“I think something real with Lacy would do you good,” Rob says. “And I’m not just saying that because Ella wants a girl to hang with on our nights out together,” he adds with a chuckle.
“Thanks, man. I appreciate the honesty.” Rob is right, I realize. Am I going to give up a relationship that could be life-changing just because I’m afraid to change myself? But do I still have a chance with Lacy? My heart beats slightly faster at the thought. If there’s still a chance, then I want to seize it.
“Then that leaves just one question,” Rob goes on with a sly smile, cutting into my whirring thoughts.
“What?”
“What are you going to do to get Lacy back?”
I stare at Rob, my brain drawing a blank.Shit. He’s right. I can’t just call her up out of the blue now or shoot her a text. For all I know, she’s blocked me anyway.
I fucked up. And it’s time to own up to that.
The question is, what can I do to win Lacy’s trust now?
How can I show her I’m truly ready for a change?
For something real? Withher?
Chapter Twenty-One
Lacy
WhenIhadthatlast drink with Lillian, I had been eager to sell Rose Manor.Good riddance. I can’t wait for dad to sell it.Those had been my words. But now, as I stand in front of Rose Manor for what I assume will be the last time, I’m questioning what I said. I survey the house quietly. The ‘For Sale’ sign out front has a giant yellow placard nailed over it with just one word on it, ‘Sold.’ It’s really done.
I give a heavy sigh as I size the place up. The summer is coming to an end, the best time of year here. The roses out front are in full bloom, probably the last bloom of the season. Their aromatic fragrance envelopes the entire house. The front steps that were in shambles when I arrived are fixed up. The siding is freshly painted, and the porch railing is intact again. Two rocking chairs have been placed on the front porch, part of the realtor’s ‘staging’ to draw in buyers. I smile and think back to the evening that Ben and I sat on the front steps, before Rose Manor was all neat and tidy, before there were rocking chairs. We had watched the fireflies come out that night. There had been something about that night… I remember how honest Ben had been with me. How he’d admitted that he’d never had a ‘big love’ kind of relationship. And how he’d told me I deserved that kind of relationship,You’re definitely worthy of a relationship that deserves a love song.
I open my eyes and blink back tears, gritting my teeth. Maybe it’s not Rose Manor I want to say ‘good riddance’ to. It’s Ben. Ben and all the memories he calls up now. Painful memories.
Well, the choice isn’t mine now. Rose Manor has sold, quickly. Even the realtor was surprised by how fast it went off the market. So now I have no choice but to say goodbye. I make my way up the front and trudge up the stairs. As I open the front door, I flash back to the day I walked in here and found Ben, in full-on hermit mode, playing at the piano. Shirtless, of course. With a smile, I remember how surprised I was, dropping all of my stuff, which Ben had promptly helped me pick up. He’d always been attentive in that way. That sensitive side of him was just under the surface, hidden under the rock star veneer.
I stroll throughout the house, now empty and echoing, listening to my footsteps. As I go from one room to the next, memories of Ben flood my brain. Here, in the living room, is where he offended my writing group. Here, in the kitchen, is where he made me enchiladas. And breakfast. Lots of pancakes. I remember being surprised by his domestic side and marveling at the fact that he was such a good cook—better than me. With a pang, I recall how he told me about his fond memories of the Thanksgiving we’d had as a family at Rose Manor. To me, it had just been another average Thanksgiving. You cooked and ate together. To Ben, it had been one of the brief moments of stability of his entire childhood.I’d never had a sit-down Thanksgiving meal that had been home cooked before.That’s what he’d said.
I bite my lip, holding back tears, as I finish my round of the house and return to the front hall. Well, it seems like Ben doesn’t want that kind of life after all. His fans and his fame matter more to him than those boring everyday things. Average, normal people things. Things like making pancakes in the kitchen together. Sitting on the porch and watching the fireflies. Things that I want in my life, I realize with a pang. I won’t get them at Rose Manor. That ship has sailed. But I can get those things somewhere, with someone else. One day. I’m not ready now.
I hesitate at the steps that lead down to Ben’s recording studio. Only it’s notBen’srecording studio anymore. After a moment, I decide not to go down. I don’t want to be flooded by the memories there. I don’t want to think about the kiss we shared there. I don’t want to think about Ben at all, any more, ever.
That chapter is closed, I decide firmly, and I need to stop torturing myself with these memories. It’s good that Rose Manor has sold, I realize. That will make it easier to move on. And it’s time to move on. It’s been a month. One month with no word from him.Time to go.
The realtor is meeting the buyer here later today to hand over the keys and take care of the last admin. I asked her if I could stop by today to take one last look at the place. She agreed and even said that I could join her for the handover and meet the new buyer. But I thought it would be too painful. I had been dismissive of Ben’s feelings about Rose Manor, assuming that he just liked the place so much since it was the only place of stability he had growing up. But I’d been wrong. There is something special about this place, something I hate letting go of now.
Suddenly, I hear the sound of tires on gravel outside. I glance at my phone. It’s still too early for the handover appointment. But the realtor is probably here early, wanting to make sure everything is in order. That’s my cue. I head for the front door. I’ll just say a quick hello to her and then be on my way. That’s the last I’ll ever see of Rose Manor.
I open the front door and step onto the porch, expecting to see the perky blonde realtor in her white BMW convertible. But instead, I see a black, sleek Mustang.What the…
Ben steps out of the car. “Lace!” He says, advancing toward me eagerly, a huge smile on his face. “I’m glad I caught you.”
“What are you doing here?” I ask dumbly. My heart is beating faster at the sight of Ben, but my brain is reeling with confusion. Why is he here? How did he know I would be here?
“I came to find you,” he replies, bounding up the front steps to me and meeting me on the front porch.
“To find me?” I echo like a robot, immediately cursing myself for sounding so stupid. I stare at him in shock as he walks up to me. He’s clad in ripped jeans and a black t-shirt, despite the hot summer day. He looks as sexy as ever, with his usual scruff and disheveled bedhead hair. But I can’t help noticing the dark rings under his eyes, as if he hasn’t been sleeping well.
“I came to tell you I’m sorry,” Ben says, breathless, stepping close to me. I can smell his familiar scent and I look away briefly, biting my lip, not wanting to get caught up in this, whatever this is. I want to be rational.
“It’s kind of late for sorry,” I say simply, looking back at Ben, whose eyes are boring into me.
He pauses, as if on the edge of revealing some great truth, and then grabs one my hands in his. “I- I don’t believe that, Lace.” A flush makes its way up his cheek, and his hand shakes a little as he holds mine. He’s nervous, I realize.