Souvenirs (22 page)

“Ben?” She moved the phone away to avoid sniffing in his ear.

“Are you crying? Grace, please don’t cry.”

“Why didn’t you want to see me open them?”

“Because I lost my bottle.”

“Huh?” she asked as she wiped her cheeks.

“My nerve,” he explained. “Besides, I wanted you to have them with no strings attached. They were always yours.” He was quiet for a moment. “Do you like them?”

“They’re beautiful. All of them.”

“I’m . . . glad.” His smile was audible, and she imagined him staring at the floor to hide his eyes. “When I didn’t hear from you—”

“I was trying not to be greedy. The bracelet is my favorite.” She ran her fingers around the circle. “I can’t stop touching it.”

“I know the feeling. It’s late, you should get some rest.”

Despite her belief she’d never sleep again, Grace sat all her treasures on her nightstand and snuggled under the covers. Her pillow cooled her heated cheek. She blinked once, twice.

And woke with the alarm four hours later.

At eight a.m., she yawned and watched one of the studio vans wind down the driveway. It was time for the LARP.

Meg and Paul were already aboard in the middle row, Morris and Susan sat in the back, and Ben waited on her in the front row. Max was their driver and Josh, their host, rode shotgun.

As she sat, Ben pulled her close and kissed her cheek. “Good morning—”

A paper cup hit him in the back of the head.

“It’s about frickin’ time,” Susan hooted. “I thought you’d never get off your ass.”

“Idgie,” Ben continued as if they hadn’t been interrupted. Then he picked up the cup and hurled it back at Susan.

“Don’t make me pull over,” Max yelled over his shoulder.

Grace munched on one of Meg’s homemade breakfast sandwiches, sipped coffee, and watched the coastline fly past the window while Ben talked with Paul. Fed, warm, and relaxed, she let the rumble of his voice lull her to sleep.

He nudged her awake as they slowed to a stop. The passengers emerged into a clearing surrounded by forest and then ringed by weathered limestone crags and cliffs. In the meadow, thirty or so of Josh’s friends were mingling with the crewmembers who had already arrived. Gino was inspecting the weapons of choice—squirt guns and water balloons.

A few makeshift sets had been cobbled together, and the costumes were clearly second or third hand. It was enchanting, and Ben offered his hand before she could reach for it.

The players walked forward as if they expected an invasion instead of visitors. Even Josh fell silent as his worlds collided.

Finally, one of the pack broke loose. “Hi, I’m Jason. This is my girlfriend, Molly. Back there is John, Sara, Mike, Tammy, Pat, Eddie, and Matt.” He offered his hand. “We’re glad you’re here, Ms. Donnelley.”

“Grace, please. And it’s my pleasure. This is incredible.” She motioned everyone on her side forward and pointed out, much the same way he had done. “Max, Paul, Meg, Susan, Morris, and Ben.” She centered her gaze on Molly. “Why don’t you show me around while everyone else gets acquainted?”

After the tour, she rejoined the group at the weapons table, where they were assigned battle positions.

“The kid playing Weathermore looks like he’s twelve. I feel ancient,” Ben grumbled as he shoved a water pistol into the waistband of his jeans.

“Hey.” Susan elbowed him. “That’s your third weapon. You can’t be hoarding all the good stuff.”

“Really?” He stared at the Supersoaker she held in front of her as if she was preparing to battle the Terminator.

The day flew by, coated in laughter, sunshine, and water. Grace and Susan stopped at the edge of the clearing to watch as Ben emerged from his post unscathed.

“Oh, that is
so
not fair,” Grace whined. “I’m covered in mud, and he’s not even wet.”

“Not yet.” Susan pointed as Paul, Beau, Max, and Gino led the younger members of the group on a pincer sneak attack, putting Ben in the center of a wet crossfire. The shock on his face was priceless. Then he dropped to his knees, arms outstretched, and died a heroic, watery death.

Grace wiped away tears of laughter as she watched him bounce to his feet and shake the water from his hair. He wore a broad, loopy smile as he joined the guys and they regressed into boyish schoolyard play.

