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More elastic bands twang and my heart inches higher in my chest. He is completely and utterly charming, but it doesn’t feel unctuous anymore. I don’t think Ben would say anything to me that he didn’t mean.
If I weren’t so invested in Boston, who knows what would have happened this week.
Except, if I wasn’t so invested in Boston, I would have never ended up in Ben’s apartment. We probably would never have seen each other again after Aurora and Deacon’s engagement party. Our paths would never have crossed again. There’s a crushing feeling against my breastbone—a real sense of loss, at even the thought of not having gotten to know Ben more.
“Even without the fancy restaurants and you knowing exactly what to say at exactly the right time, you’re still a really good guy, Ben.”
His smile falters slightly, and I reach for his hand. “And if it makes you feel any better…” I nod toward the window, our names still on the most famous building in America for everyone to see. “I was close to falling in love with you.” I take a breath. He might not think I’m being serious, but I absolutely am. “A couple more days and who knows what would have happened.”
He rolls his eyes at me. “Let’s have dinner and you can stop teasing me.”
“Oh, I have no intention of stopping teasing you,” I say.
He holds my gaze for a second, then two, then three. “Good. I wouldn’t want you any way other than how you are.”
I don’t think any man has ever said anything more romantic to me.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Ben
When I wake up on Sunday morning, relief courses through my body when I realize that Avril’s still in the bed with me. After coming back from the Sleepless in Seattle restaurant last night, Avril insisted she needed one of the cookies I’d baked to help her fall asleep. We didn’t even discuss whether I was going to join her in bed as we watched more Bravo reality shows, I just climbed in next to her and we must have fallen asleep here.
She shifts next to me and then she straightens her arms over her head and groans as she stretches, and my dick hardens. Jesus, maybe I should have slept in my own bed last night. I just want to pull her toward me and wrap my arms around her.
“I feel more tired now than when I went to bed,” she announces.
“Those facts combined with the snoring indicates sleep apnea,” I say. “You should see a doctor.”
She thwacks me on the chest, and I catch her hand and slide my fingers into hers. She doesn’t resist, like it’s just normal for us to wake up in bed, chat and hold hands.
I kind of wish it was.
“Do you have plans for us today or can we enjoy one final day of bed rot before I move out tomorrow morning?” she asks.
“Oh,” I say. We haven’t discussed the logistics of her leaving. I knew she was going tomorrow, but hearing the time she’s going brings things into clarity.
One final day with Avril.
“I only have one thing planned. But I can cancel it.”
“Was it better than bed rotting?” she asks.
“Is anything better than bed rotting?” I ask.
She laughs. “I’ve converted you. You never knew it, but it was my plan all along. I’m on a mission to make all the rich, successful men in New York turn to bed rotters one by one.”
“Well, you exceeded your goal. I’m not sure I’ll be able to do anything at all with my weekends after this time with you.”
She smiles like I just told her I’d managed to have the owner of the Boston hotel sell to her. “And my work here is done.”
“You want to get DoorDash? Order popcorn and stuff?” I pull out my phone. When she doesn’t answer, I look up.
“It’s eight in the morning. What have I done to you?”
I grin. “I told you. You’ve ruined me.” As I’m holding my phone, it starts to ring. It’s my assistant. Patti. My stomach sinks. She wouldn’t call me if it wasn’t urgent. I’m tempted to just ignore it, but there’s no way I’d do that. I make myself available twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. That’s what I do.
“Is that your mom?” Avril asks, her eyebrows raised in question. “Who else would call this early?”
