Page 25

Hot baths

“That morning programme contacted me again,”

Susan mentioned during the drive back a few days later.

“Oh?”

“Susan,”

Derek grunted.

“They wanted us to go on Tuesday, did you get a message?”

“I did, but I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

“I have to agree,”

Derek added, backing me up.

“Of course, I understand. I guess… I’m just enjoying doing all these things with you. It would be nice to leave the press stuff on a positive note, after all the appeals we did.”

I let out a steadying breath. “You’re not the first person to think I should do it.”

Lucy and Catherine had said the same. The press were still hounding me, fighting for the first official interview. I paused, considering; it might take some of the heat off, but I had no idea what they expected of me and it was petrifying on multiple levels. “I’ll give it some more thought.”

“Of course, well, if you’d like, I was thinking we could get a hotel in London and see the sights on Monday. That’s where your other cousin is –with little Harry. I’m sure he and his fiancé would love to have us for dinner. For men, they are both great cooks.”

I laughed. “You can’t say that anymore, Susan.”

“She’s speaking from experience,”

Derek muttered.

Ben

When are you due home? xxx

Me

Four-ish. There doesn’t seem to be much traffic. Will you be in? xxx

Ben

I will be. I’m cooking for you. Dinner later. Date number three xxx

Me

Thank you! You don’t have to xxxx

Ben

Of course I don’t. See you in a bit xxxx

——————

Charlie

I accidentally on purpose overheard Damien say he’s on a gay dating app! I’ve downloaded it.

Me

What a relief! I better be invited to the wedding x

Charlie

Absolutely. Now I just need to think of a good opening gambit. How was re-meeting your family? x

Me

Are you joking? Go and actually talk to him. Waft over your perfume and show him your sparkly eyes. It was nice, thanks, heavy, but I’m glad to be working through these things. We’re just heading back now x

Charlie

Hurry up, Ben’s been extra salty without you around x

Tired, I let Susan and Derek head through the apartment door first, carrying my bag. As Ben stepped aside, holding it open, Susan hugged him exuberantly. I felt myself smile as she reached on her toes and he patted her back awkwardly.

“Susan.”

Derek tutted, nodding a greeting to Ben.

I waited for the threshold to clear before swinging forward my crutch, bringing me next to Ben in the doorway.

“You alright?”

he asked softly, eyeing me up and down.

I nodded and he smiled at me; I felt it as much as I saw it. When he shut the door, his hand came to the small of my back, his fingers curling gently. I leant into him so he pulled me tighter, the nerves of seeing him again immediately gone. Instantly, my shoulders relaxed, my body letting go of tension like it only ever did next to him.

Susan’s eyes shot between us, but thankfully, as she looked like she was about to burst with joy, Derek ushered her out of the door.

I was tired, but happy, although something in my body felt odd. I tried to force a few deep breaths as Ben put the kettle on, but I noticed my hands shaking, then my arms. I looked down at my hand, willing it to steady, as my ribs started fighting my lungs, pushing the air out too quickly as the quivering moved to my teeth. I clenched my jaw and shook my head, trying to will it away. It felt like there was a ball of angst fighting its way out and all I could do was be a passenger to the growing panic. The moment I let my guard back down, my body had seized the opportunity to let out all the emotions from the week.

“Hey, hey,”

Ben murmured as he took my hands in his. “What’s wrong?”

I fought the shake in my voice. “I’m fine. I’m happy. I don’t know what my body is doing.”

I grunted in frustration; it felt like someone had shaken a beehive in my stomach.

“It’s okay. It’s a panic attack. Breathe with me.”

“Ben.”

“Just do it. Hold for two… one, two… out for six.”

My lungs resisted as I blinked, my muscles tensing. My calf felt like it was about to cramp. “Ben, what are you—? It’s not—”

He squeezed my hands. “Because you’re not doing it. You need to breathe, Ivy. Shut your eyes.”

“Ben.”