Jason met them in the middle of the clearing.

“This was great. Seriously.” Grace looked around as dusk fell. Campfires had started, giving the set a post-apocalyptic feel. “I could have never imagined this.”

“Umm, we usually do a group picture. We’d love to have you all in it. If you’d rather not, we’d understand.”

Everyone nodded their agreement, but all eyes turned to Ben.

“Sure. I’d like a few people to know I’m not a grouch.” He grinned at the young game master. “As long as I get a hat.”

Everyone milled together, and Ben slapped his new hat on his head as he pulled her close. He smelled like fresh air, dirt, and sweat. His wide smile glittered, and his eyes danced. He put her back to his front and whispered, “Smile, doll.”

After the picture, Jason made another offer. “You guys are welcome for dinner. It’s just college camping food. Beer, burgers and dogs, s’mores. We’re gonna hang out for the evening and enjoy the air.”

Which was how Grace ended up in the light of a campfire watching Bennett Oliver in a spare surfer t-shirt, muddy jeans, and a LARP baseball cap as he played guitar with Pat and Mike while Max thumped a soft rhythm on a set of hand drums.

She left her spot at the fire and wandered through the set. Wooden storefronts covered tents, and costumes hung in anticipation of the next game. Props were cleaned and put away. With every piece she touched, she heard the descriptions she’d agonized over, edited, and researched.

“You okay?” Ben’s question pulled her from her reverie. “I looked up and you were gone.”

“Do you know how much work they must have put into this?” she asked. “Even secondhand, it must have cost them a relative fortune.”

“Jason says they leave it up all year,” Ben said. “His grandfather owns the property.”

She stroked a modified water pistol, recognizing it as the one she’d drawn on her table as Zadie’s favorite weapon. “All those years ago, I wrote this crazy story and wondered if anyone would ever read it. And look at this.”

“It’s not only you, you know? Susan and I have been asking each other the same thing since the library. It’s daunting to know kids like this will be hanging on our every word. It makes us want to start over.”

She shook her head. “The dailies I’ve seen are spot on. We’re keeping everything important. But I want to do something for them.”

“Invite them to the premiere,” he suggested. “They can sit with us and then go to the party.”

“You really do like it here, don’t you? I’ve always worried you’d think all this was too weird. It’s not like anything you’re used to.”

“True, that.”

Something about his voice made her follow his gaze to groups of college students lounging under towering cliffs and trees. The stars looked close enough to touch. It really was magical.

A violin began, a drum joined, then a flute. Ben wrapped her in his arms and swayed to the rhythm.

She looked up at his chin and jaw. “I didn’t know you played the guitar.”

“I like it. It’s something I can do between scenes,” he whispered. “Meg has suggested we stay out here. I think she and Paul are having almost as much fun as we are. And I know Susan and Morris are keen to stay.”

“Fine with me. I could use one last night of peace before we leave for London.”

“It’ll get weird on locations, Grace. Long hours, cramped quarters, frustration with the weather, racing the clock. There’s a reason Susan isn’t letting Morris come with her.”

“I can’t stay away,” she warned him.

“I wouldn’t ask you to,” he said, grinning. “Gino would be lost without you.”

When the song ended, he walked with her hand in hand. Before they left the cover of darkness, he kissed her until her knees wobbled. “Goodnight.”

“You mean to tell me you’re not—”

“Hell no, of course I’m sleeping next to you. I’d be daft to ignore a gift like that. But if I kiss you
then
, I won’t stop, and well, there are some things I don’t do in public.” He winked. “Not many, mind you.”

Curled together on their blanket, Grace enjoyed the weight of his arm around her and the solid warmth of his body against her back. The music had continued without them, and now the crack of the fire added accompaniment. Her eyes drifted closed.

“Zadie goes back for Ian?” Ben murmured the question. “From your reading last week, I gathered they’re together at some point.”

“Since book two.” She looked over her shoulder. “Didn’t you know?”

He shook his head. “I’ve only read the first one, and Fiona refuses to lend me the others. She doesn’t want it to affect my performance. She’s taking her new position very seriously.”

