Page 41 of If It Can't Be Us

“Yep. It was Chloe’s favorite show. We binge-watched it over and over when she was sick, during her chemo treatments. After she died, I’d fall asleep to it every night. I did for years. Still do sometimes…” His hand lowers from my back to my side, then to my stomach. “Makes me feel like there’s a part of her still here.”

A wave of tenderness washes over me. The idea of him finding solace in something so simple, something so tied to his sister, tugs at my heart. It’s strange how the things we cling to for comfort can become a lifeline. I press myself closer to him, wanting to offer some of the solace he’s given me tonight.

I think of my own lifelines, the things I hold onto that remind me of Ben. Our high school yearbooks,Easy A,our shared love forTed Lasso.Every time I watch an episode, I feel his presence, like he’s sitting beside me, laughing at the same jokes.

His hand slips under my sweatshirt, and he delicately strokes the skin below my belly button. My breath catches, and I begin to crave his touches…more,I silently plead.More.Anticipation builds as he moves his fingers along my side, dragging them along each curve until his finger meets the side of my breast, where I am bare and braless. I suck in a breath, a fire building inside me. He pauses, seemingly surprised to find me without a bra, then slowly, softly traces the underside of my breast before working his way back down to the side of my waist. He splays his hand open and rests it there.

I can’t think straight. His touch is electrifying, brewing butterflies in my stomach and stirring a desire I can barely contain. I inhale slowly, willing my heart to slow down so I can think of a question to ask him, anything to bring me back down to earth.

“You said you’ve been in love before?” I phrase it more as a question than a statement.

“Hmm,” he responds, a noise reverberating from his chest instead of a word.

“Tell me about it,” I say, deciding to play his little game. I slip my fingers partially under his shirt where it meets the waistband of his pants. He tenses, his muscles flexing as I tease him with my fingers. Brushing them ever so lightly over his chiseled abs,Jesus.I slow to appreciate the V along his hip, running the indent with my thumb. The heat of his skin beneath my fingers sends a rush through me. I can feel his heartbeat quicken, matching the rhythm of my own.

He relaxes slightly. “Not much to tell. I let myself fall in love, even had a ring. I was going to ask her to marry me. Then I found out she had been unfaithful… for a long time. She’d been cheating on me for over a year with multiple men. I don’t know how I was so blind to it. I think I knew, I just didn’t want to believe it—I was in denial.”

“God, that’s awful. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well, apparently I wasn’t cutting it. She needed a whole bloody team.”

“Is that why you don’t date?” I ask.

He chuckles quietly. “It’s on the ever-growing list of reasons.”

I continue with my strokes, running a finger along the inside of his waistband, triggering sudden movement from within his joggers. I smile to myself, pleased. He shifts, simultaneously removing his hand and pulling my sweatshirt down to cover my stomach. Grabbing my hand from inside his shirt, he intertwines his fingers with mine, putting them in a timeout from exploration. He holds my hand against his ribcage as if it’s his lifeline, keeping him from doing the things I know he wants to do.

Damn.

But then I remember him saying that he would always want to have a go with me, but that we would never be more than friends. I scowl in frustration.

“Tell me something else,” he says.

“Ask me a question,” I offer.

“Just tell me something. Anything to get my mind somewhere else.” His confession turns me on all the more.

“Okay, let’s see… oh! I just booked a flight to Paris for April,” I say. “It’s on my list of things I want to do before I’m thirty. I haven’t been yet, and since I turn thirty in June, I decided to treat myself to an early birthday present!” I’m really excited about this. I just booked the flight a few days ago after both my mom and Sarah encouraged me to do so. It was something I always planned to do with Ben, but with him not being here, I decided it was something that I could do for me anyway. The decision feels liberating, like a step towards reclaiming my life and dreams.

“You’re going alone?”

“Going solo,” I say, trying not to focus on Leo’s thumb caressing my hand as I speak.

“Let me take you.”

I give him a curious look, taken aback by his offer.

“C’mon, Paris is magical and meant to be shared with someone.” He pauses, searching my eyes for a reaction. “We used to spend our summers there with our au pair. I speak French fluently, and I’d love to take you, show you the city the way it’s truly meant to be seen. But I know it’ssomething you and Ben had planned, and I understand if you’d rather do it on your own.”

A travel buddy…

I could think of a worse travel buddy.

“You had an au pair growing up?” I ask.

“Out of all that, that’s what you want to know? Yes, we had an au pair, my dad worked a lot and needed help.”

“Where was your mom? Were they divorced?” I can’t believe I don’t know anything about his mom, but he’s changed the subject almost every time I’ve asked about his family.

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