Once in a Lifetime(67)

“Don’t,” Ben said to her. “Anything you say is just fuel for him. He’s Lucille in training.”

“Sorry,” Jack said, looking anything but. “I just got excited that Ben’s got a friend other than me and Luke. He’s growing up so fast.”

Ben sent him a look that would have had Aubrey peeing in her pants if she had been a man. She stood up and brought her bowl to the sink. She couldn’t eat. She couldn’t do this. They had so much more to talk about, she and Ben, but she wasn’t eager to do that, because then it would be over. She might never be ready for that.



Not that Ben was exactly showing signs of being ready for a relationship either. The most likely scenario was that he wasn’t ever going to be ready.

Oh, yes, she knew he wanted her in his bed.

But that wasn’t going to ever be enough for her. She knew that now. It hurt, deep down inside, and she didn’t know what to do. She’d promised herself she would tell him the truth—she’d very nearly done so only a few moments ago—but now she needed to think. Turning, she looked at Jack. “Thanks for breakfast. I’ve got to go.”

Jack smiled at her. “Anytime.”

She didn’t look at Ben. She was halfway through the living room before she was aware of him following her, but still she kept going. When she reached for the front door, a bigger hand got there first, holding it closed. She stared at the forearm lined with sinew and strength and let out a breath. “I have to get to the store, Ben.”

“You’re leaving mad.”

“No.”

“Now you’re leaving mad and lying.”

She dropped her head to the door. “Ben—”

He put his hands on her and turned her to face him. “There,” he said. “Now you can try to lie right to my face.”

“I’ve got to go,” she said again. “Please, Ben.”

“Shit,” he said, staring at her. “You never say ‘please’—unless we’re having sex.”

Behind them, Jack snorted.

When both Ben and Aubrey glanced over at him, he raised his hands in surrender. “I’m going.”

“So am I,” Aubrey said, and turned to the door.

“We’re not done with this,” Ben said.

She glanced back to find him standing there in nothing but those low-slung jeans, hands up over his head and braced on the doorjamb, watching her with the expression that never failed to make her body hum. And she could only hope that he was right—that they weren’t done with this.





Chapter 24



Aubrey drove past her bookstore and straight to the church. It was early, but the front doors were unlocked. Maybe a church was always unlocked; she had no idea. No doubt the people here were far more trusting than she was. In any case, she let herself in and was grateful to find Pastor Mike in his office, reading.

He looked up with surprise. “Aubrey. I’ve been thinking about you since you missed the meeting.”

Because she’d been in bed with Ben.

And in the shower.

And against the wall…“I’m sorry,” she said, hoping she wasn’t blushing. “Something came up. But I have”—she looked at her watch—“seventeen minutes, and I’ve got a problem that’s really much bigger than seventeen minutes, but I thought out of everyone I know, you’re probably the only one who could help me. I don’t know.” She blew out a breath. She was rambling. “Can I come in?”

“You already are,” he said with a smile. He rose and gestured to a chair. “Tell me the problem.”

“It’s actually more of a question. About making amends.” She hesitated, because now that she was here, she was nervous. Very nervous. What if she’d already screwed up too badly? What if there were no amends that could fix this one last thing on her list, the most important thing on her list?

THE HARD ONE.

“Sixteen minutes,” Mike reminded her gently.

“Right.” She drew a deep breath. “Okay, so say you have a secret, something you want to apologize for, but by coming out with it, you might hurt the very person you want to make amends to?” She stopped. “You know what? Never mind; I’m not making sense.”

“Yes, you are,” Pastor Mike said. “It’s just a hard thing to say. You’ve wronged someone. You want to apologize, but in bringing it out into the open, you might hurt the very person you wanted to apologize to. Do I have that right?”

“Yes.” She sagged back in her chair. “You’re very good at this.”

“Don’t say that yet.” He leaned in and met her gaze. “Aubrey, sometimes you have to go with your heart. The very soul of your heart, where all the goodness is.”

“You make it sound easy.”

He shook his head. “It’s not. That part of your heart is usually protected by pride and stubbornness.”

Aubrey let out a half laugh, half groan, and covered her face.

“Sometimes,” he said quietly, “you have to do the hard thing, not the easy thing.”

She dropped her hands. “But either way feels like the hard thing—on the one hand, telling him, and on the other hand, keeping the knowledge to myself.”