Page 28 of An American in London

As we pull away from Fairfield House, it’s like my edges blur, and I feel less like myself than when I was pretending to be Ben’s fiancée.

All I can think of is how sad I am to be leaving.

Maybe it’s the anticlimax, now that the adrenaline is seeping away.

Or maybe it’s more than that. Maybe this weekend has shown me who I want to be.

“So I guess that’s it,” I say as we turn out the large gates that felt so imposing when we arrived. I’d been so nervous, but I needn’t have been.

“Tell me about your life in New York,” Ben says as if he hasn’t heard me.

“We’ve just told a web of lies and semi-committed to getting married at Fairfield House, and you want to chitchat about my life in New York?” And we made out! I don’t add. Part of our charade turned into something real. Didn’t it?

“Are you over your ex?” he asks.

“What?” Not only are Ben and I not on the same page in this conversation, I don’t even think we’re in the same book.

“Your fiancé. Do you think you’ll get back together?” Ben stares straight ahead, seemingly focused on the road.

“No, we’re not getting back together. He moved to Iowa with a ballerina from SoHo. I told you that.”

“Would you want to get back together if he left the ballerina?”

“What? I haven’t even ...” Jed is many things, but he isn’t a flip-flopper. When he said we were over, I knew he wouldn’t change his mind. It hadn’t been an overnight decision for him. “He won’t.”

Ben lets out an exasperated breath.

It hadn’t even occurred to me to think about what would happen if Jed came back, begging for my forgiveness, because it would never happen.

“Life doesn’t move backward,” I say. “We were together a decade. I thought I knew what he was thinking before he did. I was wrong about so much. But I know one thing: Jed won’t come back. He’s made his decision.”

Silence twists between us. What’s Ben thinking? Does he want to kiss me again? Because I really want to kiss him.

“Are you deliberately not answering my question?” he asks.

I fold my arms in front of me. Now I’m the one who’s exasperated. I’ve answered Ben’s question. I have nothing to hide.

“You told me what he would or wouldn’t do,” he says. “Not what you would do if he came back. I can’t tell if this is just you being you, prioritizing everyone else’s needs and desires over your own, or if there’s a part of you that genuinely wants him back.”

I uncross my arms and stare out the window. Ben’s right. Since we broke up, I’ve only really considered Jed’s side of our relationship. But if reality were turned on its head and Jed came crawling back to me, what would I do?

“No,” I say, all my thoughts slotting into place.

“I wouldn’t take him back. But not because he cheated and lied.

” I laugh out loud because that should be enough of a reason not to take back a boyfriend.

“I think I needed him when we met. I needed something or someone to take me away from the grief of losing my mom. Jed helped me hide from that, from the me before ...”

Being with Jed helped me carry on when I could barely breathe, I missed my mom so much.

I couldn’t imagine a time when I wouldn’t be so heavy with sadness; I could only just move from my bed to the couch.

Dad had insisted I still go off to college, and looking back, it was the best decision I could have made in the aftermath of Mom’s death.

Then I met Jed and life just ... moved forward.

“And now?” Ben asks.

“Things are different now,” I say. I’m not sure how, exactly—they just are.

Last time I was single, I’d been paralyzed by grief over my mother’s death.

Now I still miss her, but every action or inaction isn’t driven by that grief.

“I don’t need a lifeline to pull myself through an ocean of sadness, and in all honesty, I haven’t needed one for a long time.

I think I hung on to Jed because part of me was afraid of what would happen if I let go.

I don’t want to hide anymore. I don’t need to.

I like the me I was when my mom was alive.

Being in London ... It’s helped me reconnect with that part of myself, and I don’t want to lose that.

I’m not the same woman I was when I was with Jed. And I don’t want to be.”

Ben reaches for my hand and our fingers interlink.

We travel in silence through the winding country roads.

The colors of the trees remind me of home.

Not New York City home, but Franklin, Madison County.

The leaves on the trees are transforming from new and green to a rainbow of gold, red, rust, and orange.

And they’re all the more beautiful for it.

“I’m very aware I paid you to be here with me this weekend,” Ben says out of nowhere. His tone suggests we’re in the middle of a conversation, and I wonder how long he’s been talking to himself in his head.

