Page 35 of Boss Me

I’d been as foolish about Ben as he’d been about that dog last night. I’d let him get close even though I knew we had no future together. I had no future with anyone. Better to be alone than to hurt someone I cared about.

I had to stop it, cold.

I ignored Ben’s knocks and his texts and his phone calls. When he called through the gate, I went inside. If I didn’t answer, he’d go away. He’d go home.

On the couch, I read the email from my financial adviser that summarized the stock sale. I checked my account balance. My foundation director would be thrilled. And each of the fifty or so women’s shelters in the Bay Area would receive a sizable but anonymous gift. They’d be ecstatic.

And how did I feel?

Empty.

I’d hoped to feel something. Relief that I was disentangling myself from Jackson at last. Regret that I’d broken my promise to my friend. Excitement about the possibility of doing something new, something I didn’t have to fight Weston for, something I didn’t feel I was forcing Jackson to do.

All I felt was tired.

So, like one of the island lizards, I took a nap on the couch under the sun shining warm through the windows.

Blasting rays against my closed eyelids woke me. Lowering toward the horizon, the sun shimmered on the ocean and on the pool and threw golden sparkles onto the living room ceiling. I sat up and rubbed my face.

I was less tired…and famished. My stomach growled.

But I couldn’t go to the bar or the restaurant. Ben would stalk me there. So I called room service.

Half an hour later, my doorbell buzzed, one short ring the way Ramón always did it. I padded to the door in my bare feet and swung it open. But it wasn’t Ramón.

It was Ben.

And he had Ramón’s cart.

“What did you do with Ramón?” was the smartest thing I could think of to say. I grimaced.

Ben nudged the cart across the threshold until I moved out of the way. “I think we should eat on the patio, don’t you? It’s a beautiful evening.”

“We?” I trailed him through the slider and out onto the deck.

He stopped the cart and whirled toward me, hands on his hips. “I brought you dinner.” He gestured at the cart. “The least you can do is share it with me.”

“Why are you still here?” Anyone else would have gone home. With no executive to support, Ben could play Animal Crossing all day at his desk. Or take a week off like I’d suggested. No one would question it.

“Really?” His jaw, clean-shaven again, jutted out. “You’ve come out here to rest and relax, but you don’t know how. I think it’s pretty evident that you’re depressed. You need someone to talk to. To make sure you eat. Maybe you don’t want that person to be me, but I’m all you’ve got right now.”

He turned toward the cart. With jerky movements, he flung a cloth over the patio table and skillfully but not quietly clattered the dishes and place settings on top.

Was I depressed? Maybe that explained the void inside me. I’d ask Dr. Pradhi about it next week.

While he wheeled the cart back inside, I checked out the table. There were platters of fish and vegetables. A bowl of salad and another bowl of a grain dish. It was exactly what I’d have eaten if I’d come to the island for one of my regular visits, nothing like the crap I’d been eating at the bar. There was even a small arrangement of native orchids. And a trio of candles in the center.

With the rosy sunset over the ocean turning the waves to molten gold, the rhythmic crashing of the waves on the beach, it all seemed so…romantic.

“What’s wrong?” Ben stepped out onto the patio.

“I feel underdressed.” I tried to put all my thanks, my apology into the quick smile I shot him.

He scanned my compression shirt and athletic shorts then cleared his throat. “You’re fine.” His voice came out husky, and despite the blazing sunset, goosebumps rose on my arms.

I rubbed them down. “Shall we eat?”

I didn’t know what made me do it, but I pulled out the nearest chair and waited for him to sit in it. Then I took the chair across the table.

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