Totally and Completely Fine(80)

“What about sharks?” I asked.

He laughed. “Rare, but they’re around.”

“Don’t you worry about a Jaws-like situation?”

“Part of the risk,” he said. “But worth it for the reward.”

“You seem to like taking risks,” I said.

“You make it sound like a dirty word.”

I gave him a sideways glance. I wasn’t the one with the mouth.

Ben grinned. “Jump out of one airplane and people think you’re some sort of daredevil. Jump out of six…”

“Six?”

“Maybe seven. Eight? I lost count. It’s kind of addictive.”

“I’ve never jumped out of an airplane.”

“You’d love it,” he said.

“Would I?”

“I’ve got a feeling you’re a secret thrill seeker,” he said.

“That’s a joke,” I said. “I’ve barely left Cooper, let alone jumped out of an airplane.”

“Say the word and I can have us diving from a plane in twelve hours,” he said.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, knowing that if I wanted to, he would absolutely make it happen.

“There’s just something about it,” he said. “Jumping out of planes, racing cars, surfing with sharks, it’s peaceful.”

“Peaceful?”

He looked over at me. “I know,” he said. “It sounds bloody crazy, but those are the times when your mind lets go. You can’t think, you can’t worry, you can’t do anything but breathe and be alive. You’re completely in the moment—where everything just narrows into one clear goal.”

“Staying alive?” I asked dryly.

He laughed.

The truth was I knew exactly what he was talking about. My crafting wasn’t nearly as dangerous as his hobbies, but they seemed to provide the same comfort. The same focused distraction—something I struggled to find in the rest of my life.

The car was quiet for several miles; the only sound was the radio turned down low.

“That’s a lovely jumper you’re wearing.”

“Thank you,” I said. “I made it.”

“Course you did,” he said. “I heard you’re making some additions to the costumes.”

I’d had to measure him earlier that day, and it had done nothing to calm my nervous anticipation for this evening. Strangely it wasn’t the inseam that had given me the most issues—it was wrapping the measuring tape around his chest, trying not to bury my face in it.

“A scarf for you and a pair of fingerless gloves for Gabe. Nothing too major.”

“I bet they’ll look great,” he said.

“They aren’t supposed to,” I said. “I have to make them imperfect, since it all needs to look moth-eaten and worn.”

I was surprised by how much fun I was having with the process. Learning how to age and deconstruct fabric in a way that looked realistic. It wasn’t as easy as one might assume. But I was enjoying the challenge, even if I hadn’t started working on the scarf I was supposed to be making for Ben.

“Allyson told me about your craft room.”

“And what did she say?”

“That it was like a serial killer’s lair,” he said. “If serial killers were really into fiber arts.”

“Ha,” I said. “She should talk—her basement looks like a legitimate murder took place there. And she won’t let me organize it.”

“You two seem close,” he said. “Did you grow up together?”

I shook my head. “She moved to Cooper fairly recently. It’s a new friendship, but a good one.”

“Did she know Spencer?” Ben asked.

I froze, wondering if I was going to start weeping again.

“No,” I said, tentatively. “He’d already died.”

So far, so good.

“You and Spencer grew up together, right?” Ben asked.

I nodded. “He was friends with Gabe first,” I said. “They were the same age.”

“Should I make the obvious joke about how you prefer younger men?”

I laughed.

“He was only a year younger,” I said. “How old are you? Twenty-two? Twenty?”

“Sadly, I’m the ripe old age of thirty,” Ben said. “Are you disappointed?”

“So disappointed,” I said.

Chapter 43

Now

Apparently dating could be fun.

We probably ordered far too much food, but Ben wanted to try everything the waitress had recommended. They had a five-minute conversation about the catfish, and I witnessed firsthand the spell that Ben had cast over the population of Cooper.

He was kind and curious and interested. Asked questions. Laughed at jokes. Looked into your eyes when he spoke to you. Remembered names. His so-called charm, I realized, was basically just good communication skills. Which unfortunately was a novelty among men these days.

“Exactly how many hearts have you broken?” I asked when the waitress—Suzanne—left with our orders.

“Not a one,” Ben said.

“I don’t believe that for a second,” I said.

He shrugged. “I’ve never been the one to end a relationship,” he said. “The heart that breaks is usually mine.”