He scowled at me, narrowing his eyes. “Quit being a pain in the arse and shut your eyes,”

he repeated firmly.

I shut my eyes, listening to his voice as he counted again, staring into the pink of my eyelids as even they fought me. I breathed. Then again. Then one more time until, finally, I realised my feet were back on the ground.

Still puffed out, I looked up at him. “How did you—? How did you learn that?”

Ben lifted my hands to his lips, kissing them gently. “One of my Lindas. Can I run you a bath?”

I nodded.

The warm water helped, but the panic lingered, like some emotion I couldn’t see was still trying to escape. I eased into the tub, feeling the bubbles slowly crackle and burst against my skin. Hooking up my leg, thankful that the cast was getting removed on Wednesday, I slid back against the cool ceramic of the bath, letting it soothe my skin. I tried to shake the thought of Susan and Derek being apart out of my head.

I couldn’t imagine Ben ever having a panic attack. Sure, he could be emotional sometimes – angry, easily frustrated – but panic? He seemed so totally in control of his life, his work, his home. Derek’s words floated through my mind. Catherine had said he was lonely. She’d rattled on about how she didn’t like Jessica and thought he’d only done it to spite her and all the others nagging him to settle down. But then, why me? Why open up to me? None of it made any sense.

I groaned, feeling my thoughts racing. It was like standing at the side of a motorway, feeling the rush of the cars speeding past.

I lifted my trembling hands up, willing them to calm again, splashing them back into the water after seeing that they were still shaking. I dipped my hair back, allowing the water to tease my scalp, listening to the pounding of my heart echo. A few breaths went deeper again so I sat back up, staring at the shiny grey tiles and perfectly arranged bottles.

The door eased open as Ben walked in with a mug. I glanced down, checking the bubbles weren’t giving too much away, as he placed it down, the steam merging with the sweet-smelling air.

“Better?”

he asked casually, as if I wasn’t in the bath.

“I think so.”

I gripped the side of the tub, not wanting to disturb my floating blanket.

Ben loitered, his eyes running curiously over the surface of the water. He carefully sat down beside me on the floor, bending his legs and resting his arms on the rim of the tub. I could’ve asked him to leave, but I was relieved he wanted to spend time with me. I’d missed his company.

“I saw Lucy and the kids yesterday; they left you a present in the kitchen.”

“Oh yeah, how was the cinema?”

I asked, lowering my hand beneath the surface.

He leant his arm on the edge of the bath, a different kind of energy rising in me as he drew closer.

“Sophie dropped her popcorn within five minutes and Isac kicked the man in front’s chair for a solid half an hour.”

I laughed, jiggling the water. “Thank you for earlier, I can’t imagine you ever losing yourself like that.”

His eyes flicked between a few expressions as I waited for a response.

“We all have our battles.”

Slowly, he rolled up the sleeves of his navy rugby shirt one at a time, exposing his forearms. I suddenly felt very naked as he took the time to fold each sleeve by his elbow. I watched him with no objection, trying to get out my next set of words, trying not to think about why he didn’t want to get wet sleeves. What he was thinking about doing.

“Was it after your dad?”

I asked, a little breathless, trying not to give away exactly how I was feeling; to stop picturing the vivid dream I’d been having.

He looked down to the stone tiles. “They started before Dad died. I was worried I’d lose him; then, I lost them both. The Lindas had a field day trying to reason with me on that.”

He looked at me and dangled a finger into the bubbles, circling a small pattern, the tip of his finger breaking the surface above my chest.

Keep it together, I told myself.

“You know, when I’m stressed,”

he continued, changing the subject as he dipped another finger into the bath, the ripples dancing out, “I find physical stimulation to be wonderfully distracting.”

I shifted slightly in the tub.

“I’m sure you do,”

I replied breathily, staring at his half-submerged hand, raising an eyebrow in protest.

