Page 33 of Because of You
She turns around at the top of the porch steps, holds both arms out, yells, “Vacation, baby!” and then sweeps into the house, calling a hello to whoever is in there.
“What was with you and Ben?” I jump at Emma’s voice behind me.
“What do you mean?”
“That was a pretty long hug hello, considering you just saw him at the gala last night.”
“Oh, was it? I guess maybe. I didn’t notice.”
She looks at me for a long moment and I get the uncomfortable feeling that, in her Emma way, she is seeing way more than I want her to. But then she just shrugs and says, “Okay. Come on; let’s get in there.”
Thank all the gods she decides not to press, because I have no idea what I would tell her. Admitting I’m feelingsomethingabout Ben seems weird and premature since I have no clue what is going on with him. And with me. With him and me? God, no, no him and me. Friend Ben.
Get your shit together, Hallie.
We walk into the house and even though I can hear the chaos of voices back in the kitchen and would kill for an iced latte since my last coffee was two hours ago, I stop for a moment and take everything in. The massive, cheerful great room with the same oversize furniture Julie, Ben, and I tumbled over as kids. The bookshelves overflowing with both classics and well-loved paperbacks I curled up with as a teenager on rainy summer afternoons. I take a deep, cleansing breath as the memories wash over me. Everything about the house is family and love andhome. I love every gorgeous inch.
Emma and I walk through the great room, back to the kitchen and straight into the arms of Rachel Parker. She hugs Emma and then reaches for me and wraps her arms around me.
“I am so happy to see you, Hallie.”
It’s not lost on me that her words of greeting are the same ones Ben used outside, but while his led to butterflies, arousal, and confusion, Rachel’s greeting leaves me full of warmth. I've always felt closer to Rachel than I do to my mom. There's something about the ways she gets me that is so different from my family. I can let myself be open with her in ways I can't or won't with almost anyone else, except, strangely, Ben. She releases me from the hug but keeps her hands on my shoulders as she studies my face.
“You doing okay, my girl?”
Ben got all his compassion, and the color of his eyes, from his mom. Her expression of concern is so like his that it makes a lump rise in my throat. Terrified I am going either to lose it in this bright, cheery kitchen or spill my guts to her about my existential work crisis and the weirdness with Ben, I just nod, but then I reach out and hug her again.
Over her shoulder, I see Ben around the big farmhouse table with the girls, but he is paying attention only to me. His quiet, steady gaze holds mine, and everything in me relaxes. How this man can give me butterflies one minute and calm my entire being the next is a mystery.
Feeling steadier, I release Rachel. I barely turn around before Ben is handing me a glass with a straw in it.
“Iced latte. Figured it’s been a while since your last caffeine hit, and you were probably running on empty. And I put your bags in your room.”
He gives me a sexy smirk and then strolls out the back door to the deck. I just stare after him, wondering how he knew what kind of coffee I wanted when I didn’t decide until I stepped into the house. And also, why I am suddenly thinking about any facial expression of Ben’s as sexy.
God, my head is a mess.
I take my first grateful sip of the latte, and out of the corner of my eye, I see Emma watching me quietly from her place by the glass doors out to the deck. Shit. But I don’t have too much time to consider what Emma sees or doesn’t see before I am attacked on both sides by my sisters.
“You’re finally here!” Jo yells, a little too close to my ear.
“I missed you! And I am so sad I missed the gala! How was it? Tell meeverything.” What Hannah’s voice lacks in volume, it makes up for in extreme enthusiasm.
“Oh my god,yes,” squeals Jo. “Who hooked up? What was everyone wearing? Did you meet any new athletes? I need to see all your pictures!”
The thing about Hannah and Jo is that once they get into it, they can do an entire thing on their own without me ever having to say anything. They keep firing questions at me and bouncing questions off each other without noticing that I still haven’t said a word. I take my typical position when the three of us are together and they get on a roll - standing there and waiting for my turn to talk. Just as they are winding down, though, my parents step into the kitchen.
“Hallie!” My dad scoops me up in a bear hug. “Missed you, baby doll.” I bury my face in his neck and breathe in his comforting dad scent. I think he’s been wearing the same lime-scented deodorant since 1985. It is uniquely him, and to me, it smells like home. Without warning, the same lump that rose in my throat when Rachel studied me makes a reappearance. I let go as quickly as I can, even more unwilling to let loose my emotions that are swimming too close to the surface now that my family has descended.
My dad heads outside and my mom wraps me up next. As she is letting go, she says, “I’ve barely talked to you in the last couple of weeks, Hallie. How is everything going with the firm?”
Ugh. I should have used the drive up here to strategize in my head about how I was going to answer these questions I knew would be coming from my family. I had, mostly successfully, avoided phone calls and visits under the guise that we were too busy setting up the office, but my luck has clearly run out. Never great at thinking on my feet, I just mumble, “Things are good.”
“Just a few more months until you girls are ready to open. You must be so happy.”
“Of course, she’s happy,” says Jo. “They’ve been planning this for years, and it’s finally happening.”
“I would kill to be my own boss and work with my best friends. Work is so annoying lately. Did I tell you about what happened with my boss? You’re not going to believe what he did.”
