Anything But Love (17 page)

C
HAPTER
F
OURTEEN

H
ow the hell had he screwed up so badly?

That was the question that haunted Ben over the next few days, as he started to get ready for his move to Chicago.

There was plenty to do. Packing, planning, long-distance apartment hunting . . . and he only had six weeks to do it in. He should have been focused on his extensive task list and on spending time with friends and family before he left New York.

But all he could think about was Jessica.

He’d been so sure she’d want to keep seeing him in the time he had left. How could he have read her so wrong?

It wasn’t that he didn’t understand her decision. She had a lot going on right now, emotional stuff as well as life stuff. She didn’t need to deal with him on top of all that—especially when she’d been so clear that they would only be together while they were in Bermuda.

So yes, he understood her decision. There was a lot going on in his life, too. But the fact was, none of his obligations would have stopped him from seeing Jessica if she wanted to see him.

Maybe that was part of the problem. Maybe he’d come on too strong—especially for a guy who’d be leaving town next month.

He shouldn’t have talked about the dolphins at Shedd Aquarium. Maybe that had scared her. But how could he not suggest that she come to visit him, after the intensity and passion they’d shared? Could she really draw a line under that experience and move on as though nothing was different? Because he couldn’t.

No . . . it wasn’t talking about the dolphins at Shedd that had done it. Because right after that, Jessica had made a joke about Chicago herself.

I could look for a job anywhere. Like . . . say . . . Chicago
.

He’d assumed she was making a joke because she was nervous about going home. Something along the lines of,
New York is the last place I want to be right now. I’m dreading it so much I’d even consider moving to Chicago.

His response had been to reassure her that she had nothing to worry about. That New York City was her home and she’d do great there.

But it was after that part of their conversation that the dynamic between them had changed.

He was lying awake in bed, something he’d done every night since they got back from Bermuda. Now he clasped his hands behind his head, stared up at the ceiling, and replayed the airplane conversation one more time.

Was it possible that Jessica hadn’t been joking? That her remark didn’t have anything to do with anxiety about returning home? That she was actually willing to consider moving to another city to be with him?

It seemed insane. Why would Jessica uproot herself and come with him to Chicago? Unless . . .

Unless she’d fallen in love with him the way he’d fallen in love with her.

The way he’d . . .

His thoughts stuttered and stopped.

Time seemed to slow. Everything seemed to slow. In the silence and stillness, every heartbeat seemed to have significance.

He’d fallen in love. He’d fallen in love, dammit, and he’d been too blind to see it.

He took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

Okay, so he was in love. But what about Jessica? Was there a chance she felt the same way? If there was—if there was even a shadow of a chance—didn’t he owe it to both of them to see if it could lead anywhere?

He sat up in bed, full of determination. He grabbed his phone to call her but balked when he saw how late it was.

Damn.

They hadn’t had any contact since saying goodbye at the airport—a few short words and an awkward hug that had been a million miles from the intimacy and passion they’d shared in Bermuda. Home that night in his empty bed, he’d woken up more than once reaching for Jessica . . . only to realize she wasn’t there.

Three more nights had gone by since then. He’d finally called her this afternoon, only to get her voice mail.

He should have left a message—something friendly and casual. But when he’d heard her voice, he’d choked.

He’d disconnected the call without saying anything. He’d berated himself for freezing up, but then he remembered that her call history would let her know he’d reached out to her. If she wanted to call him back, she could.

But she hadn’t called back. What kind of signal did that send him?

She wasn’t missing him the way he was missing her. Her heart wasn’t aching the way his was. She didn’t feel lost without him the way he felt without her.

Or maybe she did, and she just didn’t know how to tell him. Maybe she hadn’t called him back because she didn’t know what to say.

Of course she might still call. Tomorrow, maybe, or the next day.

Male pride dictated that the next move be hers. Calling her again before she returned his call reeked of desperation. By the time he’d gone to bed that night, he’d decided the only thing he could do was wait.

But that was before the realization that he was in love with her had hit him like an anvil. Male pride be damned—he was going to tell her how he felt.

But he had to do it right, which meant in person. So the first step was to get her to meet him.

It was too late for a phone call. But he could text, right? If she happened to be awake, she could answer. If not, she could answer him tomorrow.

It was a decent plan. But what the hell was he going to say?

After a long moment, inspiration struck. He double-checked a sports news item he’d seen that morning and then tapped out a message.

ICYMI: Bermudian cricket star Charles Tucker hits 11 sixes and 6 boundaries and scores a 37 ball century.

As soon as he hit Send he wished he’d just waited until the morning and called her. Because now he was going to lie awake like a goddamn teenager wondering if she’d seen his text or if she was sleeping or—

His phone vibrated.

Tell the truth. You don’t have any idea what that means, do you?

His heart sped up.

Not a clue. Do you want to explain it to me over coffee sometime?

Less than a minute had elapsed between his first text and her response. This time, it was a good three minutes before his phone buzzed again—long enough to complete his transformation from grown man to adolescent boy.

How about next weekend? Say 2pm Saturday at the Central Park Café?

That was a week away. He wanted to see her sooner—right this minute, in fact—but Jessica was worth waiting for.

Sounds great. See you then.

After another hour spent tossing and turning, he finally fell asleep. He dreamed that he met Jessica for coffee like they’d planned . . . but when he tried to speak, only nonsense words came out.

