He places a dollop of wasabi on my plate. 揑sn抰 this better than having sex on your desk??
I lift my chopsticks. 揑f you think sushi is better than sex on my desk, I抦 worse at it than I thought.?
He frowns at me and I give in with a sigh. 揊ine, it抯 better. But卝ust so we抮e clear, I抳e never wanted to date a lawyer and I抦 not planning to date a lawyer. I have my future all set, and it doesn抰 look like this.?
He raises a brow. 揟wo people fucking all night in a completely undecorated apartment? I can understand that.?
I laugh. 揘o. It doesn抰 involve me with someone who抯卝ust like me. I need one of us to be a decent person. Like a guy in a Hallmark movie.?
There抯 something a little grim in his dark eyes. 揥hat抯 the deal with that? The Hallmark thing??
I wave my hand. 揑t抯 just a joke.?
揑s it? Because you bring it up a lot.?
I bite my lip. 揑t抯 a thing, with me and my mom,?I tell him, pushing the food around on my plate. I抎 like to leave it at that, but he抯 waiting for more. 揥e used to watch all these Hallmark movies together. I think they gave my mom a little hope after my dad left because Hallmark-movie men are never men like my father. They won抰 trade up when their wives get old, or betray someone抯 trust. They just want to do the right thing.?
揟hat抯 your obsession with the chef,?he says quietly. 揧ou want a caretaker. Someone who will put you first.?
He抯 probably right. I do want someone who will take care of me, someone who won抰 just leave, as if we never existed in the first place. 揑 guess. I can抰 even keep a plant alive. I抦 not someone who抯 naturally going to make time for a relationship and do all the things you have to do. Neither are you. So how does that ever actually work??
He pulls me onto his lap. 揑t kind of seems like it抯 working,?he replies. And there抯 something so soft in his eyes, so genuine, that I have to look away.
29
I beat Ben into the Monday meeting for the first time ever and hide a smile as he walks in, though it抯 hard to feel too triumphant, given that he had to drive all the way to Santa Monica to get dressed when he left my apartment two hours ago.
If I were a better person, I抎 offer to let him keep a few things at my place, but since he抯 never even invited me to his, I抳e chosen not to. Petty, yes, but no one would expect more of me.
His eyes meet mine across the table and my thighs tighten. I take one of the strawberries he抯 just brought in. I know exactly what he抯 thinking as I place it between my lips.
My phone chimes with a text.
Ben: Do that again.
I take another strawberry and make a show of putting it to my lips, just enough for him to notice but not obvious to anyone else at the table, reveling in the power I hold in this moment. His eyes flutter as it slides down my throat. It takes every bit of self-control I have not to laugh.
His next text is only one word.
Ben: Lunch.
Me: We抣l see.
And he grins because he already knows this means yes.
If I抦 going to let my foot off the gas, this is a good week for it. The office is entirely useless just before Thanksgiving, a holiday I couldn抰 care less about: the food isn抰 good, no gifts are exchanged, and women do all the work. In the future, once married to a small-town doctor/vet/Christmas-tree-farm owner, I plan to have his mother handle most of it, and I will bring the rolls and the wine.
Ben is going home, of course, followed by a trip to some vineyard with his posse because he has a rich family life, tons of friends, and typically some unchallenging arm candy by his side. He抯 a lawyer as seen on TV梖lashy car, hot dates, glib smile, always winning梬hile I抦 a real-life lawyer with a miserable backstory, one that suggests I should get accustomed to spending holidays alone.
The entire office empties on Wednesday afternoon, Ben among them. My apartment feels lonelier than it ever has that night, probably because Ben and I haven抰 slept apart once since I started letting him come over. Which leads me to think, again, that I shouldn抰 have been letting him come over in the first place.
He calls on Thanksgiving. I told him I抦 spending the holiday with Keeley, just in case he was pity-inclined to invite me to his home, so I claim to be getting ready to leave for her dad抯 house when I am, in fact, sitting at my desk梩he sole person at FMG today.
There抯 shouting in the background, then someone tries to take his phone.
揝orry,?he says. 揑t抯 mayhem here. My brothers got in a fight over whether it抯 best to cook a turkey in the oven or a deep fryer. Needless to say, this means we抳e now got three turkeys being prepared, and my mom is yelling at us to get out of her way.?
I laugh, trying to hide the part of me that feels a little wistful, imagining it. For all my grumbling about the holiday, I used to like Thanksgiving back when my mother invited people over. 揌ow does your mom feel about you bringing teenage girls as guests, by the way? Does she make them sit at the kids?table??