Page 6 of One Weekend in Perth

Clara nodded. “Reed said he’d handle everything. He also said he supports you one hundred percent and knows you wouldn’t have left if you didn’t have a damned good reason. All he asked was that you check in with him every now and then and let him know you’re doing okay.”

It wasn’t fair that Reed would take all of the backlash from his actions, but right now he didn’t care, which was an awful thing to feel, but he couldn’t help it.

How would Fern react when she heard the news? Although she might already have an inkling that something was wrong because of the fact that he wasn’t where he was supposed to be.

Would she feel any remorse?

Would she figure out that he found out about her duplicity?

Would she be acting like a distraught bride? Knowing Fern, that was how she’d play it. No way would she want anyone to know she was the reason Ben walked out. She would do everything in her power to make it seem that he was the one who did her wrong. He supposed in a way he had, but he wasn’t the one who was cheating.

He embraced another surge of rage. The more he accepted it the more he could let it flow and then deal with the way everything was falling apart around him. For half a heartbeat he wanted to grab Clara’s phone and call his brother back to find out how she reacted, but, even through his anger, he knew it wasn’t a good idea.

“Ben, talk to me. Tell me what’s really going on. I can see you’re angry. I don’t blame you, I’d be the same if I found out my fiancé had been cheating on me.”

Ben surged to his feet and paced around the small room. “She didn’t care. She was going to go ahead with the wedding because ‘daddy approved of me’. She didn’t love me. She loved the guy she was fucking.”

“Oh Bento, I’m so sorry.”

He whirled around, his fists clenched at his sides. “I don’t want your fucking pity, Clara!”

Clara took a step back from him, her eyes wide with shock and … fear.

Fuck, it’s not her fault, and I’m scaring her. Being angry doesn’t solve anything.

Just like that, his antagonism deflated and remorse replaced it. Remorse for the one person helping him. Clara was his best friend. It wasn’t her fault Fern had cheated on him. “Clarabelle. Fuck,” he muttered and rolled his shoulders. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I’m sorry.”

To his immense relief, the look of fear that clouded her beautiful blue eyes faded away. “I’ve never seen you so angry,” she whispered. “But your heart is breaking, so I can understand why you’re feeling that way.”

There was a hint of sadness in her tone, hitting him square in the chest. He didn’t like seeing Clara sad. But his anger wasn’t because of the reason she thought it was. As he stood in the middle of the hotel room, he realized he was angrier at himself for being so gullible than because of a broken heart.

It was time to face what had been in the back of his mind for far too long. Something he should’ve acted on before things had gotten so far out of hand.

“I don’t have a broken heart.”

Clara’s mouth dropped open. “What do you mean you don’t have a broken heart? Fern was marrying you when she didn’t love you.”

“All true, and I did say earlier that I didn’t think I loved her.”

“When?” Her brow furrowed as though she was recalling all they’d talked about since she’d rescued him from the hotel lobby. A second later the frown lines cleared. “Oh, you did. I didn’t understand you then and I still don’t.”

The room closed around him, not in the same way as it had back at the other hotel, but more in a way that, when he bared his soul to Clara, he needed open space where he could move and breathe. “Let’s get out of here.”

Being the friend that she was, she didn’t question him. “Sure, let me get changed.”

For the first time since he’d seen her in the lobby, what she was wearing, registered. Her dress was light green and complemented her light brown hair which was pulled up into a high ponytail, highlighting the length of her neck. The dress was simple, but elegant and hugged her in all the right places and ended just above the knees. She wore shoes that sparkled in the muted hotel light.

Clara looked gorgeous, and desire swarmed through him, warming him. Ben fought to control it. Fought to push it down, like he’d done so many times in the past. Now wasn’t the time to be feeling this way, especially since only a few hours ago he was planning to get married to another woman.

What did that mean?

Did it mean he hadn’t been truly in love with Fern? Well, he’d begun to think that was the case when his bow tie began to choke him and realized that maybe he didn’t want to marry Fern after all. It could’ve been cold feet, but now, with the way he was reacting to Clara, he knew it wasn’t the case. In a way, he should be thankful that he’d stumbled upon Fern and her lover. If it wasn’t for them, he would be standing in front of a woman saying vows that he thought he meant but deep down didn’t.

What would’ve happened if he hadn’t seen Fern and had just gone down to the lobby to get some air?

He would never know. Life had a way of making decisions for you.

“Ben, you okay?”

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