He was too good at derailing my train of thought when he wanted to, and I could tell he knew what he was doing. With a grin breaking over his face, Ben moved his fingers down to find the lower section of my ribs, leaning over, running his touch over them slowly, disturbing the bubbles. Each inhale pushed my bare, warm skin into his.

Sensation snapped like a flash of lightning. I lifted a hand, flicking the white fluff at him– he couldn’t always have the control. It drifted through the air, catching on his face, leaving a few glimmering white speckles, one glistening in his eyebrow, another on the frame of his glasses. He withdrew his hand, leaving a small peephole in the soap.

“It’s barely over a week until this comes off,”

I offered, as much convincing myself as him to pause, becoming more and more aware of the water gently moving against my naked body.

“That’s a lot of days,”

he returned, leaving his hand on the side of the bath, rubbing his face into the shoulder of his shirt to dry the bubbles.

“Thanks for the tea. You can go now,”

I asserted, feeling proud of myself for a second.

Troublesome man that he was, he ignored me, walking two fingers along the side of the bath. “Are you always this well controlled?”

he asked, the words slow, his voice a lower pitch.

“I am finding it challenging.”

His smile widened, enjoying my comment, as a thin layer of mist settled on his glasses. I pulled a hand from the water, placing my fingertips on the rim of the bath and walking them towards his, water trickling down my knuckles. He moved his fingers over mine, pressing my palm down and sweeping up my arm.

Each touch rippled through me.

As his fingers passed my elbow, he flattened his hand, stroking it up to my shoulder. I tucked my chin to the side, into his soapy hand, raising my shoulder as my rogue body encouraged him. I took a deep breath, the noise seeming to fill the room. His finger purposefully drew a bubbly line across my collarbone and up my throat, teasing my senses to life. The skin was so sensitive, but it didn’t tickle.

It struck me how much I trusted him, how safe I felt. I didn’t feel scared that his fingers were on my throat, I felt liberated; they were there and that was okay – it could feel nice, more than nice. Giving him that permission, letting him get that close to me, when I was so vulnerable… I hadn’t felt safer. My back arched just enough that my breast peeked out from the bubbles. He shot me a hungry grin as his fingers traced seductively around my lips, leaving a trail of warm water.

“Is there a part of you that’s not perfect?”

he asked, not looking at my face.

The bubbles crackled, swirling with my movement.

Realising I was about to hand myself to him completely, I pressed my teeth down on his fingers, dragging my tongue against the tips. His eyes darted to mine, narrowing. I eased myself slowly out of the silky bubbles to sit up further; to face him, unveiling my top half. The water trailed down me, dripping off the peaks of my chest, the little rivers of white reflecting soapy colours. He didn’t hand the power back, though. Instead, he met my challenge, steadily pressing two fingers further into my mouth. I pulled my lips away as we stared at each other through a haze of delicious lust.

“We’ve made it this far.”

I leant forwards over my raised legs, having given him quite enough. “Ben, you should go.”

His eyes lazily dragged across me. “No, I shouldn’t. I should—”

“Ben.”

We both hesitated.

His body shuddered as he pulled himself up, trying to shake off whatever was in his head.

“Fine. I’m walking away and I’m not looking back. Next time I see you, I suggest you have clothes on.”

He strolled out, keeping his word. I laughed and sank back into the bubbles.

Once I was done, I dressed in my soft blue tracksuit bottoms and a t-shirt – trying to put the feeling of Ben’s fingers running up my neck to the back of my mind – and wandered into the main room.

“So, you know that morning television show?”

Ben was serving up steak and asparagus at the breakfast bar as I offered up my purposely un-sexy conversation starter.

“Mm, that smells good,” I added.

“The ITV one?”

he asked, licking his fingers.

I wasn’t sure if he was trying to be sexy, but he was.

“Yeah, you know I mentioned that I was asked about being a guest? Well, they’ve messaged Susan about it too, twice, actually. She wants to do it.”

“Do you want to?”

Ben asked, spooning out some new potatoes.

