Page 62 of Let's Call a Truce
I flipped to my weather app and cringed when I saw the current temperature listed as 38 degrees.
Juliana:Too cold. Staying in my bed where it’s nice and warm.
A knock sounded on my door at the same moment I hit send. Ben called from beyond the door, “Stop being a baby. Wear the fleece I gave you and you’ll be fine. I’ll be downstairs waiting. See you in ten.”
I took full advantage of those ten minutes, spending eight of them in my warm bed before throwing on my running clothes and ear warmer with lightning speed. The elevator opened into the lobby, and my eyes found Ben immediately.
He was leaning against the wall, all cool confidence. He looked handsome in his fleece running shirt, but the bottom half of him caught my attention.
“Shorts? It’s thirty-eight degrees, you maniac.”
“Exactly. It’s not even freezing outside.” He smiled brightly, laughing at how I was already rubbing my hands together when we weren’t even out the door yet.
He led me out of our hotel on the edge of Copley Square, and I tried to distract myself from the cold with the beautiful view of the Boston Public Library and Trinity Church, marveling at the history on each corner here. I loved Orlando. It was a bright, warm hub full of fun activities and hidden gems the theme park tourists never find, but something was historical if it was built in the 1960s. This was a different world.
I followed Ben’s lead as we started at a leisurely pace down one of the larger streets until we reached the gardens. We traveled the winding paths that led us up and around the perimeter of the Common. The beauty of the parks and the architecture was just enough to distract from the fact that I was freezing.
I’d expected the city to be quiet on such a cold, dark morning, but the streets were already filling with people: speed-walking women and men in business clothes, bleary-eyed students with bags slung over their shoulders, and others like us who were masochistic enough to run in this weather.
“My favorite street in the city is coming up at this next turn,” he said quietly, almost reverently.
I could see why. The street was wide with stunning brownstones lining each side. The broad road left space for a thin park running down the center, peppered with statues and benches.
“I grew up here on Comm Ave. My parents’ brownstone is coming up in a couple houses.”
He pointed to a simple redbrick brownstone sandwiched between two ornate white buildings that looked like they belonged in Paris rather than Boston. Even with the relative simplicity of his childhood home, I knew the property value had to be through the roof. I imagined what his charmed life must have looked like, snowball fights on his stoop, lounging in thepark on a warm summer day, so different from my childhood spent in bathing suits and tank tops, running through our cheap sprinklers to cool off.
“Are you going to see them while we’re here?” I huffed out. My muscles had warmed up over the past two miles, but the cold air still stung my poor Southern lungs.
“They moved. It was the house my mom grew up in, and my grandparents passed it to her when she had kids. Both of my brothers settled down in Southern California while I was in college, and when it was clear I was going to stay in Orlando and they’d have no one to pass it to, they sold and moved out West.”
“I’m sorry. It must be hard to be so far away from them.”
He sighed but nodded his head. “My brothers both went to school in San Diego, and I get why my parents picked there instead of Orlando. Two kids and seven grandkids out there. I used to think about moving there, too, especially after Paris’s mom left, but we had a whole life in Orlando. And now I can’t imagine pulling Paris away from that.”
I was floored again by how much this beautiful man had given up for his daughter.
“She’s lucky to have you.”
“Was that a compliment, Ms. Ryan?”
“Don’t get used to it.”
He laughed. “Thanks. I won’t. Now let’s get you back inside before you turn into an icicle.”
He cut us through a side street, bringing us back to Copley Square with the expertise of someone who had spent years on these streets. I huffed into my hands in the lobby, rubbing them hard and jumping up and down. I turned to Ben to see him laughing.
“What? You’re lucky I survived at all.”
“Your cheeks and nose are bright pink.” He ran his thumb across my cheek. “You’re the most adorable Rudolph I’ve ever seen.”
I laughed, both hands braced on his stomach as I pushed. My fingers tangled in the fabric of his fleece, tugging him back before he could move more than a few inches from me. His hand flexed in response where it was wrapped around the side of my neck.
“It’s tomorrow,” I whispered. “Should we talk?”
He groaned and dropped his forehead to mine. “I don’t think we have time before we need to be on campus.”
“We have half an hour. How long do you think this will take?” I asked with a laugh.
