Page 65 of Secret Nights and Northern Lights
When it comes to Ben, I don’t think it’s possible to have regrets. Whether I’m ready to say it out loud or not, heismy person, he’s always been my person, and I can’t regret anything that happens between us, no matter what it might cost me.
As if summoned by our invisible connection, Ben appears at the top of the staircase with his sweatpants low on his hips, bare-chested, tattooed biceps flexing as he ruffles his messy bed hair. And yeah, I can’t regretthat.
In my ear, Calvin’s saying something about an update on the trip, so I ignore the automatic flutters in my belly that stir whenever Ben is nearby and attempt to focus.
“It’s, uh, good. Great, actually! No worries here!”
Fuck, this is not going well.
Ben watches me from above with a quizzical look, so I point at my wrist where a watch would be if I ever wore one and mouth, “We overslept!”
He pulls his phone from his pocket and his eyes go wide, then he disappears back into the loft, and I hear the upstairs shower turn on seconds later. We’re supposed to be on a whale-watching excursion at ten thirty in the city of Húsavík, located at least an hour north of here.
“Everything okay?” Calvin asks. “You sound distracted. Are you distracted,Ms. Miller?”
“Yes! I mean, no! Sorry.”Dear god.I take a breath. “Yes, everything’s okay. No, I’m not distracted. It’s just…spotty reception.”
“Listen, Ms. Miller.” His tone hardens, and I know he’s losing his patience with me. “You know this assignment is important to me. I made that very clear, did I not?”
“Yes. Very clear, sir.” I close my eyes to better focus. “Iceland has been amazing. I’ve been thinking of ways to creatively incorporate each of the locations into the article, but there’re so many incredible sites to feature that it’s going to be difficult to narrow down the content and—”
“That’s all well and good,” Calvin interrupts. “But I’m inquiring about Benjamin Carter. Any luck on the recruitment front? Your response to my email was lacking on details, to say the least.”
I bite back my frustration because that’s what I do. “Uh, about that…”
I’m not sure what to say here. I can’t very well tell Calvin Cramer III that I spent half the night with his star recruit’s head between my thighs. And despite pitching the idea of working atAround the Globeto Ben again the other night—and putting aside the fact that I truly do believe it might be good for him to have some stability in his life—continuing to press the issue, especially after last night, feels disingenuous at best, downright slimy, if I’m honest.
“Sir, the impression I get from Benjamin”—the formal name feels foreign on my tongue—“is that he enjoys his freelance lifestyle. Maybe the most we can hope for is that he agrees to do more assignments forAround the Globein the future without being a full-time employee contractually obligated to only us. I actually think there’s a strong possibility of that happening if—”
“No.”
No? Uh…“Excuse me?”
“Unacceptable,” Calvin reiterates. “Ms. Miller, I’m giving you a real opportunity here. I thought you wanted your shot at the big leagues.”
“I did. Ido,” I say, thrown.
“Then I’m going to be one hundred percent honest with you right now.” From his sharp tone, I don’t think I want one hundred percent honesty. Perhaps I can only handle sixty percenthonesty at best. Maybe fifty-five. “People don’t subscribe toAround the Globefor the articles. They subscribe for the photos. Photos that take them to a place far away from the monotony of daily life. Our subscribership has plummeted the past fiscal year, and we need a name like Benjamin Carter to turn things around. I thought you of all people could handle this.”
Well, it’s officially confirmed. This was never about my writing. Not even a little bit. Calvin chose me only because I’m the affable, party planning,No Worries!, go-to office girl who always has a smile on her face and never pushes back. I’m willing to bet, regardless of Suki’s broken ankle—ifthat’s even real—that I’m the only one Calvin would ask to do this. He wouldn’t push this “recruitment” off on one of the other Internationals because he respects them, a sentiment he clearly lacks when it comes to me.
“I have to go,” I hear myself saying. “I’m about to miss my whale-watching excursion.”
“Try not to take what I said personally,” Calvin says, calmer now, and I disguise the audible scoff that rises from my throat with a cough. “I firmly believe Benjamin wouldn’t have taken this assignment after all this time if he wasn’t somewhat interested. Find out what that interest is and exploit it. See you stateside.”
Calvin ends the call before I say anything else, which is fine because I’m speechless.
“Hey, you.” Ben startles me as he wraps his arms around me from behind. Freshly showered and wearing only a towel, his skin is warm and damp against the back of my borrowed T-shirt. “You feel tense. What was that about?”
I should tell him the truth. All of it. But if I tell him now, he’llquestion why I didn’t tell him sooner. Last night was the best night of my life, and I want to hold on to that feeling for as long as I can. Besides, I’m an adult who is perfectly capable of handling Calvin on my own. I think.
“Nothing important,” I lie. “We have to hurry or we’ll miss our boat.” I spin out of Ben’s arms and sprint for the stairs.
* * *
Interesting fact about Iceland: The country has the best way to control speeding I’ve ever seen. There aren’t police cars waiting on the side of the road to pull over naughty offenders, at least not that I’ve observed. Instead, they utilize roadside radars, similar to the ones in the States, but instead of flashing the speed back at the driver, these light up with either a smiley face (for those law-abiders who drive the correct speed) or a sad little frowny face (for those who like to live life on the edge).
When the sad face flashes at us, I feel as if I’ve disappointed every person I’ve ever known—and I’m not even the one driving. It’s a mind game for sure, and the guilt is real.