“I don’t know… I like creating the social posts and replying to people’s messages… and Susan said she wanted to end her media journey on a positive note. You know, after all the appeals? I don’t want to be some kind of celebrity, and I would have to talk to the police, but I don’t know. It could be good for me. Susan wants to leave tomorrow and spend the day in London, which I’ve never really done either. Lucy has been telling me to do more press, to take the opportunities and ‘live a little’. Charlie said it might help with the volume of messages. I’m so grateful for all the support from the public, I wonder if answering some of the big questions might be the right thing to do.”

He slid a neatly prepared plate in front of me as I thanked him, admiring the steaming, perfectly cooked food.

Ben sat beside me. “It could cause more trouble, increasing your profile like that. These types of shows are drawn to drama.”

“I know that. But did you see there was a whole podcast discussing the comments about me not being Maeve? I’m glad Susan isn’t on social media, people are brutal. I’m wondering if I come out and explain myself, show people who I am, then maybe they will be kinder?”

“You don’t need to explain anything, Ivy. I told you to ignore the negative comments, or delete them.”

He sighed. “I’m just worried you’re doing this more for everyone else than yourself.”

“What do you mean?”

He looked up from his plate, fork in hand. “You talk a lot about what other people want. You say you don’t want to be a celebrity, of course, but what do you want? I was thinking, you could easily come work with me, you know – officially, on a salary.”

I tried not to choke on my mouthful. “What?”

“Why do you sound so surprised?”

“Well, because it’s your business, Ben. I’m hardly qualified.”

I looked down at my food, trying to distract myself as something knotted in my gut. I’d been pleased when Ben had offered to talk things through, but working with him had been too much. His office was just that: his. I needed to start forging my own path, my own person.

Between mouthfuls, he continued. “I did the numbers; Charlie says it looks like those clients will come over the line, which would make you the second top salesperson for the month.”

There was a loud silence.

“Oh… I-I was just happy to help.”

He was looking at me like he was delivering this fantastic news, eyes full of expectation. I felt increasingly uneasy.

“I know.”

He smiled. “If you truly want to go on the show, own it, go. Maybe you’ll get some closure. In the meantime, I’ll speak to HR and see what we can offer.”

There was another long pause as he waited for the emotions he expected. As usual, mine disappointed us both.

“That’s very formal. Are you going to interview me as well?”

I joked, trying to lighten mood.

“It would be formal. I wouldn’t want to blur the lines. I thought about what you said.”

His tone was serious, corporate.

Take me back to the bath. He didn’t understand – blurring the lines was inevitable. Couldn’t we just be together?

I tried again to brush it off. “I bet you’re a brutal interviewer. Thank you so much for going to the effort with dinner, by the way. You’re a good cook.”

“You’re welcome. I take my work very seriously; we have a low staff turnover. Everyone I take on is a certain way, always very passionate.”

He hadn’t clocked my attempt to move away from the pressure I felt building.

“Don’t you think it might all be a bit much,”

I pressed cautiously, “working together and living together?”

“No. It doesn’t have to be.”

“I just feel like the lines blur already.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, living together, working together, sleeping together.”

He sipped his wine, looking stern. “Is this from Linda again? Did she say something about the work?”

“No, but Susan and Derek did. You have to admit, it’s a strange start to a relationship. Like, when did we go from friends to something more? To colleagues?”

“So, you want space?”

This conversation felt like I was running downhill too fast.

“I don’t want space from you, from you and me, but sometimes the other stuff just feels like I’ve fallen into another role.”

I tried my best to articulate the uneasy feelings I’d been having, with very limited success.

“Being here is a role?”

“No, not exactly.”

“Not exactly?”

Oh god.

I bought my elbow to the worktop, running my fingers through my hair, sweeping it away from my face. “It’s getting complicated, that’s all. I’ve enjoyed our dates so much, but I also feel guilty for the rest. I look around and see myself hobbling about here, arriving back from the hospital in a mess. So much has changed so quickly. If we’re going to try and be together, assuming that’s what you want, I just feel like we need a clean page to start from.”

