Page 56 of Let's Call a Truce
“I believe I said something like, ‘Her kids aren’t my problem.’”
“Your exact words were, ‘It’s not my job to accommodate her kids.’”
The entire group sucked their teeth, and Ben raised his hands in submission.
“How are you still breathing?” Katie asked.
I smirked. “Oh, he’s paid for his crimes.”
“I was a mess. I had gotten a call from an important client who demanded he had to meet, so I ended up having to stay late because my schedule was completely full, and I missed Paris’s dance recital. It was easier to blame the new employee who missed a meeting than to bitch about a client.”
His eyes connected with mine across the table. His desire for me to understand our first interaction from his perspective was etched on his face. Life as a single parent was hard. It was impossible to keep everything in order. What I thought was an asshole coworker talking badly about me to another colleague was a stressed-out dad, venting to his best friend and projecting his guilt at disappointing his daughter onto me. It still wasn’t a good move, but I could understand it better than most.
“But that’s all behind us now.” I smiled at him and he beamed back, taking my olive branch.
The festivities continued as the sun trekked across the sky and toward the horizon. The girls started a pickup soccer game on the side yard, until Sophie begged them to do something else. They all ran back to the play set except Clara. She kept atit, practicing some flick-up skill I couldn’t recognize from how poorly she was doing it.
Her sweet face went red as she failed for a fifth time in a row, the ball tangling up under her feet and causing her to face-plant. I started to move from my spot at the snack table but saw Ben walk over first. She popped off the ground uninjured and kicked the ball hard at the fence, her face scrunched up in frustration. She said something that had Ben’s laugh skipping over the yard, but I couldn’t hear anything else they said to each other.
When she failed again, he squatted down in front of her. I couldn’t pull my eyes away from his lips as they continued to form inaudible words. He tapped a few places on her feet and calves, then gestured for her to go again. This time, the ball flew up and smacked him right in the face. Clara’s eyes went wide, but Ben laughed again, rubbing his nose. He gestured for her to move to the side, then arranged his feet around the ball, flicking it up behind him so it flew over his head while Clara watched in wonder.
A whole swarm of butterflies took up residence in my chest while I watched him work with her, failed attempt after failed attempt, until she finally got the ball to fly over her own head and squealed in delight.
It was too easy to picture him in our home. In our life. In our hearts.
A few hours later, everyone started packing up.
“Need some help with cleanup?” Ben asked. I nodded with a small smile.
Clara, Sophie, and Paris curled up on the couch watching a movie while Ben and I cleaned the dishes, shoulders brushing as we worked. The moment was natural and domestic, at once exhilarating and terrifying.
Once everything was done, Ben gathered all of Paris’s things. He looked over at where all three girls had fallen asleep. “We should get out of your hair.”
A heavy feeling settled in my chest as I watched him, laden with his daughter’s things and ready to walk out of my door. The dishes were done. The table put away. The chairs back in their proper place. I had no other excuse to keep him here, but I wasn’t ready for him to leave.
I took a step closer. “Thank you for your help today.”
He stared into my eyes, searching for something. “We still need to talk.”
“You’re right,” I said.
My hand came up, fingertips tracing the line of his cheek, his jaw, and down to his chest. The affection in his eyes burrowed under my skin, eliciting equal and opposite reactions. It felt like a hug, one of those strong squeezes that reassure you that everything will work out. But the hope—the expectation—there still made my body freeze, a mixture of fear and guilt preventing me from taking that step.
I took in a deep breath and let it gust out of me as I dropped my hand from his chest, where his heart was beating furiously in time with mine. “Okay, we’re going to Boston in a week, and I don’t want to complicate things,” I said. “It’s a chance for me to show Eduardo he made the right choice. Can we get through it and talk when we get back? Please?”
He searched my face again, like he was trying to decide if he could trust my reason for waiting. He nodded with a sad smile and gathered Paris up in his arms.
I stood on my front porch while he loaded up his daughter, eyes fixed on the place where his car had been long after he was gone.
Chapter 17
There was aclothing box on my desk Monday morning. I opened the top to see a small card that read simply:
GET READY,
BEN
Inside the box was a heavy fleece running shirt and matching ear warmer.