“Fiona lent it to you?” Grace wiggled around to face him. “When did you read it?”

“On vacation.”

“Vacation?” she whispered. “Our vacation?”

He nodded.

“You were reading my book? All your praise in Paris was for . . .” Her voice trailed off in a squeak. Warmth sparked through her, setting off a chain reaction.

“You, doll. All for you, although I didn’t know it at the time. And part of me wishes you’d been a wee bit nosy.”

She sputtered a laugh as she battled tears. “So you’re here—”

“Ah, Idgie.” He pulled her close. “I wanted an audition from the moment we left Paris.
You
may not have seen me as Weathermore, but
I
sure as hell did.”

Chapter 20

Ben helped Morris stow baggage in preparation for the flight from L.A. to New York, ignoring the pain lancing up and around his shoulder blade. He’d slept on a rock last night with Grace in his arms. For the first time, he’d held
all
of her.

From New York it would be on to London. He was finally taking Grace home.

Part of him wanted to keep her here in their little bubble, but it wasn’t fair to either of them. She needed to see the life he’d hidden from her, to see him the way he’d seen her. As much as he worried about the outcome, it was the right thing to do.

Once they were airborne, Paul swiveled his chair to face them. “Smythe wants an interview.”

“Snidely?” Ben asked.

Grace choked on her coffee. “Surely to God his mother didn’t name him that.”

“No,” Ben growled. “It’s Simon, Simon Smythe. Noah and I call him Snidely behind his back. He hates me.”

Her eyes widened. “Why?”

“Okay, maybe ‘hate’ is too strong a word. But,” he squeezed her fingers, “in the relationship camp, he’s pro-Hillary. And he’s a good friend of Archie’s. However, he has the biggest audience in London when it comes to movies. It could be great press.”

“You shouldn’t do something you dread just for publicity,” she stated. “We’ll tell them no.”

“Thanks boss, but I’m all right with this. Refusing lets him think he won something when I actually gave it to him.”

“He wants Grace, too.”

“No,” Ben snapped. “That’s a deal breaker. I won’t subject her to him.”

“Maybe you could talk about her like she’s sitting right next to you,” Grace scolded gently before she turned to Paul. “I don’t understand. Why me? I’m just the screenwriter.”

“Idgie, honey,” Ben began and then waited for her to turn her attention to him. “The library made you the biggest prize he can get, and our vacation picture is the cherry on top.”

Paul joined the discussion. “You two dating, or whatever you’re doing, will send them into a frenzy.”

“Simon’s after two things,” Ben added, “to make me lose my temper, which I’ve done quite well when he’s seen me socially, and to make you look inept.”

Grace twirled her spoon in her coffee. “I hate bullies,” she whispered. “I can do this.” Her second statement was stronger. “I can do this.”

He fought the instinct to keep her safe in spite of herself. Simon Smythe would be baptism by fire, but this was his life and it would be hers if she wanted it. She needed to make an informed decision, and he shouldn’t get in the way.

In New York, they wore baseball caps to move unnoticed through the airport and board the international flight. When they got to their seats, Ben winked as he reached for her carry on. “May I?”

She laughed as she surrendered her bag and took the window seat. Ben stretched his feet into the aisle, put his cap over his face and closed his eyes.

He woke halfway across the Atlantic and took pleasure in seeing Grace at his side. The light from her tablet lit her features while she chewed on one of her nails. Tabloid photos tiled across the screen.

“Tell me you’ve not been reading that rubbish.”

“Some of it, yes. Then it made me ill. This is what everyone thinks?”

“This is what people think of me who don’t—”

“Ben,” she scolded him. “I know. Geez. I mean us. This is what everyone thinks of us?”

“Not everyone, but we are a curiosity.”

“And Smythe is expecting to ambush me with this?”

“He’s expecting to ambush
us
, yes. People tune into him for his spite.”

She moved her tablet and he saw the script for the next project he was considering.

“Where did you find this?”

“It slipped from your lap while you were sleeping.” She held it out. “I didn’t mean to snoop.”

He took it and kissed her fingers. “I don’t care. What did you think?”