His eyes softened as he put his hand on mine. “You don’t want to come to the office?”

“I want to finish the projects; I like helping, I like Charlie. It’s just… maybe I’m not ready for anything more formal yet.”

“Okay.”

He swallowed slowly before continuing. “Do you want to live here still?”

I clamped my teeth on my bottom lip, attempting to slow the words that wanted to tumble out. “Well, we always agreed it would be temporary. I think that’s playing on my mind as well, because if you still think it’s temporary, that makes me sad, but if it’s permanent, that feels like a huge decision to make.”

“Right,”

he said tightly.

We both ate in silence, more unsure of what to say than ever. He’d tried to offer me a job? I wondered briefly how he saw me as he looked at me, gathering up the plates.

“It’s been a long day. Let me clear up and we can settle down.”

My cheeks stretched with a yawn as I took his offer, curling up on the sofa.

“You sure you want a cup of tea, not another glass of wine?”

Ben asked.

“Yeah, please, I’m exhausted.”

He carried over the hot drink along with a bag of Minstrels, sitting beside me on the sofa. “So, Charlie told me that you two have been playing chess on an app?”

I smiled. “Yes, well, I didn’t like you winning so easily.”

He pulled out the board from under the side table and started arranging the pieces.

“Mary, Derek’s sister, has a horse, Monty. Susan said she’d take me to ride him when I’m back on two feet.”

“Does Susan ride?”

“I don’t think so,”

I replied, moving a pawn.

He moved his own pawn. “Was her brother like her?”

I moved another piece, matching his pace. “Yeah, he was, they were both lively. Daniel seemed very on the ball too. They want me to come to all these meals and things over the next few months.”

“That’s a good thing, right?”

“Um… yeah, of course. It’s just a lot.”

He moved another pawn. “What? A lot of dates?”

I moved my knight. “A lot of expectation.”

“Expectation?”

“Yeah.”

I paused to consider my next move, losing pace. I thought I could see a two-step check, but I was doubting myself. “I don’t want to let them down, I guess.”

“Why would you let them down? I thought you said they were all thrilled to meet you?”

He moved his knight, just as I’d predicted.

“Well, you saw the photo, right?”

“Yeah. It was a great picture. The comments section went mad.”

“You don’t think I looked out of place? Did you see someone commented a link to a whole blog where they’ve listed a load of reasons why they believe Sam’s version of events? They think I’m lying about Henworth.”

I watched his fingers grip the second piece. “Wait, are you going easy on me?”

“You know that’s crap.”

He looked up at me. “No, why?”

“Check,”

I said, with a swift diagonal glide of my queen and a squeak of excitement.

He grinned. “Oh. Okay. Interesting.”

He stroked his chin, but easily moved his king to safety. “Why would you look out of place? First of all, there’s definitely a family resemblance. I mean, you’re all fairly short,” he joked. “It looked like a happy family photo, like you’d known each other for ages.”

I moved to another position and failed to hide my grin. “Check. They’re all so close, I don’t know how I expected to just fit in, it’s not surprising people think the same. Maeve left this hole, a very specifically-shaped hole, and I don’t think… I don’t think I’m the right fit anymore.”

He moved to take my queen, but took my hand as I reached for the bishop. “I didn’t realise you felt like that. I don’t think anyone expects you to be anything. You talk about her like you’re separate people. You and Maeve.”

I looked at him. “They all wanted her back so badly, Ben. I just want to give her to them, you know? Instead, they have… me. Me, who stayed on the site and let myself get more and more damaged for years.”

“Exactly, Ivy. They have you. Despite everything you’ve suffered through, they’ve got you back. Susan’s told me how proud of you she is.”

He didn’t let go of my hand as I stared at the board, desperate to continue – mostly because I didn’t want to talk about this, partially because I really did want to win.