“Yeah, well, I can’t take your money.” It’s a gut reaction. I didn’t think before I spoke, but as soon as the words are out, I know they’re true.

“You can and you will,” Ben responds.

“You can’t force me to take thirty thousand dollars from you.

I had one of the best weekends of my life.

I met incredible people, stayed in an amazing house.

I even had a behind-the-scenes view of one of my favorite films. And then .

..” There’s been you, I don’t say. “There’s no way I can take your money. ”

Ben swerves over to the side of the road, where there’s a clearing in the hedgerow and a gate to a field. He cuts the engine and, without explanation, gets out of the car.

He can’t be angry with me. Maybe he urgently needs to pee? Tentatively I open the door, poke my head out, and see him leaning against the trunk.

What is happening?

I climb out of the car and take in his body language—rigid, taut as a bowstring, and radiating energy like a nuclear reactor. “Are you ... mad?”

He won’t meet my eye. Instead he runs his fingers through his hair, staring at the road we’ve just come down. “I think I might be heading in that direction.”

“So ... just slightly irritated but it’s building?” I ask, more than a little confused.

“I mean I think I’m ...” He lowers his hands and turns to me. “I like you.”

His words hit me in the chest with near-physical force. I can’t help but lift the corners of my mouth into a smile. “And that makes you angry?”

His frown deepens. “Not that kind of mad. The kind of mad that has you wondering if you’ve lost your mind.”

Warmth floods into my chest. He’s conflicted. He’s discombobulated. He doesn’t know the next step, let alone the next ten. That must be deeply disorienting for a man like Ben.

I step toward him and hook my finger into the waist of his jeans, needing to touch him.

I stare up at him, but he won’t meet my eyes.

“You like me, and therefore, you think you might be losing your mind?” I’m smiling even though I know part of me should be offended.

I’m not. I understand that unexpected feelings could catch a man like Ben off guard.

I’m just pleased he’s having them. Because it’s entirely mutual.

He slides his hands around my waist. “I think ... It’s just .

.. I ... I ... I.” He finally meets my eye.

“I’ve paid you to be here ...” He shakes his head.

“It’s not just that. The money wouldn’t do it because you said no to that.

But when my connection to your boss was made clear .

..” He stops again like he’s trying to pull lots of threads together to make a tapestry of the inner workings of my brain.

“Did you kiss me because you wanted to please me or because you wanted to please you?”

There’s a pressure in my forehead I’m not used to. Confusion or frustration—I can’t be sure which. “Please you?” I ask.

He searches my face for answers, but there’s nothing to find because I’m not quite sure what he means.

“I like clarity,” he says. “And you and me? We’re not clear.” I see all the conflict within him laid out like a bowl of spaghetti spilled onto the floor.

I smooth my hands up his arms, enjoying the firm, safe feel of him.

“Let me tell you something for free: I don’t kiss men I don’t want to kiss.

Not even if they have an ass as good as yours.

I don’t tell men they’re wonderful when I don’t think they are.

You didn’t take advantage of me. And anyway, I told you, I’m not taking your money.

Even if I did, thirty thousand dollars wouldn’t make me kiss you.

Three hundred million dollars wouldn’t do it either. I like you. That’s why I kissed you.”

“And I told you, you absolutely are taking the money. You earned every penny. The duke and duchess were entirely charmed by you, and the duke has asked me to The Fairfield. Even in my wildest dreams, I couldn’t have imagined making as much progress as I have over the last weekend.

” His energy changes as he talks about the duke.

It’s like he’s shifted into business brain.

While I’m pleased he looks less concerned, I’m slightly disappointed we’ve moved on from talking about kissing.

“It helps that the duchess wants him to sell.”

“Yes, but now he sees me as a man he might want to sell to. A lot of that is down to you.”

“I’m glad things are working out,” I say. Ben is a wonderful man. He’s just not great at showing everyone how wonderful he is.

“Are we off the clock?” he asks.

“There’s a clock?”

He doesn’t respond, leaving me to guess what he’s really trying to ask.

I reach up to stroke my index finger over his cheekbone. “If I say yes, does it mean you’ll kiss me again?”

