Crush - Kelsie Rae Page 0,27
since I first helped you deliver Jonathan?” I joke.
“Yup. It’s been a long six years, my friend. A looong six years.”
I snort. “Uh, huh.”
Krista rummages through her fridge, then pulls out a plate with plastic wrap covering the surface. I intercept it before she can protest. “I can heat up my own food. Thanks for making it, though.”
“Don’t mention it. I’m just glad you could still come even though your schedule has been insane lately. How many babies have you delivered, exactly?” She plops down onto a barstool tucked beneath her gray kitchen island, resting her chin on her hands as she waits for me to give her all the gory details.
With a shrug, I put the plate in the microwave, then set the timer. “Lost count. But they’ve all been relatively simple births with only a few minor complications, so I’m going to call it a win.”
“Well, I’m happy for ya. Speaking of your life….”
Her voice trails off, and I groan. “Don’t, Krista.”
“Come on. You gotta tell me, Ben.”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“She was cute––”
“She was no one.”
“She didn’t seem like no one.”
My frustration finally boils over. “Look, nothing is going on between me and Marcy, okay?”
“And why is that?” Krista prods, her usual light and bubbly personality absent. The girl has known me since our freshman year in high school. She can read me like an open book.
“I dunno,” I hedge. “I’ve just been busy.”
“So?”
“What do you mean, so?” The challenge is clear in my voice.
“You’ve been busy. So what? Do you think that when you start dating a person, they need a babysitter or something when you’re not around?” She laughs. “Pretty sure you can still see a person even if you have to disappear every once in a while to deliver a few babies.”
Rubbing my palm across my face, I lean my ass against the counter behind me and sigh. “Maybe I don’t want to see anyone.”
The microwave dings, and I pull out the hot plate, burning my finger as soon as it comes into contact with the molten gravy.
“And why is that, Ben?” she asks, ignoring my discomfort as I suck my finger into my mouth.
“We’ve already had this conversation––”
“And I want to have it again. You deserve to be happy, Ben. You deserve––”
“I don’t deserve shit, okay?” I snap. “Because if I did get what I deserved, Kate would still be alive.”
“I’d give anything to bring Kate back,” Krista whispers. Her voice cracks as her sister’s name slips through her lips. Sometimes, I forget how close they were. That Krista broke like I did when she received the phone call from Grant Malone, who had to tell her the bad news. But she didn’t stay broken. She put in the effort to pick up the pieces while I felt too guilty that if I did the same thing, I’d be moving on without the love of my life. And that burns worse than any microwave mishap ever could.
Wiping away the moisture beneath her eyes, Krista continues, “But she’s gone, Ben. You know this better than anyone. And even if you’re not willing to date anyone, or open up your heart to someone in a romantic way, you need to open yourself up for something. Even if it’s a platonic relationship or a damn dog. You need friends. You need human connections.”
“You said dog.”
“I take back the animal suggestion. You’d wind up with twenty of them, and then we’d never be able to find you a new spouse.”
“Well, what about you and Ron?” I ask in an attempt to lighten the mood. “You’re my friends, right?”
“We’re family. We don’t count,” she huffs, folding her arms. “I know that it was always you and Kate, okay? Even in high school, you were each other’s best friends, so you didn’t need to have anyone else. And that was great. Seriously. I wasn’t the only one who would watch you two together while praying I’d be lucky enough to find something similar. Then she died, and you didn’t just lose your wife, you lost your other half. Your partner in crime. Your everything.”
“We’ve had this conversation too,” I point out. The burn on my finger grounds me as I press against it to elevate the sting. Anything to distract me from the loss of Kate.
My other half.
My partner in crime.
My everything.
“And yet, you still haven’t listened to a single word,” Krista murmurs.
Ignoring her––and proving her point perfectly––I reach for a fork from her utensil drawer then dive into the