Not Your Match (27 page)

The next day at work, Ben couldn’t stop thinking about the almost-kiss. After class yesterday, Andi had given him a shy smile and then said she needed to discuss something with Elle. He’d left Footsteps for Change not sure where he and Andi stood.

If only Elle had walked into the room one minute later. Andi’s lips had been so close, the smell of her coconut lip gloss overwhelming him. Had she really been about to let him kiss her? For years he’d longed for her to see him as more than a dance partner. And now, she finally had.

He was desperate to explore their relationship and see where it lead.

The last bell rang. Ben helped a few students check their grades and gave the makeup assignment to someone who’d missed the previous class. When everyone had left, Ben pulled out his phone and texted Andi.

Ben: We need to talk. Can I see you?

He was in the elevator at the condo before he got a response.

Andi: I swear I’m not trying to avoid you, but this week is crazy. I really need to help Elle with something. Can we get together on Friday night? Maybe for dinner?

It wasn’t as soon as he’d hoped for, but he’d take it.

Ben: Friday at six. Dinner at my place. I want to show you the new kitchen. I’ll cook.

Andi: Sounds great. See you Friday.

That seemed so far away. But if she was busy, or needed to think, he’d give her the time she wanted.

He’d waited a long time for this. He could wait two more days.

Ben pulled his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the condo door, already anticipating Friday. Maybe he’d make burgers—she seemed to like them at Rachel’s birthday party. They wouldn’t be quite as good in the frying pan as on the grill, but still tasty.

Ben swung his door open. The scent of braised beef and grilled pineapple instantly engulfed him, catapulting him back to the time when he and Whitney had been happy.

The newly removed archway gave him a clear shot into the kitchen. Whitney stood at the stove, sautéing what he knew was mixed vegetables in olive oil and Parmesan cheese. It was the meal she’d made him nearly a year ago for his birthday—the one he hadn’t been able to eat enough of. She wore the same green dress that swished around her calves, her hair twisted into the same side bun with a flower in it.

Ben let the door slam shut. Whitney turned around, a brilliant smile on her face. “Hi, honey. How was work?”

“How did you get in here?”

“I borrowed a key from Rachel. I wanted to do something nice for you.” She grabbed the pan of mixed vegetables off the stove and put it on the table. “Let me get the beef out of the oven, and then dinner’s ready.”

Ben’s mind whirled. Typical Whitney mania. Years of training had him cautiously stepping into the kitchen. He set his computer bag on the new breakfast bar, then carefully washed his hands.

Had she completely lost it and believed they were still together? Was this another ploy to get him back? He had no idea what to think.

Whitney filled his plate with mixed vegetables, wild rice, and braised beef. Ben sat down and waited for Whitney to do the same. He followed her every moment, wondering what she’d do next.

Had the kiss at the basketball game somehow made her snap? Had their argument over the phone pushed her over the edge?

Whitney picked up her fork. “Rachel and I got our nails done today.” She held out her hand, waving it in front of his face. A fresh manicure stared back at him, the deep red polish glistening under the florescent kitchen lighting. “It was nice to get together and share some girl talk.”

Ben slowly cut off a piece of beef and placed it in on his tongue. He couldn’t even taste it. This was some bizarre parallel universe where Whitney hadn’t gave him back his ring.

“What are you doing, Whit?”

She blinked. “What do you mean? I’m telling you about my day. Why, did you have something you wanted to tell me first?”

He put down his fork. “You can’t come into my condo whenever you want.”

“I made you dinner.”

“We’re not together anymore.”

She slammed her fist on the table, making her water glass jump and spill. “Stop. Saying. That.”

White-hot fear sliced through him. But for once in their relationship, he wasn’t going to back down because of what she might do or how she might behave. “I’m sorry. We’ve been through too much, and I can’t recover from it.” He wanted to say
you put me through too much
but he didn’t want to make this harder for her than it already was. And though she had certainly made their relationship a lot more complicated than it needed to be, he’d made mistakes, too.

Whitney put her hands over her ears and let out a scream. “We are
not
over.”

“Yes, we are.”

“You kissed me last week. That has to mean something. I can fix this. I can make it right.”

Ben closed his eyes, forcing down the tears. “I’m sorry I kissed you. I shouldn’t have.”

Whitney stared at him, her eyes luminescent. “I can’t do this without you.”

His heart cracked, and the weight of guilt nearly toppled him. Had he enabled her too much? Coddled her too often? Had he lead her on at the basketball game? He reached across the table and squeezed her hands. “Yes, you can. Your parents will do anything to help you, Whit. Go home. Go back to the therapist. Get back on your medication.”

“Why can’t you love me for me?” Tears streamed down her face, smearing her mascara. “Why does it have to be about medications and doctors and pills?”

“I
did
love you for you. That’s why it broke my heart so much to see you acting like someone else. This isn’t you.”

“If we aren’t together, then what am I living for?”

He rubbed his thumbs over her knuckles, their hands resting on the table alongside the braised beef, wishing he could make her understand. He looked her right in the eye, even though he wanted nothing more than to avoid her tear-streaked face. Those tears had always been his undoing.

