A Mess of a Man (Cruel & Beautiful #2)(76)

When Sam doesn’t come over and sit next to me, I pat the cushion, praying I’m not making another mistake. Hopefully, she doesn’t call me an * for treating her like a puppy. The fact that I think of it means I’ve probably f*cked up again. I scrub my face remembering all the reasons for not wanting a girlfriend. The main one is women are too complicated. And I’m not smooth enough not to mess it up.

I glare up at the ceiling missing my best friend like crazy.

Her hand pulls mine free of my hair jarring me from darker thoughts. “Ben.”

“I know. I know.” Cue in heavy sigh, because I don’t know what to say that won’t set her off.

“Just tell me,” she urges.

Her quiet words make me meet her eyes. Sadness is still there and frustration builds in my chest. I lean back holding her gaze. I know when I tell her the truth things will change between us. She’ll see me for the dick I am because there isn’t a way to pretty up what I have to say if I plan on staying honest with her.

“She was convenient. A steady screw so I didn’t have to waste time at a bar or a club looking for someone to f*ck when I had a mind for it.”

Sam’s brows rise and I close my eyes, gazing away. I stare at the blank screen of the TV because I can’t look at her when I say the rest of it.

“She’s a lawyer, busy like I am. She wasn’t clingy.” I laugh at that. “Or so I thought. She cleaned up nice when I needed a date and I let it go on longer than I should have.”

“Is that what you think of women … of me?”

I snap my head in her direction and focus on her. “Not exactly and definitely not you. I’m not going to be ashamed of who I was.” As her eyes go wide, I add, “I’m not proud of it either. But I’ve always been honest. Even with Karen. I guess somehow she believed she could change me. I don’t know. My five-year plan has never included a relationship. My goal has been to make something of myself. Have my dad be proud of me for once. Then you came along.”

Shaking my head, I wonder who’s talking. When have I ever been into monologues? Only, she doesn’t look convinced.

“Sam, you’re beautiful. God, you’re beautiful. But that’s not all that attracts me to you. Your spark, that you don’t put up with my shit, you’re independent and not needy. I’m not going to lie and be totally altruistic—I f*cking love your body, especially your tits. But you are more than that.”

“Thanks for noticing.” She gives me a sad smile. “You had to know who she was. What made you walk away when you did?”

I have no f*cking clue why she’s zeroing in on Karen. This has to do with looks and her tits, but I still can’t piece it together.

“You think I left because she had fake tits?”

She shakes her head. “No, but why did you finally leave?”

“I didn’t leave because I was never hers,” I snap, suddenly angry that I seem to be defending that Karen and I weren’t together. “She was never mine.” I pause taking a deep breath. Just tell her, Ben, I think to myself. “She wanted me to go with her to visit her aunt in the hospital. And I didn’t see why I should go.”

Her forehead crinkles. “That doesn’t seem like the Ben I know.”

“What? I felt bad the woman was sick, but I had nothing to offer. Karen and I didn’t have a future together. There wasn’t a reason for me to confuse a bad situation by getting the awkward questions about a relationship that didn’t exist.”

“Bad situation?”

And here it is. She’s going to think I’m a jerk.

“Her aunt had cancer.” I run a hand through my hair. “But even if she didn’t, I still wouldn’t have gone. But that cancer shit scares the hell out of me, Sam. I’m not going to lie. I can’t do that again. I had to smile while watching my best friend die because he didn’t need to carry my pain when he had his own. And I won’t do that again.”

That last part comes out a little more bitter than I mean. I shake my head getting to my feet. I need a drink and head to find the bottle of Lagavulin.

Sam is right behind me. She places a hand on my back and her warmth seeps into me.

“Ben, I’m sorry.”

I turn to face her. “No, I’m sorry.” I sigh. “It’s just I can’t seem to get the f*cker out of my head. I miss him like crazy and I should be over this. I bet you feel like I’ve said it a thousand times.”

She shakes her head, cradling my face. “Who says you should be over this? There isn’t a timestamp on grief. Say it as many times as you need to.”

I glance up, but she hangs on, bringing my head down to meet her gaze. There is a fire in her eyes that melts all my resistance. Words explode from my chest giving me the freedom to breathe.

“It’s been over a year and I feel like a f*cking * for needing him. But since we became friends, he was there almost every day of my life until he went to medical school. And even then, we talked a lot. When he moved back, I practically lived in his house the last few months of his life. And now nothing. He’s gone and everyone assumes that I should just be able to go on like he never f*cking existed. But I can’t and I certainly will never willingly put myself in a position to watch someone die again. Once is more than enough for a lifetime.”