“Promise me something,” he says as his eyes close under my touch. I don’t respond and he opens his eyes to check I’ve heard him. “When you’re with me, don’t say yes to anything you don’t want.”

I frown. “Why would I do that?”

“Tuesday,” he whispers, and it’s the only explanation he gives as he cups my jaw.

I lift myself up on my tiptoes and reach for him.

His lips find mine and I feel my insides unfurling under his touch.

If I spend the rest of the day by the side of a road, the intermittent zip of a car in the background while I kiss the man in front of me, it might turn out to be the best day I ever spent.

As we kiss, he flips us around so I have my back to the trunk.

He presses his hips to mine, pinning me to the car, his urgency more evident today than it had been last night.

I dig into his hair, my fingers exploring, and I have that same floating sensation as when we danced in the walled garden.

He growls into my mouth, and the vibrations spread across my body, bringing the blood to the surface of my skin. Every inch of me wants him.

He pulls away suddenly and steps back. As he pushes his fingers through his ruffled hair, I scan his face for doubt. What I find is focus. “We need to get back in the car. Or we’re going to get arrested.”

“Do the British police arrest people for kissing?”

He moves around the driver’s side, and I mirror him, opening the passenger door.

“No, but I’m afraid of what I might convince you to do if we keep going.”

I have to press my lips together to stop myself from smiling. I like that he feels a little out of control with me. I can’t imagine it happens a lot for Ben.

We slide into our seats and resume our journey in comfortable silence. The countryside is beautiful, but it creates an ache for home inside me I haven’t felt for a long time. I glance across at Ben.

Ben. Ben. Ben .

When I was with Jed, I don’t ever remember feeling as special as I do with Ben. The way he looks at me, like he’s stunned he’s lucky enough to be near me. The way he kisses me, like he just can’t get enough. The way he holds me, like I’m precious. I’ve never felt that before.

Ben’s words echo in my memory. Don’t say yes to anything you don’t want.

Did I ever want Jed? Or did he just want me?

One thing I know for sure is that I want Ben.

My phone beeps with a message and I open it.

“It’s the duchess,” I say, skimming the message. “She’s inviting us to dinner with her and the duke on Saturday at their town house.”

I glance across at Ben, but he’s unreadable.

“I’d be happy to continue our ... fake engagement if you want to go,” I offer.

“I can’t ask you to do that,” he says. “I’ve already taken up too much of your time. You’re meant to be focusing on work.”

“For a start, you didn’t ask, I offered. And second, I like the duke and duchess. If you didn’t know already, I kinda like you too. An evening with the four of us sounds fun.”

He shakes his head. “Always wanting to please someone.”

My stomach sinks into my seat. It wasn’t the reaction I was expecting.

“Is it what you want?” Ben asks.

“I just said so, didn’t I? But if you want to take some other woman with a straightforward coffee order, then ...” I shrug. “I guess that’s life.”

Ben’s gaze stays on the road. “If you’re sure you’re happy to do dinner on Saturday as my fiancée, I would appreciate it. It’s the last time I’ll ask, I promise,” he says.

“Happy as a clam,” I say, ignoring the bit about the last time. I don’t want to think about saying goodbye to Ben. “On one condition. You drop the idea of paying me for this weekend.”

He growls, but nods. “And then what?” he says.

“Then what what ?”

“When do you go back to New York?”

“Three weeks.”

He pushes his hand through his hair and shakes his head. “So you have three weeks left in London, then you’ll be in New York.”

I laugh because he’s repeating what I just said, and not because he doesn’t understand. Then the penny drops. He’s having trouble asking me out. “Do you want to hang out again? Just the two of us?” I ask. “Maybe ... ask me to dinner?”

He meets my gaze and nods.

He might be the most adorable man in the history of adorable men. I slide my palm up to his cheek and grin at him. “Good,” I say. “I’m going to say yes, because I want to hang out with you too.”

I expect to see a flicker of a smile on his lips, but instead he stays focused on the road ahead of us, sliding his hand onto my thigh.

Eventually he nods as if he’s been assimilating everything for the last few minutes. “Dinner,” he says. “Good.”

Adorable.