“She shouldn’t be, though, should she? I didn’t do anything. Ben, I didn’t even try when Marcus burst in here. I’m so mad at myself for being so weak. Everyone says, all the time, how proud they are of me, how happy they are, but it’s all my fault. I’m broken; they’ll never get that shiny, happy girl back, and I have to watch them adjust. Adjust to what I am. What I let myself become. Ugh, for god’s sake, please move your piece.”

He squeezed my hand before letting it go to move his rook, still holding my gaze. “It’s not your fault. You’re not weak.”

I looked down at the board, but two of his fingers tilted my chin, convincing me to meet his eyes as he planted a gentle kiss on my lips.

“It’s not your fault.”

I diverted my attention back to the board. “Thanks.”

“Thanks? You’re not listening to me at all, are you?”

I licked my lips to swallow some of the emotions simmering. Some of the darkness. “I could’ve done more.”

“You’re being very harsh on yourself.”

“You’re a fine one to talk.”

“Maybe, but I mean it nonetheless. You shouldn’t see yourself as this broken person, or Maeve as this lost person. You are her, you’re the version of her you needed to be to survive; all of us change as we grow up. You were strong enough to make it out – they’re all grateful for that. I am grateful for that. Besides, I happen to very much like the quick-witted, headstrong, feisty woman you are.”

I gave him an affectionate grin. “Are you going to move your piece or not?”

“Oh, I had checkmate a move ago.”

“What! How?”

I stared at the board, shocked as his queen fenced me in, using my own moves against me. “Why play with me if it’s so easy?”

Ben laughed. “It’s not easy, well, not so easy. I like seeing how your mind works. Want to play again?”

I flopped back, blowing away a strand of hair that had fallen forwards. “Not really. Let me find some more people to practice with first; I can’t stand you being so smug. Do you play poker?”

“Poker? What, like Texas Hold’em?”

I reached for the bag of Minstrels, tipping them onto the table. “Yeah.”

“You play poker?”

“I do, but not for too long – I need to go to bed soon.”

“Okay, but I warn you, in the interest of my own smugness, me and Jenson played all through uni.”

He pulled a deck of cards from the drawer and started shuffling them. I’d played and watched poker a lot on the site – I was quietly confident.

The first game was easy: I had a flush and I raised him right up to five chocolates as we attempted to feel each other out. During the next game, I figured out his tell: he had this almost sultry look in his eye when he thought I was winning, like he enjoyed the challenge. So, when he looked casual, I knew he had a good hand and folded. The next game, I let him take a few Minstrels back, setting up a small hustle on the fourth, leaving him with just two at the end of it.

He sat back and laughed. “Well, I didn’t see that coming.”

“I just haven’t played chess before, I told you. Last game?”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve come back from worse. You deal.”

I gathered up and shuffled the cards.

“Why didn’t you fight harder with Marcus?” he asked.

He’d clearly been stewing over my earlier admission. My heart sank – the poker had distracted me.

I dealt the cards. “I don’t know. I just froze.”

“Like a panic attack?”

I looked at my hand. I had a three, a six, and a queen, all from different suits. A terrible hand. Ben had relaxed back, so I knew he had something better. He yawned. This was bad.

“No. I think… I think I learnt over the years that it was easier not to fight. It was like my body learnt to override my instincts. I went into stupid autopilot. On the site, whenever I fought back, it didn’t end well. Acceptance was less physically painful.”

I turned over the first card, the one in the middle. A king.

“Ivy.”

Ben’s tone was heavy with pity.

“It is what it is. Call.”

I turned over another card, an ace.

He swallowed and adjusted his silver watch. Bollocks, he had three aces.

“Do you feel safe here… now?”

It was a tough question with an unpleasant answer, so I deflected. “Raise,”

I announced, sliding my entire pile of Minstrels into the middle.

“Okay, before I address that ridiculous move, answer the question. Do you feel safe?”

“Yes, I feel safe.”

