There’s a not-so-soft knock at the door, and it opens even before I respond.
It’s Ben. “Hey.”
“Hey!” I say back. “Come on in!”
But, of course, he’s already inside, flopping down on my bed. “Thought I’d see if you need any help.”
I lift an eyebrow, and he looks sheepish. “I know. The offer’s a little late. It’s just…moving sucks, you know?”
It’s a cop-out, and we both know it, but since I haven’t exactly been myself lately, either, I let it go. I’m just glad that he’s here, and that things seem…well, not quite normal, but at least we’re talking.
“So what can I do?” he asks.
I point at the closet. “Finish packing my shoes? Lori started a box, but I swear it took her five minutes to place each pair just right—”
I watch as Ben scoops up an armful of shoes and dumps them unceremoniously into a box.
“I see that’s not going to be a problem with you,” I say dryly.
He grins, then repeats the motion. “How many shoes do you have, woman?”
“The fact that you added woman to the end of that sentence tells you all you need to know. A lot.”
“I hope Lance is prepared to clear out eighty percent of his closet,” Ben says, holding up a pink wedge and looking at it skeptically before throwing—yes, throwing—it into the box as well.
It’s the first time since I told him that I was moving in with Lance that Ben’s even mentioned my boyfriend’s name.
And yes, Lance is my boyfriend again. Not that we’ve, um, consummated that status, but I’m moving in with the guy. Of course he’s my boyfriend.
Still, I’d avoided having Lance come by the house as much as possible. The thought of seeing him and Ben in the same room is just too much.
“So, how happy are you to have a bathroom all to yourself?” I ask, my voice determinedly chipper. “All that hot water. Oh, and you’ll have complete control of the remote. And your beer won’t have to share the fridge with my champagne. And there won’t be any long dark hair clogging the shower drain, and—”
To my utter horror, my voice breaks then, and I realize that I can’t even see the necklaces I’ve been trying to untangle for the past two minutes because my eyes are so filled with tears.
“Hey, now,” Ben says, his voice panicked as he scoots my way and sinks to the floor next to me, popping a bunch of Bubble Wrap in the process. “What’s this?”
His finger catches a tear, and that makes me cry all the harder.
“I don’t know,” I say, my voice all hiccupy. “I just…I think…I don’t…”
He gently presses the backs of his fingers against my cheek. “I’ll miss you too, Parks.”
I look at him through my blurry vision. “I bought you some new bath towels. Lots of them. And I washed them all and put them under the sink in the bathroom so you’ll have a long supply of fresh ones. And I’ll call you every day to remind you not to—”
He puts a hand over my mouth. “Parker. Get it together, babe. You’re moving about five minutes away. It’s not like we’re never going to see each other again.”
“I know.” I wipe my runny nose with the back of my hand. “But it’ll be different. Won’t it?”
Ben has his knees pulled to his chest, his arms looped around his legs, and he looks down at his hands. “Yeah. It’ll be different.”
It’s not what I want him to say, and I cry harder before launching myself at him awkwardly, my arms wrapped tightly around his neck.
He tenses for a second, but then one arm goes around my back, the other into my hair. “You and your crying.”
“I know,” I whisper against his neck. “I’m a wreck.”
Being held by him feels right, and for the millionth time since I agreed to move in with Lance, I wonder if I’m doing the right thing.