later, he returned my cell, and I glanced down to see Benjamin Mercedy as a new contact. Would he do that for any woman that had clearly just been nailed by someone in the face?
Definitely.
He was that kind of guy.
The cold reality of that calmed the raging, giggly shrew I'd allowed out of her cage for too long.
“Well.” I cleared my throat. “Thanks again. The same goes for you if you ever need anything. Not that you'd need saving on a dark night. But, you know, I do pretty good meals.”
He cracked a pity smile. “Night, Sera. Oh, and thank you for dinner.”
“Anytime.”
The sound of my name off his lips gave me a delicious shudder that was difficult to hide, so I turned away. As I headed for the door, the glare of a screen under the desk had faded, and I thought I heard a gentle, quiet snore.
4
Benjamin
“She's been fantastic, as always.”
Bethany ran her head over Ava's hair. Ava ignored me as she walked past me to go around the desk, a tablet already in her hand. Behind me, three men stood on the mat. One of them barked out instructions while the other two grappled. Ava ignored them, slipped around the desk, and crawled underneath.
“Thanks,” I said with a sigh. “I appreciate you bringing her by and feeding her dinner.”
“We're always happy to help. I think she may be a bit bored at our place, so I'll try to find her some new games.”
“I'm so grateful for all you've done.”
Bethany's brow wrinkled. “She'll come around, Ben. You're a single dad, you're doing the best you can. She's . . . having a tough time after her Mom died.”
Bethany bounced my nephew, Shane, on her hip. He drooled a soggy grin at me. Two teeth jutted out of his bottom jaw as he smiled, gnawing on a toy. The first time I met her was when I drove her brother’s bike to the Frolicking Moose and watched my brother propose filtered through my mind. How far they’d come. Now, Bethany wore a pair of heels and bright lipstick, beautifully navigating her upscale real estate job with the real-life turmoil of parenting.
“It's been a year since she died,” I said quietly. “I just . . .”
“Yeah, and Ava’s six. It's not something you just get over. You know that as well as anyone, and you weren't six when your Dad died. “
Frustrated, I ran a hand through my hair, unable to fight with that. Yes, I knew how to lose a parent, but not at six. Ava never spoke about Sadie or what life was like with her. Rarely spoke at all, really.
Was I just being impatient? Did time really heal all wounds? Would Ava recover? Maybe Ava was like her Mom: destined to hate me forever.
“She's lucky to have you,” Bethany said as if she could read my mind. She put a hand on my arm, and the warm touch was soothing. I didn't agree with her, mostly because I thought it was all a contrived crock of crap. I sucked as a father. Ava had big emotions that I didn't know how to deal with, loved nail polish, and the best I could do with all that hair that she wouldn't let me cut was a braid and a ponytail.
Yeah, I loved Ava. I was happy to provide a roof over her head. But she didn't love me, and sometimes that really sucked.
“Thanks again,” I said, done with this topic.
Bethany opened her mouth to say something, decided against it, and smiled half-heartedly instead. Then, clearly on an impulse, she leaned forward and gave me a quick hug. For a moment, I melted into the warmth. It had been a long time since anyone had touched me. Then again, I rarely touched anyone else, so maybe it was my own damn fault.
Like many things.
“Hang in there, Ben. You're doing a great job.”
With another little wave, she disappeared out the door with a quick shout. “Love you too, Ava!”
No sound issued from under the desk. I headed around it and crouched down to find her on her tablet. When my shadow darkened her little hovel, she looked over at me with a teenager’s annoyance. She'd been like that at three, but I'd been more of a novelty then. A passerby that came when he could and her Mom probably talked smack about all the time. She'd tolerated me then because I brought her gifts and we did fun things together