Page 15 of The Ex-Best Thing
Benny looks like he wants to say something, but the girl at the counter calls his name twice, and he leaves to pick up our lunches. I grab another handful of napkins and choose a table farthest away from the group who greeted Benny. They call him over, so I pull out my phone to look busy, clearing the new notifications while he chats with the group, holding two red and white gingham boats of food.
“She’s staying in Colby’s place,” I hear him say.
A guy responds too quietly for me to hear. The wind picks up, carrying their voices in the wrong direction.
“No, not too long,” Benny says. “Just being neighborly.”
There’s another comment and more laughter. Benny extracts himself from the group and joins me.
“They seemed curious,” I say.
He pushes a boat of food in front of me. “We get a lot of tourists around here in the summer. The locals see more strangers on a daily basis than other locals.”
My hand freezes halfway to my mouth with a fry. That’s not how the Benny of ten years ago made Bodega Bay sound. “You always described this place like a sleepy little town.”
“It is.”
“But?” I press.
“But we’re on Highway One.” He cringes. “People passthrough constantly. I should have picked up food and brought it back to you.”
Blonde hair flies in front of my face, and I drag it behind my ear. “Hey, as long as I don’t talk to them, I’m safe, right?”
“You’re pretty safe.” Benny eats a fry, sweeping his gaze over me in a way that makes my body hum.
I pour vinegar over the top of my fish and pinch off a bite. “So I guess you don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Not right now.” He laughs, popping another fry in his mouth. His eyes never leave my face. “Smooth.”
“I wouldn’t want to cause any issues,” I say, pretending it meant nothing I asked.
I guess I’m not really pretending. Itdidmean nothing. This man does not want me. He wants seclusion and a charming old house on the beach. He wants groups to greet him when he goes out for lunch but not swarm him or ask for ten million selfies. At least, I imagine that’s part of the appeal.
There’s a vast chasm between the lives we lead.
Benny was never comfortable with the mobs of girls who would wait outside for him everywhere he went. Now, he moves about freely. The group who’d spoken to him didn’t seem awed at all…they seemed like his friends.
“It must be nice not having to deal with fans all the time,” I say, feeling a weird urge in my stomach for that same freedom. I’ve never cared about the swarming fans before this week. It’s never mattered to me. I don’t mind signing things or taking selfies.
“It’s taken a while to get to this point. To be honest, I don’t go out a lot, especially in the summer. This is when we get the most tourist action, and some people still get excited when they recognize me. But I’ve been away from the spotlight for so long, my aged face isn’t as immediately recognizable.”
Aged? Like a fine wine, maybe.
A twinge of something flares within me at the thought ofbeing able to move at will. Is it jealousy? Do I want this sleepy Nor Cal life?
Weird. “You were smart to get out when you did.”
Benny’s self-effacing smile is brief.
“What have you been doing all these years?” I ask. “You said you had a work meeting yesterday.”
He looks down at his lunch. “Real estate.”
“Ah.” I nod. That explains why he’s home in the middle of the day. “Helping families find their forever home?”
“More like managing my personal portfolio.” He clears his throat and takes a swig of his water. “I’d ask what you’ve been up to, but I saw the ads from your sold-out tour last year.”
There’s nothing to say to this. He’s right. Music has been my life for the last few years, and with the reality shows my family is constantly putting out, I don’t have a lot of secrets.
