Page 68 of I Do With You

Sean’s fork freezes halfway to his mouth, and he pins me with a curious scowl. “Everything you could ask—what’s his body count, how psychotic was his last ex, what’s his kryptonite in a woman, how you can lock him down, or any number of things like that—and you ask if me and him are cool?”

I copy one of his moves and shrug, trying to make it seem like no big deal. The truth is, I didn’t think of all those questions, but now that he’s mentioned them, I really want to know the answer to them. But I asked the highest-priority question first because I know how important Sean is to Ben. “Fighting with you is tearing him up. I don’t like that.”

He snorts a laugh. “Youdon’t like it? How do you think we feel?”

“I don’t know. How do you feel about it? You don’t seem to care that much. Laughing, calling him names, and giving him a hard time so that he instantly puts up walls he’d taken down.” I thread as much disdain in the accusations as I can. It’s still weak, considering my opponent, but the learning curve from Nice Girl to Boss Bitch is steep.

Sean takes a bite of eggs and, while not answering my real question at all, explains, “That’s how we show affection. You got brothers or anything?”

I nod. “Yeah, and he plays hockey. I know about guys being mean as a supposed form of affection.”

Something in what I said changes Sean’s mood in an instant, from jovial shit-stirrer to stormy-eyed defense. “Somebody been mean to you?”

“Not likethat,” I rush to explain because I get the feeling that while Ben might punch Roy, Sean might put him six feet under with zero regret. “My fiancé—um,ex-fiancé—wasn’t abusive. He’s just an asshole I stayed small and quiet and compliant for, for way too long. I’m doing better now, slowly but surely,” I inform him proudly, sitting up straighter. If my hands weren’t full of my box of food, I’d pat myself on the back for all the growth I’ve made in such a short period of time.

“Ben told me about your ex. Well, that you bailed at the altar, leaving him in the dust. Pretty cold, if you ask me.” He doesn’t smile, doesn’t blink, doesn’t even take a pointed breath, but it feels like he’s testing me.

Not that I care about his tests or what he thinks about Roy, but I do care what he thinks about me and Ben.

“It was warranted, as repeatedly evidenced since then. I’ve told him to leave me alone several different ways, from sweet and gentle to outright bitchy and rude, but like a roach, he keeps coming back. Whiny here, bossy there, manipulative always. He’ll probably survive a nuclear attack and then bring roses to my burned-up corpse. I hate roses!” I crinkle my nose, both at the scent of the flowers and the idea of Roy visiting my dead body. “If that makes me cold, then call me Olaf.”

Sean chokes on his bite—of toast, I think. “Olaf? Figured you for an Elsa type,” he sputters, shaking his head. I think his smile is of actual amusement, with no overlay of sarcasm or acid. That might be a first for him, ever.

“Cold. Snowman. Olaf,” I explain my train of thought. “Elsa’d work, too, but—” I shrug, not really knowing why I chose the goofy snowman side character over the Ice Queen. Maybe because I don’t feel like I deserve a tiara—not yet. I’m too new in my growth journey.

But also ... Sean knowsFrozen? I don’t know why, but that makes him a little less terrifying. You can’t be all bad and sing “Let It Go” at the top of your lungs, and everyone who watches that movie sings along.

“So you’re done with the fiancé and hooking up with Ben now? That right?” It’s a subject change, but also, somehow not. This is what he’s been building to for the entire time we’ve been talking. He said he wanted me to ask him questions, but it feels like this is Ben’s best friend asking,What are your intentions?more than anything else. I can appreciate that he’s protective, especially given their recent difficulties with one another.

“We’re not casually hooking up and he’s not a rebound, though my sister called him that. I wasn’t looking for him, that’s for sure, but something clicked between us. I can’t explain it because I’ve never felt it before. But I do ... with Ben.” I think I did a pretty good job not using theLword in my answer. I haven’t told Ben that yet, and I’m not telling his friend first.

“You know about his past? His mom?” Sean asks. When I nod, not intending to share what Ben said with anyone, even his person, Sean seems to have a deeper respect for me. “Legal troubles and why she’s a bitch?” he clarifies.

“Yes and yes.”

He leans forward and coldly accuses, “You’re just like her—broken. And Ben’s running around trying his damnedest to get your attention, save you from your own bad decisions, and be the person who rights your fucked-up ship.”

Blinking in shock, I ask, “What? I’m nothing like his mom.” Sean raises his left brow, making the tattoo there move. Does that sayDestroy? I think it does. “I don’t need saving. If anything, I’m better now thanI’ve ever been. And getting better every day. I’m growing, improving myself while he cheers me on. There’s a biiig difference there.”

“You saying you’re better than her?”

Normally, I wouldn’t say I’m better than anyone, but this situation is different. Iambetter than Ben’s mom. I’m sure of it, though I’ve never met the woman and only know what he’s shared. “Yes, I am. I would never choose a man over my child. I would never leave him to homelessness and hunger. I would take care of him. Any child of mine would always be my first priority.”

Sean seems to be considering my answer. “What about Ben? Imaginary child aside, would you choose him over everything else? No matter what?”

It’s ridiculous to say yes. It’s been a few long, intense days, but the truth is ... I would. I asked about visiting California, but when Ben was arrested and when I missed him last night, I was thinking about moving there, about creating a life together, wondering if I’d fit into the life he has there already and if he’d even want that.

I swallow thickly—not on Rosemary’s impeccable french toast, but on the lump of emotion in my throat—as I nod.

“Would you say you’re a trustworthy person?”

I frown, feeling like Sean’s leading me not to water, but to my own destruction. Still, I nod.

One of his acidic smirks stretches across his mouth, and he says, “We’ll see.” He pulls his phone from his pocket and clicks around for a second. I have no idea what he’s doing, but then he hands the phone to me and I see it’s a YouTube video.

It’s probably something disgusting or pornographic or stupid. Any of those would seem right up Sean’s alley.

“Hit play.” His right brow raises as he watches me look back and forth between him and the phone.

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