Ben climbed under the stiff, disused covers. He listened for Chance to move, to make some sound. Ben wasn’t surprised when he heard the chime of Chance’s computer booting up.
Tears welled up in Ben’s eyes, and he choked back a sob, trying not to be weak, to let Chance hurt him. When Chance’s pleading tone drifted to Ben’s ears, he couldn’t help himself, and he wept, sniffling. Chance was downstairs explaining himself to his—what? Mistress? Ben swallowed hard. That son of a bitch. After everything, how could he?
Ben listened as Chance finished his conversation. He listened as Chance ascended the stairs, listened as he padded past the door to the bathroom. Ben continued to listen as Chance performed his evening rituals as though nothing had happened. He listened as Chance’s footsteps came to a halt outside the bedroom door. Ben ground his teeth together, anticipating another round of argument. He heard Chance sigh and move away to the master bedroom. Ben released the breath he’d been holding.
Ben lay awake, running through his options as the sounds of Chance’s snores reached him. How could he sleep? Ben couldn’t believe Chance’s audacity. Ben was certain that he’d never get to sleep, and he was almost right. The gray light of morning had begun creeping through the blinds before exhaustion finally claimed his consciousness.
B EN AWOKE to the sound of someone laying on the doorbell. “Christ,” Ben croaked. He forced himself up and pulled on his pants and T-shirt. “Hold on,” he said as he walked downstairs, the doorbell still ringing. He looked out the small window by the door. Standing on the front porch was a deliveryman holding two dozen roses. Ben rolled his eyes but opened the door. “Yes?”
“Good morning, sir. Ben Silver?” the deliveryman asked with a too-cheery-for-the-hour tone.
“Yeah,” Ben answered.
“These are for you, sir.” The young man held out the flowers.
“Yeah, thanks.” Ben accepted the bouquet.
“Have a great day, sir.”
“Not bloody likely,” Ben spat, closing the door on the overly enthusiastic youth. He pulled the card from the flowers and flipped it open. Please forgive me , the card read. Ben snorted, walking to the kitchen. He tramped on the foot pedal of the garbage can and dropped the whole lot into the receptacle. “You wish.” If Ben had known a few weeks ago what he knew now, he might not have interrupted Brodie’s kiss. Ben wanted desperately to share his anger and exasperation with someone else. There was no way Lena would be up at this hour. Despite last night, he wasn’t sure if he and Brodie were good enough friends to call him. And if he’d gone to an after-party, Brodie might not be in any state to help. “Shit.” He had Derek’s number. Would Derek understand? Probably not, but who else did Ben have to turn to?
A N HOUR later, Ben sat in a lawn chair in Derek’s backyard while Derek stoked a fire in his giant man-sized grill. “You really don’t have to go to all this trouble, Derek,” Ben said for the fifth time.
“Dude. Relax. This is a great excuse for me to take the day off. After last night, I was debating it anyway. Grab a beer,” Derek called over his shoulder as he cleaned the grill racks while the fire grew.
“It’s a little early for that, don’t you think?” Ben asked, checking his phone. It wasn’t even eleven o’clock.
“Don’t be a pussy. It’s noon somewhere. You didn’t drink last night.” Derek toed open the lid of the cooler, grabbed a beer bottle, and tossed it to Ben. “Besides, your man totally fucked you over. If anybody deserves to get drunk today, it’s you.” He lifted a second beer out, closed the cooler, and popped the cap. “And me, because I’m sharing your pain.” Derek tipped his bottle in salute.
“What the hell,” Ben said, popping the top off his beer. He took a long pull. It was hoppy with a slight caramel aftertaste. It wasn’t wine, but it
Tears welled up in Ben’s eyes, and he choked back a sob, trying not to be weak, to let Chance hurt him. When Chance’s pleading tone drifted to Ben’s ears, he couldn’t help himself, and he wept, sniffling. Chance was downstairs explaining himself to his—what? Mistress? Ben swallowed hard. That son of a bitch. After everything, how could he?
Ben listened as Chance finished his conversation. He listened as Chance ascended the stairs, listened as he padded past the door to the bathroom. Ben continued to listen as Chance performed his evening rituals as though nothing had happened. He listened as Chance’s footsteps came to a halt outside the bedroom door. Ben ground his teeth together, anticipating another round of argument. He heard Chance sigh and move away to the master bedroom. Ben released the breath he’d been holding.
Ben lay awake, running through his options as the sounds of Chance’s snores reached him. How could he sleep? Ben couldn’t believe Chance’s audacity. Ben was certain that he’d never get to sleep, and he was almost right. The gray light of morning had begun creeping through the blinds before exhaustion finally claimed his consciousness.
B EN AWOKE to the sound of someone laying on the doorbell. “Christ,” Ben croaked. He forced himself up and pulled on his pants and T-shirt. “Hold on,” he said as he walked downstairs, the doorbell still ringing. He looked out the small window by the door. Standing on the front porch was a deliveryman holding two dozen roses. Ben rolled his eyes but opened the door. “Yes?”
“Good morning, sir. Ben Silver?” the deliveryman asked with a too-cheery-for-the-hour tone.
“Yeah,” Ben answered.
“These are for you, sir.” The young man held out the flowers.
“Yeah, thanks.” Ben accepted the bouquet.
“Have a great day, sir.”
“Not bloody likely,” Ben spat, closing the door on the overly enthusiastic youth. He pulled the card from the flowers and flipped it open. Please forgive me , the card read. Ben snorted, walking to the kitchen. He tramped on the foot pedal of the garbage can and dropped the whole lot into the receptacle. “You wish.” If Ben had known a few weeks ago what he knew now, he might not have interrupted Brodie’s kiss. Ben wanted desperately to share his anger and exasperation with someone else. There was no way Lena would be up at this hour. Despite last night, he wasn’t sure if he and Brodie were good enough friends to call him. And if he’d gone to an after-party, Brodie might not be in any state to help. “Shit.” He had Derek’s number. Would Derek understand? Probably not, but who else did Ben have to turn to?
A N HOUR later, Ben sat in a lawn chair in Derek’s backyard while Derek stoked a fire in his giant man-sized grill. “You really don’t have to go to all this trouble, Derek,” Ben said for the fifth time.
“Dude. Relax. This is a great excuse for me to take the day off. After last night, I was debating it anyway. Grab a beer,” Derek called over his shoulder as he cleaned the grill racks while the fire grew.
“It’s a little early for that, don’t you think?” Ben asked, checking his phone. It wasn’t even eleven o’clock.
“Don’t be a pussy. It’s noon somewhere. You didn’t drink last night.” Derek toed open the lid of the cooler, grabbed a beer bottle, and tossed it to Ben. “Besides, your man totally fucked you over. If anybody deserves to get drunk today, it’s you.” He lifted a second beer out, closed the cooler, and popped the cap. “And me, because I’m sharing your pain.” Derek tipped his bottle in salute.
“What the hell,” Ben said, popping the top off his beer. He took a long pull. It was hoppy with a slight caramel aftertaste. It wasn’t wine, but it
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