Page 70 of Just Not That Into Billionaires

He disappears, and I reassemble myself, trying to put the least pressure on my knee, which is feeling nice and loose and nearly normal for once.

Sixteen

Francine

Benny leavesfor the office after that, and I do a recuperation day, taking full advantage of the semi-spa nature of the bathroom, and then I head to 341 to pick up some more clothes.

I hang out with Noelle up on the new rooftop garden that Malcolm created. She shows me her new planters. She has big berry-growing plans.

I don’t go into the full rundown of what happened between Benny and me on the couch, meaning the story gets pretty vague after him holding an ice pack on my knee.

Even so, she’s amazed. “I think he’s into you,” she says.

“It definitely seems like that at times, but I don’t know if he’ll ever forgive me for acting like a freak and making a pass at him and then ghosting him,” I say.

We’re leaning over the railing, staring at the building across the street, trying not to look in people’s windows. That’s the deal you make in New York. You see, but you don’t look.

“I tried to apologize to him,” I continue, “but he doesn’t like to talk about the past. I think he will never really trust me.”

“Yet he makes you play his wife,” she says.

Luckily, there is big drama at her work, and I’m happy to hear about it, to get my mind off of the strangeness of Benny.

I don’t see him that night at all.

The next morning when I trot out to the kitchen to grab coffee and a quick snack, his favorite mug is on the counter.

I put my hands around it. It’s still slightly warm. I think about his hands on it. His lips. I run my finger all around the rim. Is he avoiding me now? Is he going to be an asshole again?

There’s a knock at the front door. I go, thinking it might be Benny, and feeling happy about that, but it’s Mac.

“You have to knock?” I ask. “I thought you just came in and out.”Like a butler, but I don’t say that.

“I always knock before I come in, but I do then let myself in if I have work here to do,” he says, breezing past. “And I have tons to do to get ready for your class.”

“Wait, what?”

He goes on to inform me that my class is all set for five o’clock after I get home from the dance studio. He had waivers signed and plans to have some chairs set up and parking figured out for those who need it.”

“Parking…” I say.

He’s going on about how there’s probably only room for ten to view from inside the workout room but he’ll set up a lounge just for the parents in the den. There will be snacks.

“Wait, back up, Mac! This class can actually happen?”

“You requested it the other night,” he said. “Have you changed your mind? You said the class needed more practice times and that you wanted to use the space and have me make it happen. I’ve got two times worked out, but there’s a possibility for a Saturday one. I was able to use the class roster you forwarded to interface with the parents and get everybody’s a-okay.”

“And Benny’s okay with it?” I ask, stunned.

“He’s good with it. He says this is your home, too.”

I felt...elated. The girls need more practices. Adding another class time or switching class time by even ten minutes is traditionally half a day’s headache, and here Mac has achieved the feat of scheduling entirely new class sessions. We won’t be able to do barre work without a barre, but I’ll take it!

“Okay,” I say, practically backing away lest he change his mind, and also I’m running late at this point for the studio. “It’s decided. They’ll be here.”

I lose myself in company class, working like a demon at the barre, letting the music wash through me.

It’s hard not to keep going back to everything that happened. Center work begins, and I watch my colleagues in their grand pirouettes as I rehash the emotional roller coaster of being with Benny. I am really and truly falling for him again.

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