Anything But Love Page 7

  “I didn’t bring a suit. I bought this at the hotel boutique.”

  “You did?”

  He nodded. “I knew there was a dress code at this restaurant, and I didn’t want to embarrass you.”

  That was surprisingly sweet. “Well, you look very nice.”

  As she heard the words come out of her mouth, she winced a little. She sounded so . . . prim.

  “You look nice, too.”

  “Thanks.” She had put her accustomed armor back in place, in the form of a pink silk A-line Prada dress, a pair of Manolo Blahnik flats, and perfect hair and makeup. The French manicure she’d gotten for the wedding was still flawless, so her nails were perfect, too. She looked down at her hands now, her fingers tipped with those impeccable white crescents.

  “You know what?” Ben said. “I take it back.”

  His voice was different. Rougher. Startled, she looked up to meet his eyes.

  “You don’t look nice, Jess. You look incredible. Beautiful. Stunning, even.”

  Her heart beat faster. Was that the reason for the sudden warmth heating her cheeks, or were her two martinis finally kicking in?

  She didn’t know what to say. Before she could say anything, their waiter came to the table and took their dinner order. After he was gone, Ben leaned forward again.

  “In case you’re worried, I’m not coming on to you. I’m just being honest.” He paused for a moment. “After you shut me down this afternoon, I figured I wouldn’t push you. But when I thought more about it, I realized something. I realized that I might be the only person in your life willing to be honest with you right now—and who you can be honest with.”

  A spasm of anxiety tightened her belly, and she tried to lighten the mood. “Come on, Ben—we haven’t even had appetizers yet. It’s too early in the evening to be this intense.”

  He smiled a little. “We don’t have to be intense—just honest. And if that’s not something you want, okay. If you don’t like my proposal, I’ll get on a plane and out of your hair.”

  She reached for a roll, trying to conceal how much she didn’t like that idea. “You have a proposal, huh? What is it?”

  “That you think of this trip as a safe space. What happens in Bermuda stays in Bermuda.”

  “That’s what you said on the plane. That I could say anything to you and it wouldn’t matter. That I could tell the truth without repercussions.”

  “Exactly. If you’re willing to do that . . . to tell me what you really think about things, to try to be honest for the next ten days . . . then I’ll stay. But I’m not up for a week of small talk and polite lies.”

  She felt frustration rising. “So all I have to do is tell you what I really think. But what if I don’t want to talk about whatever it is you want to talk about? What if that’s what I really think? You’re making it sound like if I don’t say what you want to hear, you’re just going to pack up and leave. That’s not fair.”

  He shook his head. “That’s not what I’m saying. I just want our conversations to be real.”

  “What does that mean? Give me an example.”

  “Why did you stop being friends with me after eighth grade?”

  She stared at him. “So being real means digging up the past?”

  “Among other things, yeah. But I’ve wanted to ask you that question for fifteen years, and it seems like this is my chance.”

  As she locked eyes with Ben, she flashed back to their younger selves. Her: overweight and insecure and damaged in ways Ben didn’t know anything about. Him: good-looking and athletic and rebellious . . . and one of her best friends.

  Until he wasn’t.

  Did she want to talk about this? Could she talk about this?

  She didn’t have to. She could get up and leave right now. She could go back to the suite and order room service, and Ben, as true to his word as she was sure he would be, would pack up his things and head back to New York.

  She took a deep breath. “There were a lot of reasons.”

  “Give me one.”

  She looked down at the roll she’d buttered so carefully. “I’d lost all that weight, and I was starting high school. I was tired of being a loser, and I wanted things to be different. I wanted to be popular. I know that never mattered to you, but it mattered to me. And it seemed like the best way to get there was to turn my back on the past.”

  She couldn’t tell him everything she’d turned her back on. She could never tell him the whole truth. But this was part of the truth, and she hoped it would be enough.

  It was all so long ago. It seemed silly that they were even talking about this, and yet . . .

  Ben had wanted to ask her this question for fifteen years. When she thought about that, she realized there was something she’d wanted to say to him for fifteen years, too.

  “I’m sorry,” she said suddenly.

  “Sorry for what?” Ben asked, sounding genuinely surprised.

  Somehow, that made her feel a little bit braver. Ben didn’t expect anything from her; he wasn’t demanding anything of her. He’d just wanted to know what had happened between them so long ago. He’d lost a friend back in junior high, and he’d never understood why.

  She couldn’t tell him all the reasons why. But she could at least apologize.

  “I’m sorry I pushed you away back then. I’m sorry we stopped being friends.”

  The waiter arrived with their first course, and for a moment they focused on eating. Then:

  “I’m sorry, too,” Ben said.

  She finished a bite of her salad. “Sorry for what?”

  “Sorry I didn’t fight for our friendship. I could have tried to talk to you about it, but I was too proud.”

  “I don’t blame you for that,” she said, surprised that he would blame himself. “And anyway,” she added wryly, “I wouldn’t have listened to you. I’d made my decision, and nothing would have changed my mind.”

  Ben looked thoughtful. “You changed so much that year. It was like you wanted to be a different person.”