“Truthfully?”

I felt myself wince. “What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to be honest.”

“Why are you grilling me today? I thought you hated talking about feelings?”

He raised his eyebrows at me.

I sighed. “I don’t trust myself. I don’t trust that I’ll do better next time I see Marcus. I would run through it in my head every day, what I would do if I saw him or Dores or Barnes; what I would say. But I froze.”

“You don’t need to do better, you know that, right? The police have a warrant out. You don’t even ever need to be here on your own if you don’t want to be.”

I didn’t respond.

“You think it will happen again?”

Ben pressed, his voice gentle, like he was trying not to spook me.

I nodded. “They don’t give a shit about the police, Ben, they never have. Look how slippery they’ve been already. You’re all underestimating them. Barnes and Dores weren’t stupid, they were inside the system and will have covered their tracks. I saw the look in Marcus’ eyes. Before, it was personal, but this time he was totally incensed. They won’t let me get away with it; they won’t give up. This won’t be the end of the story. They sent that article, a match, doesn’t that worry you? They’re making this about you, too.”

He folded his cards into his hand and pulled me into a hug. “Hey, it’s okay. You don’t need to worry, Ivy. I know the police have been awful, but look, I’m here, okay?”

Except you aren’t.

My body held rigid. He wasn’t seeing how I really felt; how it felt like everything was about to come burning down; how I refused to watch it happen. How being his work accessory would make it all so much worse. He meant well, I knew that. I knew he cared. But the comfort I used to feel with him was becoming painfully complicated.

“You’re ruining my poker tactics,”

I grumbled, trying to diffuse the tension.

He scoffed. “You raised more than I have, so clearly, your tactics are off.”

I’d known I needed to go big to hide my bluff. “If I win, I want you to insure Lucy on your car.”

He cursed. “That’s cruel.”

We stared each other out.

“I have a good hand, you know that. This could all be a clever bluff. Oh, wait.”

He paused, lifting his glasses onto his head and exposing his dark eyes. “Can you see the reflection of my cards?”

I laughed freely. “You think I’d need to resort to cheating? That’s cruel. If I’d seen your cards, I’d tell you. There’s no fun in winning dirty.”

“Hmm.”

He ran his fingers over his bottom lip.

“To be fair, chocolates aren’t equivalent. Do you want to add to the wager?”

I teased, fluttering my eyelashes and giving him a sultry look.

“What do you have in mind?”

Flirting with Ben felt like finally landing back on familiar ground. It was a cheap move from me, but I knew my hand was done, and I couldn’t let him win this and chess. This was what we were best at, sexual tension. Soon, my cast would be off, and we’d hopefully have the amazing sex my body yearned for, but then what? As sad as it was, I was enjoying our time together while it lasted.

“Well, I guess my control would probably slip if you were to make me sleep naked in your bed.”

It worked.

His eyes widened; the corners of his mouth twitched. “Don’t be so sure that I need cards to get your clothes off.”

I leant back, showing off; rolling my shoulders. His quick as ever retort had instantly distracted me with thoughts of how my body would feel naked in his sheets. About how he would feel, brushing up against me. I swallowed, hiding the heat flushing through me, not prepared to lose poker or the dangerous game we both liked to play with each other’s bodies.

His eyes dragged over my torso. I raked my fingers through my hair, trailing them around my ear, slowly, then down my neck.

He tossed his cards on the table. “Alright, alright. Very clever. You win again. Show me, what did you have?”

I leant back further, laughing, and pressed my cards into my chest. “Finally!”

“Show me,”

he demanded as I gripped them more firmly.

I was right; he had three aces.

“Hold on,”

I contemplated aloud, sitting up straight. “You really did have aces. Yet you still didn’t risk your car?”

