living room wearing an open-necked white shirt and khaki cargo shorts. His hair is tousled, and his aviators are propped fashionably on top of his head. Those bright-blue eyes give me the once over, and he smiles.
“You look lovely today, Kels.”
My heart skips a beat. I wore the white lace dress he loves from a few summers ago. My hair falls in soft curls down my back. I’ve gone for minimal makeup, just a touch of lip gloss and bronzer. I want to glow. Show him I’m fixed again and ready to be his girl, though deep down I always have been.
A blush creeps into my cheeks with his compliment. I hope today turns out the way I’m praying it will.
Thirty minutes later, we’re beyond the city and winding through the green fields of the English countryside. I have the directions to the location printed out on my map, and I’m reading it to Ben line by line. I found this place after hours of research. It promises privacy with beautiful views. Turning up a quiet lane, Ben looks at me suspiciously.
“Should I be checking the picnic basket for a knife?” He raises an eyebrow, and I giggle.
“You have nothing to worry about, darling. If I was going to kill you, I’d have done it months ago,” I purr, blowing him a kiss.
He doesn’t flinch or dismiss me, and I take it as a win. Before, he’s shied from my affection, gently pushing back and reminding me we’re friends, and he’s here to support me. Today is different; he almost leans into my invisible kiss.
We stop at a clearing that opens onto a small lake.
“This is it,” I squeal. “Isn’t it beautiful?” I jump out of the car and run up to the water’s edge. The lake is surrounded by trees and shrubs. Lily pads float lazily across the surface as birds sing happily overhead. It’s like a scene from a watercolor, all vivid blues and greens.
I hear the trunk open and turn to see Ben lifting the big, old-fashioned picnic basket out. With the basket in one hand and our blanket in the other, he walks toward me.
“It’s stunning, Kels,” he says. “And I love seeing you so happy.”
He lays out the blanket, smoothing the edges. Then he starts to bring out the picnic. I set up the boombox and pop in a classical CD. The music floats around us as we sit opposite each other, just enjoying the moment.
I’m not sure how much time has passed, but the picnic is eaten, the sandwiches and cakes long gone. We lie side by side, the summer sun warming our faces.
“Ben,” I whisper, “doesn’t this feel just like old times?”
He doesn’t respond, but his breathing hitches slightly. Taking this as a positive sign, I reach across and lace my fingers with his. We lie in silence, holding hands for a while, then he props himself up on his elbow and looks down at me. Our eyes lock, but I can’t miss the flicker of uncertainty. It hurts in a place I can’t name, just a little, but it’s there.
“Thank you,” I say softly, ignoring the nip. “Without you, I don’t know how I would have survived.”
He leans forward slowly and kisses me; it’s sensual and meaningful. Maybe this is his moment of remembering us. Perhaps today marks a fresh start, putting aside our doubts and anxieties.
I close my eyes, allowing the sensation to wash over me, the joy of him choosing me again running through my veins. Every cell in my body buzzes, my self-esteem building as our lips move. This is it. After months of planning and praying, we are back to where we were. Together, as a couple.
The afternoon has turned out to be everything I hoped for. We strolled around the lake edge, then waded in the shallow waters. Ben held my hand, touched my back, and pulled me close when tears of happiness fell.
“Let’s go home,” he says as the sun fades behind the trees. We pack up, throwing everything into the car and heading home.
That night, I curl into his side and wait for him to pull me closer. He does, after an initial hesitation, and I relax. It’s fine, I tell myself. We’re fine. I’ve won him back.
We’ve never discussed his relationship with Bex in detail, but we’ve both agreed that the time has come when we attempt to rebuild bridges with our friends. And that means seeing her again. I’m nervous because, in truth, I don’t know how serious their relationship was. A few months, possibly only weeks. A holiday romance just before he came back to me.
Ben’s never said more than that. Just that he knew I needed him. That the fairest thing for everyone was to break it off. And that was the end of the matter. But now, as we walk toward the coffee shop to meet the group, I’m not so sure this was a good idea. My uncertainty, which has bubbled under the surface since we returned to being a couple, burns in my chest. Heating as we get closer to the meeting point.
It turns out that not much has changed in the past six months. Bex and Amy are still living together in our apartment. Terry moved into Ben’s old room, but I’m not convinced he contributes much. As yet again, he’s out of work.
The five of us meet at a small coffee shop near the apartment. We all sit around the table looking at the floor. No one’s sure what to say. Finally, Terry breaks the ice.
“So, how’re things, you two? Long time no see.”
It’s not a very imaginative line, but I’m thankful he has started the ball rolling. The chatter is quiet and skirts around the usual topics: work, family, and extracurricular activities. Bex sits quietly in the corner as far from us as she can get without sitting at the next table. It’s clear she does not want to be here.