  She had wanted to be a different person. She’d done everything she could to bury her old life and reinvent herself as someone new.

  Someone untouchable. Invulnerable. Safe.

  And if that had meant severing ties with the person who’d been her friend through thick and thin—the boy who’d had her back when the other kids taunted her—well, that had been a price she was willing to pay.

  But the same dark secret that made her willing to pay that price was the same secret she couldn’t share—not then and not now. Because of that, she could never be completely honest with Ben.

  But she could give him as much truth as she was capable of.

  “I hated myself when I was fat. When my parents sent me to that camp and I finally lost the weight, all I wanted to do was forget the person I’d been. And once I started it was hard to stop.”

  “Started?”

  “With the new crowd. With the whole popularity thing. It kind of sucks you in, I guess.”

  “Like the Mafia?”

  She smiled down at her salad. “Sort of.”

  “I hated the people you hung out with in high school.”

  She looked up again, raising one eyebrow. “Really? I never would have guessed.”

  “Yeah, I know I wasn’t subtle. But you made some good friends in college. Your roommates, what were their names? Kate and Sharon?”

  “Kate and Simone.”

  “Right. I met them a few times, when you brought them to your parents’ parties.”

  “Back in the day when Amelia could still drag you to those?”

  He smiled. “Yeah. Anyway, they seemed nice.”

  “They were. They are.”

  Jessica felt a familiar pang. She’d always felt at a disadvantage with her two college roommates. On some level, she believed they were too good for her—although not in the way that her mother and her friends thought of themselves as “too good” for people. Kate and Simone were good in a deeper sen
se: principled, generous, honest, brave.

  Kind of like Ben.

  A wave of depression went through her. She could feel the weight of all the good people she didn’t deserve—Kate, Simone, Ben, Tom. People who knew who they were or who had the courage to try and find out.

  “What’s wrong?” Ben asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You looked sad just then. What were you thinking about?”

  Ben’s eyes were warm as he looked at her. Interested.

  This was the way he’d looked at her on the plane, and at the wedding reception. He wasn’t asking questions just to make conversation.

  He really wanted to know the answers.

  And he’d promised her that what was said in Bermuda would stay in Bermuda. So why not talk about what she was thinking? What she was feeling?

  Maybe it was the alcohol in her system, but she was starting to think it might not be such a terrible idea after all.

  “You know what you said before? That I need to figure out who I am?”

  He nodded.

  She took a deep breath. “I’m afraid there is no me.”

  Ben stopped with his fork halfway to his mouth. Then he set the fork back down on his plate. “What are you talking about?”

  “If you spend enough time being someone you’re not, you lose who you are.” She groped for words to explain. “I’m afraid that if I go looking for who I am, there won’t be anything there to find.”

  She’d half expected Ben to be horrified at her admission. Of all the people she’d known in her life, he was the least likely to lose touch with who he was.

  But he didn’t look horrified.

  One of her hands was clenched in her lap; the other was on the table. Ben reached out and covered that hand with his.

  “So figure it out now.”

  She thought about pulling her hand away, but the truth was, another person’s touch was comforting.

  No—not just another person’s touch.

  Ben’s touch.

  But that didn’t change the fact that she couldn’t do what he wanted her to do.

  “It’s too late,” she said.

  “I don’t believe that. I’m not a big believer in fate, but maybe that’s why we ended up on this trip together.”

  She frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I knew you when you were a kid. When you did things because you wanted to.” He paused. “When you had that Backstreet Boys poster, for example.”

  That made her smile. “I don’t like the Backstreet Boys anymore. Remember?”

  “Thank God. But remembering what you used to like is just a start. We’ll also figure out what you enjoy now.”

  “We will? How?”

  “We’ll experiment.”

  The grin he gave her was probably perfectly innocent, but Jessica felt a quick rush of electricity. The words we’ll experiment, spoken in Ben’s smooth baritone voice, took on a double meaning.

  But that was only in her head. Ben had made it clear he wasn’t coming on to her. He’d said so.

  The waiter came by to clear their salads and deliver the main course, and once again their attention turned to food.

  “How’s your fish?” Ben asked after a moment, and she glanced up at him.

  “I thought we weren’t allowed to make small talk.”

  “I didn’t mean we couldn’t make any small talk. I just don’t want our conversation to be all small talk.”

  “Ah. Well, in that case, my fish is wonderful. How’s your steak?”

  “Also wonderful.”

  “And how is—”

  The sound of a ringtone interrupted her, and Ben frowned. “Sorry,” he said, reaching into his breast pocket and pulling out his phone. “Let me—” He glanced at the screen and his expression changed. “Damn. Do you mind if I answer this? I won’t be long.”

  “Of course. Go ahead.”

  He hit Accept. “Jamal? I’m so sorry.” He listened for a minute. “Yeah, I know, but I have a really good excuse. I’m in Bermuda.” The person on the other end spoke again, and Ben’s eyes met hers for a moment. “A friend,” he said. “I’ll give you the whole story soon, okay? Good luck tonight, and I’m sorry I can’t be there.”