He scowled at me, lunging forwards to grab my cards. We tussled as he pressed me back into the sofa. I held the cards over my head, away from him. When our eyes met, his lips were on mine instantly, compelling my body to press up into him, to connect with his warm torso and absorb the scent of his cologne. We groaned and moved together as his hand lifted my t-shirt, sliding right up to my outstretched arm to snatch my cards. The distraction worked and I didn’t care one bit. His shirt felt rough against my stomach as he whipped them from me easily, drawing away his lips to look.

“No! You had nothing? How? You could’ve just won by calling and bluffing! Why raise?”

I looked at him above me; I felt my eyes starting to glaze over, my body yearning for his, yearning to slip out of the truth of reality, just for a night.

“Poker isn’t all about the numbers. I figured out your tell.”

“Oh?”

He raised his eyebrow, staring down at my lips, hovering so I could feel the tickle of his breath. “What is it?”

I kissed him, sliding my tongue into his mouth and wrapping my hand around the back of his neck. As I pulled away, I dragged my lips over to his ear to whisper, “It’s a secret.”

I shrieked as the hand that was stroking my waist pinched my side, tickling me horribly.

“Ben! No!”

I squealed. “My ribs are still sore, you animal!”

He chuckled and withdrew. “Just get into my bed already.”

Sunshine poured through the curtains the next morning as my eyes slipped open before Ben’s alarm. I stretched, reaching for my phone to check the time, when I noticed a message from Charlie congratulating me, telling me he how much he was looking forward to working with me.

I rubbed my eyes and sat up to make sure I was fully awake. Ben grunted next to me and I felt his hand creep up my side. His alarm sounded coarsely and he groaned.

“Have you got to go away again?”

he grumbled through a yawn.

“Why is Charlie messaging me like I’ve taken the job we spoke about?”

I asked, barely containing the panic in my voice.

Ben reached for his glass of water before pulling himself up against his pillow.

“Ben?” I urged.

He rocked towards me so I moved back. “It’s a misunderstanding. I thought you’d take it. I’ll put it right later.”

My eyes darted around the room. How could he have been so sure I’d take it? After everything I’d said? Had he not listened at all? An overwhelming sense of being surrounded, being suffocated, enveloped me. That familiar feeling of being trapped; being controlled.

My voice cracked as I spoke. “I don’t understand why you wouldn’t ask me first, Ben? After what I said before I went to the coast?”

He cleared his throat. “Does it matter? I don’t want us to fall out over this.”

“Fall out?”

Wait, why would we fall out? Shit, he is mad that I didn’t take it.

“Ivy, it really isn’t a big deal. They’ll understand.”

“I don’t feel like you’re understanding, Ben. It’s a lot, all of this. It’s… too much.”

My body felt hot. “These are decisions about things, about myself, that I’m just not sure of.”

“I thought accounts was what you wanted to do?”

Frustration began simmering as I processed the hardness in his tone. “I do, probably.”

“So just not with me? Not in my company, is that what you’re saying?”

He pushed himself up, looking down at me.

I shifted further away. “What? No. I don’t know? Ben, can’t we just be together? Can’t you understand?”

He looked at me, his narrowed eyes slicing through me. “I don’t think I do. I mean, you say you don’t want any of the social media fame, but here you are, off to do more publicity, at whatever cost. You want to be with me, but not live with me. You want to do accounting, but the idea of working with me is, apparently, awful. I’ve tried to be so facilitating, Ivy.”

I stiffened. There it was. He was facilitating me.

I swung my legs out of the bed. “Whatever cost? What are you talking about?”

“I just don’t understand why you want to dredge through the past on television,”

he snapped.

“Oh?”

I goaded. “Are we talking about your past, for once? Is that what this is about? Because god only knows, Ben, I’ve tried to understand. You know what?” I stood up. “I’ve been trying to talk to you about all of this and you still aren’t listening. I need some consistency. This is exactly why I wanted a week or so at Susan and Derek’s to clear my head. Because you’re right, I don’t know what I want. I never wanted you to facilitate anything, don’t you see that?”

He scoffed. “Fine.”

Fine.

It was anything but fine.