“It kept all the things that made the book enjoyable.”

“You read the book?” He frowned at her hesitant nod. “What?”

“The lead isn’t well-developed, even in the script. His character motivation is all over the map.”

He wondered if it was wrong to consider this sexy.

“What about the villain?”

“It’s got a great villain. One of those root-for-him, hate to see him die sort of guys.” Her expression wobbled between professional assessment and glee. “You’d be awesome as the bad guy.”

Oh yeah, this was definitely sexy.

“Yes I would,” he whispered while leaning closer. “But right now I can’t get them to see me. Fe is using all her charm.”

“I know the author,” she said. “I could make a call.”

“No, but thank you. I want to get a meeting on my own merit.”

They talked until London loomed on the horizon. It caught Grace’s attention, and Ben rested his chin on her shoulder. Even from the air, the city looked overwhelming.

“I’m looking forward to having you here,” he said.

It was true, for the most part. His home, his friends, his past—that part of his life was mostly pleasant. It was the other part that concerned him. What if she didn’t want to handle the craziness? Worse, what if she preferred it?

“I’m looking forward to seeing it,” she said, taking his hand as the plane descended.

They landed at Heathrow, and Ben escorted Grace to her hotel room door. Then he went home.

After months of being shut up and vacant, it smelled stale and sterile. As he always did after long absences, he wandered through the house and reacquainted himself. Art from the countries he’d visited hung in the hallway over dark gray walls. Colorful, soft rag rugs covered the floors. Photos of his parents and of Noah and Fe sat next to his favorite books. His furniture had been collected over the years, and none of it matched specifically while still managing not to clash.

Fe had stacked his mail on the kitchen counter and loaded the fridge with fresh food. His favorite chair waited on him in front of his bookshelf. He slid into the cold leather that had stiffened from disuse.

This was
him
—not a role, not a tabloid creation. Home.

And he itched to be in a hotel three blocks away. Unable to resist, he dialed his phone.

“Hi, doll.”

“Did you remember how to get home?” Grace asked.

“Didn’t even need a GPS. Mum called. She’d like us to come to brunch tomorrow. Are you game?”

“I’d love to see her.”

“I’ll ring you around nine, yeah?”

“All right,” she yawned. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

The best thing about home was his own bed. After brushing his teeth, he climbed onto the large mattress between the crisp sheets and sank against the pile of pillows. Tugging the thick blanket to his waist, he watched the flames in the fireplace across the room.

The worst thing was being in his own bed alone. At least she was in London. They were dating. He could touch her.

Ben stared at his ceiling. He’d let her sleep as late as she wanted, then to brunch, maybe to the office if she wasn’t knackered. Maybe to Fe and Noah’s, or here. He wanted her to see his home, and Buckden, and . . .

He continued his list throughout his dreams and woke early, ready to march Grace through his past so they could move into the future. It should only take about a week, maybe two.

“Except you have to work, knob,” he said to his reflection in the bathroom mirror. “And so does she. Take your time. It isn’t a race.”

At nine, he dialed. It took her four rings to answer.

“I’m up, I’m up. Give me fifteen minutes.”

“Why don’t I give you forty-five?”

“Bless you,” she yawned the words. “Good morning, Ben.”

He wanted to see the smile he could hear. He wanted her in his bed, naked, with her hair mussed and her body warm and pliant from sleep. The hell with a slow schedule. He’d drive himself to exhaustion to open his life to her. He was through biding his time.

Forty-five minutes later, Ben checked his watch and knocked on her hotel room door. She opened it, clad in a sweater, long skirt, and flat shoes. Her hair fell past her shoulders in waves. Every part of him tightened and twitched as she stood aside in a clear invitation.

He shook his head. “I have a weakness for you in hotel rooms.” Leaning across the threshold, he kissed her and swept the tip of his tongue along her bottom lip before he backed away. “This is a first, actually knocking you up.”

“I thought we were going to breakfast.” She choked back a laugh, a twinkle in her eyes.

Her blush as much as her laughter reminded him of the slang gap. His skin heated as he rapped one knuckle on the open door.

Still chuckling, she retrieved her purse.

