for it.
A good friend would sleep on the couch, but I had long since ceased thinking of myself as just a friend. Neither of us had ever said the word nanny. Official Organizer? Mistress of the Mercedy Life? No, the moment on Sunday afternoon when I realized I wanted to be with him instead of alone at my new place, with a new world to explore, I knew this was different. That I'd given up on keeping things totally platonic.
No, I was more than that to Ben and Ava, but what that was, I wasn't sure yet.
With a quick flick of the lamp next to his bed, the room fell into darkness. I stared at the ceiling, wondering what Ben thought about before he went to sleep, when my phone illuminated with a new text message.
Benjamin: Things go okay?
* * *
Serafina: Beautifully. She's such an amazing kid, Ben. How are things there? Mom okay?
* * *
Benjamin: Can I call?
* * *
Serafina: Of course.
Seconds later, my phone sang. I accepted the call and said, “Hey.”
“Hey.” His voice was soft and weary-sounding. “Thanks. I hate texting.”
I grinned even though he couldn't see it, and spiraled a piece of hair around my finger. He definitely hated texting. “I know. This is better because I like hearing your voice. So tell me what's happened today. What's going on there?”
“Mom is stable. Sometimes responsive but pretty out of it. They've already put a stent or something in. She needs hardware or . . . a pacer? I don't know. “ He paused for a moment, as if totally overwhelmed. Then someone spoke in the background. A few breaths later he returned.
“Just a sec.”
The distinct sound of rustling, doors opening, and then a ding followed.
“You still with me?” he asked.
“Always,” I said softly, and hoped he didn't hear the double meaning in the words. It sounded like he was walking now.
“Sorry, I just had to get away from there for a while. My brother, his wife Mallory, Maverick, and a few other siblings are all in the waiting room at the same time and that's the worst idea ever. They're all so freaking intense it's like having a board meeting.”
Tremors of frustration ran through his voice as he spoke. They came out in sharp bursts, like a staccato. The idea of several Benjamin's or Maverick's sent a little shudder through me. Maverick had always been so kind, but there was definitely something big about his size and quick mind. Benjamin, of course, carried himself like a panther, so he always looked like a prowling animal ready to pounce.
“No worries,” I said. “Give it to me.”
He paused. “Give it to me?”
My cheeks heated with the double entendre, and I decided to totally ignore the other connotations. I flapped a hand, as if he could see me, and said, “Yeah. Give it to me. Tell me all about it. Why are you frustrated? What are they saying? What flavor of ice cream would you rather be eating right now?”
“Ice cream?”
The perplexed tone made my eyes roll. Darling man-child, he had no idea how to just be a normal human. Clearly, I'd have to pare this down for him in a far more direct manner. Not for the first time, I wondered about his family dynamics. Did they not know how to talk about their bad days?
Now more than ever, Benjamin needed me. The idea should have scared me, but it didn’t.
“This is an opportunity for you to tell me what's in your head, Ben. Tell me all the things, good and bad. And, you know, what ice cream you're craving. All bad days breed a need for ice cream.”
“Oh.”
“What thoughts are coming up for you after seeing everyone?”
“Are you my therapist now?”
An edge colored the human. Geez, but this man . . . Next he would tell me that he didn't eat ice cream unless it was made from something healthy, like coconut milk or something.
“No, because you couldn't afford me. Give it to me! What are you feeling?”
“Frustration.”
“With?”
“Mom.”
“Why?”
“Because she was four months late to her last cardiology appointment. They were going to do a stress test and could have caught this before she had a heart attack.”
“Yikes.”
“Yeah.”
The image of him rubbing the back of his neck filtered through my mind. He sounded agitated. I'd bet all my savings he was pacing somewhere awkward, like a closed lobby, where people thought he might explode.
“And Mallory too?”
He groaned. “Don't get me started on her. She drives me nuts. In