Page 74 of Love in Fine Print

“No, it’s fine. It’s my mother. She only calls or shows up when she wants something or if she feels guilty about something she’s done. I don’t have the energy to deal with either scenario.”

He nodded. “Is that why she called after the wedding? Because she felt bad about not being there?”

My shoulder lifted in a shrug. “Probably.”

“Were you upset she wasn’t there?”

“Were you upset your father wasn’t there?” I automatically responded. I hadn’t meant to. It was just the knee-jerk defensive reaction I had when anyone asked about my mother.

“Yeah, actually.” Ben took a deep breath. “I know it sounds stupid because he never showed up for anything, not graduations, or parent-teacher nights, or plays, or football games…I should have known he wouldn’t be there. But, yeah, I was disappointed.”

Ben’s vulnerability should not have turned me on but it did. The only thing stopping me from jumping on him was how shitty I felt for snapping at him when it was clearly a sensitive topic. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. It’s not your fault.”

“I was apologizing for snapping at you. I get defensive when it comes to my mom. She’s always been…I don’t know. She hasissues and I have issues when it comes to her. But, no, I’m glad she didn’t come. She has a way of making everything about her and it would have been a lot for me to deal with.”

He nodded.

“But I am sorry that your dad didn’t show up. Not just for the wedding but all the times he wasn’t there.”

A lopsided grin pulled at his lips and the look in his eyes broke my heart wide open.

“Have you talked to him?”

“Just email. I thought he would show up for Gran’s remembrance service, but he didn’t. I don’t have his phone number or even know where he lives.”

“Do you want to know where he lives?”

He shrugged, and I could see the pain in his eyes. All the years of rejection from the time he was a kid were just below the surface. I might not be able to take that pain away, but I could at least find out where the asshole lived.

I knew I should keep my distance, not just physically but emotionally as well, but in that moment, I couldn’t. Unable to stop myself, I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around Ben’s neck. He froze for a moment before snaking his arms around me and hugging me tightly. This was the only physical contact we’d had, besides our wedding night, that wasn’t in front of other people for show.

His hold tightened around my waist as he buried his face in the crook of my neck. Being in his arms, feeling the heat of his breath on me, was sending all sorts of signals to my brain that were damn near impossible to ignore. Signals that said I needed to do more than hug Ben, I needed to kiss his pain away. I wanted him to feel cared for, to feel supported, to feel loved. I wanted to show him that I was there for him. That I would show up for him.

Before I had a chance to act on the crazy impulses rioting through me, Ben stepped out of my embrace and yelled, “Dolly no!”

I turned around and saw that Dolly had taken advantage of our distraction and was standing with her front paws on the counter about to help herself to our roast dinner.

He managed to grab her collar seconds before her teeth sank into the meat. Unfortunately, when he did, he tripped over her. As he tried to regain his balance, he knocked the handle of the pan of gravy, sending it flying into the air as he landed on his backside on the kitchen floor. The entire thing only lasted a few seconds, but it felt like it had been in slow motion.

“Are you okay?” I asked as I rushed to his side.

“Yeah, no broken bones.”

Dolly checked on him, too…by licking the gravy off his face.

We looked at each other and at her and both busted out laughing. I helped him up, and we continued laughing as I cleaned the gravy that had splattered on the wall, fridge, and floor, and he heated up more.

Every time I got myself under control, the vision of his arms flailing in the air popped back in my head, and I started cracking up again.

By the time we sat at the table, my stomach was sore from laughing. He poured me a glass of wine as I filled our plates, and I had to remind myself this wasn’t real. We weren’t a happy couple. This was fake. This was an arrangement. This was not real.

No matter how real it felt.

32

BEN

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