“Is your cardigan backward?” he asked.

The sweater’s deep V back revealed a cotton lace-edged camisole. When she pulled her hair forward, he was transfixed by the sweep of her neck and curve of her shoulder. Her spine made his mouth water.

“It’s the style. I’m not that tired.” She yawned the last word.

Guilt flooded him. “I can call Mum and beg off so you can sleep.”

She shook her head and strode back to him. “Nonsense. We only have a few days off, and I don’t want to waste them in bed.”

He smirked and then gave in to full laughter.

Grace pushed him from the threshold and closed the door behind them. “You know what I mean.”

Once downstairs in the lobby, Ben guided her to the exit and checked both ways before he walked outside. He’d wager next week’s pay someone had seen him arrive. Sure enough, a man knelt on the corner, his head obscured by a zoom lens.

Reversing direction with a sigh, Ben waved at the front desk clerk and strode through the service entrance. With practiced ease, he led Grace through the maze of corridors, past the laundry and the kitchen, and out the back door.

“I hate those bastards,” he snarled as they charged into the alley.

She tightened her grip and pulled on his hand. “Slow down.”

He wheeled on her. “I won’t wait on them to—”

“We’re not waiting, but I didn’t wear running shoes.”

His breath shook as he flexed the fingers of his free hand. “Sorry.”

Grace linked her arm through his. “Where’s your car?”

“I walked.” He grinned at her frown. “Everyone walks in London, unless they take the tube. And even then I guess there’s some walking.”

He ushered her through the alley, dodging dumpsters and rubbish. “I’m sorry about this. If it’s only me, they get bored. They’re looking for me and Hill. Or, now, you and me.”

“You and Hillary?”

“Yeah. We’ll run into each other eventually. She’ll make sure of it. One kiss on the cheek and suddenly the headlines have us at the altar.”

“How do they know?”

“She calls them.”

“Wow. How are we doing on time?”

“We’re fine. Mum’s about four blocks this way.”

A few more turns brought them into the sunshine. The bustle of the city enveloped them, and they melted into the crowd.

“In Vienna she said you were close enough you didn’t have to take the train. You live nearby?”

“Three blocks the other side of the hotel. And Noah and Fe live about six blocks to the east. The office is between me and them.”

“Do you stash all your girlfriends at the hotel?”

He looked down at her, relieved to see her smiling. “Only the most special ones.”

“I wondered how you knew your way around.”

He drew a deep breath for his first confession. “I sold them the building. It was empty, and Fred Chambers wanted to open a boutique hotel. It took a little renovation, but I think it turned out well.”

“You built a hotel?”

“Noah and I did it with Fred and his partners. We gave them a discount in exchange for a small ownership interest.” That wasn’t enough truth. “He and I split a quarter share.”

“I’ll be sure to pay my bill, then.”

They rounded the corner onto his mother’s street with homes on one side and the river on the other. The Thames lapped the seawall, and Grace’s steps slowed to watch a crew row past.

“Lovely.”

“Mm-hmm,” Ben muttered as he looked over his shoulder at the quiet street. No one stared back. He faced forward and met Grace’s curious stare. Her head was tilted, her eyebrows arched. He’d missed a question.

“I’m sorry, what?” he asked.

“I asked if you rowed.”

He shook his head. “I tried, but my legs got in the way. There wasn’t enough room for me to stretch out.”

“You got all your height at once?”

“It seemed like it,” he sighed. “One summer I looked Noah in the eye, the next his nose came to my sternum.”

“It must’ve been difficult.”

He waited for a break in traffic and led her across the street to his mother’s garden gate. “I looked like a heron and my arms and legs went wherever they wanted. My ball control went to shit, and I drew yellow cards in every game for kicking and elbowing—even members of my own team. It’s how I ended up on stage.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I fell one day walking in town, tripped on a completely flat surface, and one of the older girls laughed. Rather than show her my embarrassment, I hammed it up a bit. Mum saw me. She knew I needed something other than football, so she suggested drama. My first role was in The Wizard of Oz.”

“You were the Scarecrow,” she guessed.