Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92411 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92411 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Once I’ve actually managed to get it on, I feel sexy for the first time since Jed dumped me. It hits just above the knee, and the fabric has a subtle sheen. I absolutely love it.
I slip out of the changing room, and Ben looks up from his phone. His gaze wanders down my body like a downhill skier enjoying the sun.
He looks up, and his softened expression makes my heartbeat stumble. “Jed was an idiot.”
His words bring my heart to an abrupt stop. I have to pull in a breath to start it again.
He blinks. “I don’t remember us picking that one up. It’s a no.” He looks back to his phone.
What?
I’m completely confused, and my neck aches from the whiplash. He seemed to really like this dress. He told me my fiancé was an idiot for dumping me when he saw me in this dress. Maybe I misunderstood. My brain starts to push away the question I have for him: Why is the dress a no? It will sit alongside all the other questions I’ve never asked.
The ones for Jed: Why haven’t we set a date yet? Is our life together what you want?
The ones for my dad: Do you miss Mom? Do you think she’s proud of me?
The ones for me: Are you happy?
I don’t want to push my question to Ben away. New London Tuesday wants answers. “It’s a no?” I ask. He doesn’t reply. My heart sinks a little. I guess I read him wrong. Not difficult when he’s such a closed book. “Not a nine, then?”
He looks up and his brows are pulled together like he’s confused. “What’s not a nine?”
I sweep my hands down my body. “The dress. You . . . don’t like it?”
“The dress is a ten on you. But for the weekend it’s a two.” He says it like he’s telling me water is wet, like it’s a law of the universe I look good in the dress, but the law can’t apply this weekend.
I push my lips together to avoid a smile. Waves in my stomach crash together, taking me by surprise. I think that might have been a compliment, and I get the impression Ben doesn’t dish those out very often. I’ll take it. “Right. It’s not suitable for the weekend.”
He still looks confused, but it’s more that he’s confused at why I’m confused. “Right.”
Ben is so direct, so clear about everything. It’s refreshing. And only now is it obvious that Jed wasn’t like that. At all.
I bet Ben doesn’t harbor any secrets about wanting to move to Iowa.
“What about you?” I ask. Ben’s engrossed in his phone. “Do you have any ex-fiancées I should know about?”
“No,” he says simply, not even looking up.
But I want more than a syllable about his relationship history. Who is this guy as a boyfriend, fiancé, husband?
“Wives?” I ask.
“No.”
“Serious girlfriends?”
He pauses, and for some reason my heart sets off like a hen’s at the sound of a circling fox.
“No.”
“Are you gay?” I ask.
He doesn’t miss a beat. “No.”
“Good chatting with you, Ben,” I reply before slinking back into the changing room.
“Would you like me to make something up? I don’t have any serious relationships in my history. That makes it easier, doesn’t it? Nothing for you to remember.”
“I guess. But is there anything you want to tell me about your personal life?”
He sighs on the other side of the curtain. “There’s nothing to tell. I’m focused on my job. I’m not saying I’m a monk, but you’re asking about important romantic relationships. And I’m telling you there’s nothing notable in my history.”
“How does that happen?” I take off the black dress and try the more-than-suitable gray silk maxi skirt with a matching shirt. The white pearl buttons are so tiny it takes at least two and a half hours to do each one. “You really haven’t dated anyone seriously?”
“I didn’t realize it was obligatory.”
“It’s not, but you’re a good-looking, rich, powerful guy. You must have women lined up round the block wanting to have dinner with you.”
I’d never dated in New York. My girlfriends are always complaining about how rough it is. I suppose I’ll find out for myself when I get back home. Fake-dating Ben might sharpen my skills—a dating test case as well as a fake fiancé. Spending time with him might help me figure out what kind of guy I’m looking for. Ben’s directness burns sometimes, but at least I know where I stand with him. It’s a good quality in a partner, and one I might want to put toward the top of my Qualities to Look For list when the time comes. I’m just not used to it.
“I’d have to look it up, but I’m pretty sure dating has to be consensual,” he says. “I’m not interested in dinner.”