Ben got to the café ten minutes early on Saturday, but Jessica was there before him. It was a sunny day and she was sitting at one of the outdoor tables, sipping an iced tea and reading something on her phone.

It had been ten days since he’d seen her. At his first glimpse of her, an electric surge went through him.

She was wearing khaki slacks and a sleeveless white blouse. Her fine blonde hair was held away from her face with a blue cotton headband. Her face, perfectly made up, looked focused and concentrated on whatever she was reading.

She looked gorgeous, but then she always did. His reaction to her ran much deeper than his body’s response to her physical beauty.

He knew the mind and heart and soul behind that beauty. He knew Jessica’s strength and vulnerability, her fears and her courage, and the light inside her that had refused to die.

It was that light that drew him to her.

And now, as he shook himself out of his stillness and walked toward her, he knew that it always would.

She looked up when he was a few paces away, and a smile lit up her face.

That smile did something to him. It made him feel ten feet tall, as though there could be no greater accomplishment than being the reason Jessica smiled like that.

“Hey,” he said as he took the seat across from her, wincing a little at the inanity of the greeting.

“Hey,” she said back, slipping her phone into her pocket.

There was a pause. Ben started to say something innocuous about the weather, but he found himself remembering his dream and the words stuck in his throat.

His mother liked to say he had the gift of gab. Jamal had told him once he could talk anywhere, anytime, about anything. His students just said he talked too much—although they also said he managed to explain formulas and algorithms in a way that didn’t make their heads explode.

The upshot was that Ben never had trouble thinking of what to say or how to say it. But right now, staring at Jessica like a man who has seen an oasis after days in the desert, he couldn’t seem to form words.

“So,” Jessica said after a moment.

Ben just waited, hoping she’d continue and save him from having to speak.

“So,” she said again. She folded her hands on the rickety wooden table and leaned forward, reminding him of that night in Bermuda—the night she’d asked for his help.

Just like he had then, he mirrored her posture, folding his hands on the table and leaning toward her. “Are you looking for legal advice?”

She snickered. And just like that, the awkwardness between them was gone.

“I’m glad you suggested this,” she said, relaxing back in her seat and smiling at him.

He smiled back, and it occurred to him that nothing in his life had ever come easier than smiling at Jessica. “Yeah?”

She nodded. “There’s something I want to tell you.”

His heart beat a little faster. “There is?”

“I had an appointment yesterday. With a therapist.”

Other than a declaration of love, it was the best news he could have heard. “That’s great, Jess. How was it?”

“It was good.” She paused. “Well . . . not exactly good. Not yet. It was more like I could see that it would be good, someday—after a lot of work. Does that make sense?”

“It makes a lot of sense. You liked this therapist, then?”

“I did. A friend recommended her, and even though I’ve only seen her once, I can tell she’s good at her job. I think I’ll be able to trust her . . . eventually. With time.” She took a breath. “I’m going to be seeing her two or three times a week at first, which will be intense. But I think I can do it.”

He reached out and covered her hands with his. “I know you can. You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever known, Jess.”

It had been an automatic gesture, an instinctive urge to comfort. But at the feel of her small hands in his, her soft skin against his callused palms, his heart started to pound.

Jessica’s cheeks turned pink. “Thank you.” She pulled her hands away and sat back in her chair again, and he did his best to pretend he didn’t miss the contact.

“That’s not all that happened this week,” she went on. “I also met with Everett.”

“Tom’s boyfriend?”

She nodded, and suddenly she was grinning. “There’s a new Wildlife Foundation initiative dealing with climate change and marine life, and Everett asked me to head up their fund-raising arm. I’ll be starting next week. Oh, Ben—fund-raising is work I understand, work I’m actually good at . . . and I’d be doing it for a company I’ve always loved. What do you think of that?”

“I think it’s amazing. Tell me more.”

“It’s going to be crazy busy until we get some systems in place and do some hiring, but I don’t mind. I want to be busy. I want to work hard. I wake up in the middle of the night thinking about all the things I want to do, and I keep a notebook by my bed so I can write down my ideas. I’ve never been so excited about a job. Everett introduced me to some of the people I’ll be working with, and they’re incredible. I think I want to—”

As Jessica kept talking, Ben felt like two different people.

One of them was proud of his old friend. She sounded so good—so excited for the future, so full of life. This was what he wanted for her. This was the Jessica he’d always known she could become.

But the other part of him felt his heart sinking to his toes. There was no way he could derail what was happening in Jessica’s life. No way he could ask her to come with him to Chicago—not now.

So as he listened to Jessica talk about making her dreams come true, he allowed his own dream to die. Because in the end, what he cared about was Jessica’s happiness.

Ever since the night he’d texted her, the night he’d realized he loved her, he’d been thinking about how to tell her. Imagining himself saying the words.

It had never occurred to him that he might decide not to tell her. But hearing her now, seeing her now, he knew those words would have to go unsaid. Because telling Jessica he loved her would only complicate her life, and not in a good way.

They were in completely different places. They weren’t focused on the same things. When he woke up in the middle of the night, he thought about Jessica. When she woke up in the middle of the night, she thought about her new job.

When she’d said that, he’d remembered himself as a young teacher. Fresh out of school, he’d been so full of energy and enthusiasm that he’d wake up at two in the morning with his mind full of lesson plans. Romantic love was the last thing he’d thought about in those days.