Page 51 of The Ex-Best Thing
“I was thinking I’d rather stay in and watch a movie. If you’re up for it, we could have a marathon. I heard you’re a fan ofThe Birds.”
Nancy chuckles, patting the back of my hand. “Go to the meeting tonight. It’s more fun than it sounds. You don’t want to spend all your time with this old lady.”
Actually, I do. I really, really do. “Will you come, too?”
Her hand retreats, finding comfort in her lap. “I don’t attend those anymore. But Benny would like the company.”
I unwrap the banana and take a bite.
“Should I fetch your phone?”
My heart rate skyrockets. “Not yet.”
“Bree—”
“Yes, I know. You made valid arguments, but I need to be ready to open that door. I need time to process everything you said before I can jump into it.”
She looks disappointed, but I can’t change who I am.
“You’ll feel better.”
“I’m sure you’re right, so let’s make a deal. I’ll go tonight if Benny’s interested in taking me. Then, when I get home and I’m alone and I’ve had the whole day to come to terms with things,thenI’ll send a group message to my family. That gives me time to compose something.”
“That’s fair. Will you let me know when you’re finished? We call that accountability, honey.”
Every time she calls mehoney, I feel the inordinate drive to make her proud.
A knock on the door gathers both of our attention.
“Well, I wonder who that could be,” Nancy singsongs in a way that means she knows exactly who it is.
“Did you invite Benny over?”
“No, but I thought it was only a matter of time until he showed up.”
I run my fingers through my damp hair while I make my way toward the door. When I peek through the peephole, I find him rocking back on his heels, hands in his pockets, attention drifting to the window beside the door. His dark hair isbrushed messily to the side, like he’s run his hands through it countless times, and there’s a resigned look on his stupid-handsome face.
Why does he have to look so good all the dang time? Why can’t I have a break from wanting to frame his perfect cheekbones in my hands and gaze into the deep blue oceans that make up his eyes?
“You planning on letting him in?” Nancy asks, making me startle and smack my forehead on the door.
“No,” I say belligerently, as I unlock the deadbolt.
Her smile is sassy and smug.
“Hey.” I paste on a breezy smile when I swing the door open. It falters when Benny’s gaze jumps to my forehead, where a red spot is no doubt forming as we speak.
“What happened?”
“Nothing. Want to come in?”
His eyes narrow over my shoulder. “Grandma.”
“I made blueberry muffins,” she sings, heading back to the dining room. “And eggs.”
We follow her. Benny’s hands are still in his pockets. He’s in tan shorts and a blue T-shirt that’s telling me to Protect the Bay with an open button-down over it. I watch the muscles on his back shift as he walks, because his shirts are tight enough to make them obvious.
It’s pure curiosity that makes me want to run my fingers over his back. Nothing more. Just me wondering how different this would feel from the kid who used to hold me when I was feeling lonely or needed a hug after a long day.
