Page 67 of Check the Halls
Responding to Ben’s texts were a bit harder to navigate.
Hockeyboi17: Are you okay?
Hockeyboi17: I’m not sure why she showed up here, but I promise it’s not what you think
Hockeyboi17: Can you call me? Let me explain?
Hockeyboi17: Please text me to let me know you got home safe.
The last one made the chasm in my chest grow wider and deeper.
I’m not confused.
Ben’s words from the morning after he rescued me from that hotel bar ring in my ears like they’re playing on repeat.
If he’s so in love with me, why was his ex-girlfriend at his birthday party? I recognised her immediately. There had been enough pictures of them circulating online last year that they were hard to ignore. Valentina Dobrev. High-end fashion model and influencer.
I thought I’d been familiar with jealousy before, but I was so wrong. When girls used to fawn over Ben when we were younger, it was annoying. When Alyssa flirted with him at the donor breakfast, I’d been irritated. But when Valentina looked at him, when she walked up to him and claimed him while I stood there, frozen?
That was a new level of jealousy and heartbreak that I’d never come close to experiencing. A raw, acute pain with no relief. It’s something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.
I’m not confused.
How nice for you, Ben,I think as I stab the elevator close button. Because I certainly am.
Not about everything. I know in my heart that I made the right decision leaving Derek. I’ve never second-guessed my choice. Not when I left, not a few days later when I cleaned out my remaining clothes and personal effects from his condo, and not any time his mother’s name appeared on my phone screen since.
Even after the disaster at the bar on Friday night, I didn’t question whether ending our engagement was a mistake. I know we’re not right for each other and we would never be able to make one another happy.
I’m not confused about my career either. Despite the hurdles and growing pains I’ve faced, I know I’m where I want to be. The work is challenging, but I still wake up every morning looking forward to the day ahead of me, and I come home tired but fulfilled.
No, the only real uncertainty I’m faced with is Ben. It’s not a question of what my feelings are for him, it’s what to do with them. I know I want him, but it’s not that simple. Do I think I can have him? Really have him and not lose him again like before? Am I brave enough to even try? After seeing the competition last weekend, I honestly don’t know.
What I do know is that we need to get through the next six weeks, and in order to do that, we need to reestablish a professional working relationship. And it’s my responsibility to help put us back on course.
And this is what I focused on when I drafted my response Saturday morning.
Maddy: Hey! No need to explain anything. I just really needed to get home and warm up! I will see you next week at the appointment with the stylists. I hope you had a great birthday!
I hoped it sounded like the text of a friendly professional and not like it was from someone with a tension headache caused by crying herself to sleep.
Today’s task is all about wardrobe. I arranged to meet Ben and Annika Lei at Soiree, a high-end boutique downtown.
Did I invite Chanda because I desperately needed a buffer in case Ben wanted to talk about something other than the Gala? Yes. Yes I did.
“So what are your thoughts on the hosts’ attire?” I ask as the elevator doors open and we walk into the lobby. “I’m thinking formal, of course, but not stuffy. Their outfits should be cohesive, but not matching, festive, but not cliché.”
“Absolutely,” Chanda agrees. “Do you remember the jewel green costume Annika wore at the last Olympics for her long routine?”
“Of course.” She deserved a medal for that outfit alone. It had fit her like a second skin, showcasing every graceful line of her figure. The rich green hue was perfect against her pale, porcelain skin and jet-black hair. The ensemble was as breathtaking as her performance that night.
“I’d love to see her in something like that. Full-length, obviously.”
“Definitely. And less bedazzled.” We laugh before I ask, “And Ben?”
Chanda gives me a conspiratorial wink. “Let's be honest–we could put him in a paper bag and he’d still look mouth-watering.”
I feel the heat flush my cheeks again. She’s not wrong, as much as I wish she were. “Be that as it may, I believe paper bags are out of fashion this year.”
