Page 62 of Dropping Like Flies

“Oh, you are, are you?” The smirk on his face as he chewed slowly showed it for the teasing it was. “What if I don’t want you to? What if I like my own space?”

I shook my head. “Not an option.”

“And why’s that?”

I helped myself to some noodles. “Because you haven’t fucked me yet. Because I’d miss you too much. Because…”

Ben’s expression turned serious. “You don’t have to overdo it. I know you’re sorry. I know that if you could turn the clock back, you’d make different decisions. It’s sorted. It’s in the past. We move on from it.”

“Just like that?”

He nodded. “Just like that.”

“In that case…” I stole the last piece of duck from the container and stuck it in my mouth, Ben’s expression changing to one of outrage. “Hey! Just so we’re clear. There are things I can’t forgive you for, and stealing my duck is one of them.”

“Our duck.”

“My duck.”

And then we were both laughing, any residual tension between us dissipating. “We should look for a place to live,” I said. “Somewhere different that will be a fresh start.”

“I’m not leaving my job.”

“I would never ask you to.”

“Good.” Ben chewed slowly while he contemplated what I’d said. “So we’re going to move in together again, are we?”

“Only if you want to… I assumed…” I trailed off. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have done. I can wait for however long it takes for you to feel comfortable with the idea.”

Ben lifted his head and subjected me to a searching look. “And what about the rest?”

“The rest?”

He toyed with the food on his plate for a few seconds. “We were engaged. We were halfway through planning a big wedding, remember?”

“Of course I remember.” The accusation that I might not stung. “I figured I’d have to work up to that point again.”

“What point?”

I suddenly felt like I was on a rollercoaster, the words lodging in my throat. “Asking you to marry me again.” The first time I’d pulled out all the stops, booking the entirety of Ben’s favorite restaurant, hiring a band to play romantic background music, and then getting down on one knee to offer the ring I’d agonized over buying. I had no idea how I was going to top that. “What did you do with the ring?”

Ben finished his mouthful of food before answering. “You really don’t want me to answer that question.”

“I do. I think we need to be honest with each other.”

“I threw it in a river. It seemed symbolic. Now… I wish I’d sold it.”

I winced. “Ouch!”

“I told you that you were better off not knowing.”

“I’ll buy another one.”

Ben shook his head. “It’s not about the ring. An engagement ring is a promise, not a piece of metal. It’s a statement of intent, a—”

“Detective Chief Inspector Ben Weaver, despite not deserving you in the slightest, will you marry me?” I slipped a noodle off my plate, bent it into a circle, and held it out on the palm of my hand.

Ben stared at it and for one painstaking moment, I thought I’d misread the situation completely, that he hadn’t meant that it was the engagement that mattered rather than how it happened. Then with a smile, he plucked the noodle from the palm of my hand and wrapped it around his finger. “Maybe I should have asked you. It was my turn.” He held his hand up, staring at the noodle like it really was gold rather than Chow Mein.

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