  Jessica felt a rush of guilt as he slid the phone back into his pocket. “You’re missing something. What is it?”

  “A friend of mine is reading at a poetry slam.”

  She blinked. “A poetry slam? Really? I didn’t think people actually did those.”

  He took a bite of steak. “Most people shouldn’t. But Jamal is an English teacher and a great writer. He’ll do a great job.”

  “I’m sorry you can’t be there. Are you missing anything else because of me?”

  Ben finished his bite before he spoke. “Nothing important. But if I were, it would be my choice. It was my idea to come with you on this trip.” He smiled at her. “And I’m really glad I did.”

  That was nice.

  She smiled back at him. “So your friend is an English teacher, huh? At your school?”

  “Yes.”

  “I heard that you won a Teacher of the Year award a couple of years ago. Was it at that school? How long have you taught there?”

  “Five years.”

  “And you teach math?”

  “Math and computer science.” He hesitated. “Actually, I’m taking a new job this fall.”

  “You are? At a different school?”

  “Yeah.” He hesitated again. “It’s in Chicago, actually.”

  She stared at him. “Chicago? You mean . . . you’re leaving New York?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  Ben wasn’t part of her life and hadn’t been for a long time. So why did she feel so dismayed at this news?

  “Well,” she said after a moment. “A lot of people will miss you. What’s in Chicago?”

  “An experiment. Someone I met in college is starting an inner-city program for at-risk kids that could be a template for urban school districts around the country. She offered me a chance to be a part of it, and I said yes.”

  “Oh.” She paused. “That sounds exciting. But won’t you miss your friends and family?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, of course. But sometimes it’s good to start something new.” He took his last bite of steak and sat back in his chair. “That’s what you have a chance to do, Jess. Start a new chapter in your life.”

  The waiter came to clear their dishes and offer dessert menus. Ben took one but Jessica shook her head, and he looked at her quizzically.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to look? You’re on vacation, after all.”

  “I know, but I don’t eat dessert.”

  “Sure you do. Or you did, anyway. Why did you stop?”

  She frowned. “Come on, Ben. You know why.”

  “Because of your weight?”

  She shrugged. “It’s not just about appearance,” she said. “It’s also about health. I wasn’t at a healthy weight in junior high. I don’t want to go back to that.” She paused. “Anyway, I’ve been on a diet for fifteen years. I’m used to it.”

  Ben was quiet for a moment, glancing over the menu before meeting her eyes again. “How about this. I’ll order dessert, and you can have a bite if you want one.”

  That sounded doable—and tempting. “What dessert would you pick?”

  He grinned and held out the menu. “They all look good to me. What looks good to you?”

  She took the menu from him and ran her eyes down the listings. Apple tart, flourless chocolate cake, bread pudding—

  Hot fudge sundae.

  “Okay, I can tell by the look in your eyes that you’ve found it. Which one?”

  He could read her that easily?

  She frowned at him over the top of the menu. “The hot fudge sundae, if you must know.”

  Ben looked delighted, which was kind of sweet. “You used to love ice cream, so that makes sense. Let’s order it.”

  “But I’m only goi
ng to have one bite.”

  “One perfect, delectable bite.” He called the waiter over and placed their order—a hot fudge sundae and two cocktails. Then he sat back and looked at her.

  “What do you want to do after dinner?”

  She sighed. “I was going to start on the notes to all the people who sent wedding gifts so I have them ready when I get back to New York. I brought the stationery with me.”

  “No way.”

  She blinked. “I’m sorry?”

  “I’m not kidding. I’ll burn that stationery if I have to, but I’m not letting you do anything wedding-related on this trip. I didn’t ask what you should do after dinner. I asked what you want to do. If you were here to have fun, what would you do?”

  She looked out the window at the dark night. Clouds had rolled in since that afternoon, covering the moon and stars, but she could see lanterns twinkling along the path that led down to the ocean.

  “Take a walk on the beach, I guess.”

  “Okay, then. That’s what we’ll do.”

  “But all those gifts—”

  “Can wait. What’s going to happen if you wait ten days to write those notes?”

  She thought about it. “Nothing, I guess. But I hate thinking of it hanging over me.”

  “So don’t think about it. Forget about it until you get back. Better yet, when you get back, ask your sister to deal with it. She’s your maid of honor.”

  “I couldn’t do that.”

  “Sure you could. But you can figure that out when you’re home. For now, you’re on vacation in Bermuda with a hot fudge sundae and a dark and stormy on the way.”

  “That reminds me. What’s a dark and stormy, and why did you order me one?”

  “It’s rum and ginger beer, and I ordered it for you because that’s one of the drinks Bermuda is famous for.” He looked up as the waiter arrived, setting their cocktails in front of them. “If you don’t like it, I’ll drink it.”

  She lifted the heavy crystal glass and took a hesitant sip.

  “Okay, it’s good.”

  “Perfect,” Ben said as the waiter set down their ice cream. “And since we already know you like hot fudge sundaes, I think our project is off to a pretty good start.”

  “Project? What project?”

  “The Finding Out What Jessica Likes and Getting Her to Do Those Things project.”