But not anymore.

He missed Whitney—the girl he’d met and fallen in love with in college. He ached for the future they had planned for together and would now never have. But they would never work. He no longer even wanted them to.

His feelings for Andi eclipsed everything else now.

“You should go home,” Ben said.

Whitney screamed, the sound ripping through Ben. She placed her hands under the cheap dining table and pushed it up. Food slid off the table, landing in Ben’s lap and tumbling to the ground. Plates shattered as they hit the floor. One of the legs on the table collapsed, folding in on itself until it snapped.

Whitney rose, her chest heaving. “I hate you, Benjamin Rhodes. I hate you for doing this to me. You led me on!” Her shrill voice echoed about the condo.

Ben stood, bits of braised beef and broccoli tumbling from his lap. “I’m sorry about the kiss. I shouldn’t have let that happen. But I have been clear from the very beginning that I wasn’t interested in getting back together.”

He barely had time to register the swing of her hand before her palm connected with his cheek. A sharp sting zinged through his face. Whitney pointed a trembling finger at him. “You will live to regret this. If I walk out that door, I’m not coming back. You’ll be making the worst decision of your life.”

He thought of everything he could say, the accusations and hurt he could throw her direction. But she was sick—desperately needed help—and he knew this wasn’t the real Whitney. He didn’t want to hurt her more than he already had.

“Goodbye, Whitney. I hope you find peace.”

She let out another scream and stomped her foot, then whirled and left the condo, not bothering to close the door behind her.

Ben stood there, hands in his pockets as he watched Whitney leave. The urge to run after her was strong. Years of habit screamed at him, but he fought it back. He had to let her go so they could both move on.

He was no longer responsible for her decisions. The guilt washed away, like water headed downstream, and a warm peace filled its place.

She didn’t own him. She didn’t have any power over him. Whatever Whitney decided to do from this point forward, it wasn’t his fault. He would always care for her, and he wished her the best. But that chapter of his life was over.

A knock came tentatively on the door, and Andi peaked inside. Her hair was pulled up in a twist, a briefcase slung over one shoulder. “Ben? Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Come in.”

Andi pushed the door open wider and stepped inside, then gasped. “What happened here?”

“Whitney happened.”

“She did all this?”

“If you mean did she sneak into my condo, cook my favorite meal, freak out when I told her we weren’t getting back together, overturn my table, slap me, then leave? Then yeah. That’s what she did.”

“Oh, Ben.” Andi was at his side in an instant, her arms around his waist in a tight hug. He pulled her to him, relishing the feel of her body pressed against his. She didn’t seem to care that she stood in a pool of juice from the pan of braised beef, or that a broccoli floret had attached itself to the front of her shoe. She wasn’t asking him what he’d done wrong to cause Whitney to flip out.

In that moment, the contrast between Whitney and Andi was startling. Whitney was emotional and unpredictable. Andi was level-headed and consistent. Whitney focused a lot on herself. Andi constantly thought of others. Whitney had tried to guilt him back into a relationship. Andi let things progress naturally between them. He tightened his arms around her waist and kissed her softly on the cheek.

She pulled back, eyebrow raised. “What was that for?”

“For being you.”

“I’m so sorry about this, Ben.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about.”

She let go and he craved the loss of her physical touch. Andi was the real thing, and he would do anything to help her see that.

She motioned to the breakfast nook, where the broken table lay amid the ruins of dinner. “Is this what it’s always like with her?”

“Not always. But most of the time.”

Her smile was sad but compassionate. “I’m going to change, but I’ll be back in two minutes to help you clean this up. Don’t you dare start without me.” She gave him one more hug. “It’ll be okay.”

He knew it would be, because he had Andi.

He waited until Andi was gone, then dialed Rachel’s number. There was only one way Whitney could’ve possibly found out where he lived and gotten into his condo. This time, he would make it abundantly clear to Rachel why she needed to stop interfering.

“Hello?” Rachel said.

Ben rested a hand on his hip, surveying the disaster that was his kitchen. “You owe me a dining room table. Whitney destroyed mine.”

“Whoa, back up. What happened?”

So Ben told her the summarized version. Even a week ago, he would’ve glossed over details and tried to downplay the situation. But not anymore. It was time to tell Rachel everything. When Ben finished, it was silent on the other end of the line except for the sound of breathing.

“Ben, I swear I didn’t give her a key.”

He folded his arms, hearing the truth in her voice. “Then how did she get one?”

“I think she stole it out of my purse. It’s missing from my keyring. I can’t believe she’d do that. I can’t believe she’d do
any
of this.”

He closed his eyes, wishing Rachel could maintain her rosy perception of Whitney forever, while at the same time grateful she now realized what he had been up against, and why he’d had to let go. “It isn’t the first time something like this has happened. She’s really sick, and she needs help. Talk to her, okay? Encourage her to go back to Arizona. And please, don’t let her keep living at your house.”

“I’ll talk to Adam and we’ll figure something out. And I’ll get the key back from her. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m glad it wasn’t worse.” Ben said goodbye, and then hung up.

He prayed that was the last conversation he’d ever have to have with or about Whitney.