His confession strikes me. It’s the last thing I expected. I was at the club tonight; I saw the way women react to Ben. The glamour of this life is so appealing to so many. I’m surprised he’d go a single day without sex, much less a year and a half.

  “Because you’ve been busy?”

  He nods. “With Caleb, with basketball, yes.”

  Understandable.

  “And also, I wasn’t interested in pursuing other women.”

  I try and fail to hold eye contact with him. The kisses we just shared were intimate, yes, but this feels different…harder.

  He sighs with his confession, like it took a great deal of courage to admit, and then he turns to leave the bathroom. “Shower, relax. Please take whatever you’d like from my closet when you’re finished.”

  I nod mutely as he leaves, and only after I’m sure the double set of doors that lead out are securely closed, I turn to the mirror.

  I don’t look like myself. Slightly more pale than normal, small, hunched forward with my arm wrapped around my middle. I look tired and meek. No wonder he’s treating me like I’m fragile.

  I undress and carefully fold my clothes in case I need them in the morning, then I step into the shower and luxuriate in every single one of Ben’s expensive soaps and shampoos. The shower I share in the house back at Caltech has the water pressure of a dripping hose, and I can’t use nice soap because, for one, I can’t afford it, and for two, if I did splurge, everyone else would pilfer it.

  I stay in there forever, turning in slow circles, feeling the warm water beat down on my skin. Eventually, I cut it off, worrying Ben might come in to check on me since I’m taking so long.

  I wrap myself in a fluffy white towel and pad over to the nearest closet. It’s nearly empty inside, save for some storage boxes at the very top, on shelves completely out of my reach. I realize it’s the closet Ben’s wife will use one day, and that thought makes my heart pound as I quickly back out and close the door behind me. Across the bathroom, in Ben’s closet, I find a pair of boxer briefs and an old college basketball t-shirt that’s been washed so many times it’s decadently soft.

  The boxer briefs are comically big even when I roll them twice, but they’ll have to do. The t-shirt is large as well, enough so that I don’t have to worry about the fact that I’m not wearing a bra.

  I leave my hair to airdry as I rub on some La Mer face cream I found in the toiletry bag. As I’m brushing my teeth, Ben knocks on the door.

  “Come in,” I say around the toothbrush.

  He steps into his bathroom and his gaze immediately lands on me.

  I shift on my feet as he takes me in, showered and fresh-faced.

  “Good. You found something to wear,” he says, looking down to conceal a smile. I must look ridiculous in his clothes, but it’s not my fault he’s so tall.

  He heads into his closet, presumably to change into pajamas. He closes the door, but not all the way, and in the mirror, I can see a sliver of his naked back as he undresses. Smooth tan skin so muscled and toned I momentarily get distracted from the task at hand. My toothbrush dangles in my mouth as he steps out of his pants, and then he looks over his shoulder and finds me staring. I blink and look away quickly, leaning forward to rinse my mouth and tap the water off my toothbrush.

  When I finish and stand, he walks out of his closet in a low-slung pair of pajama pants, sans shirt. I watch him as he nears, trying to keep my attention off his bare chest, aware of the blood pulsing in my neck as he steps up behind me and drops his hand to my hip.

  “Mind if I…?” He leans around me to get his toothbrush, but he doesn’t move me aside. He stands right behind me as he wets it, applies toothpaste, and starts brushing his teeth. His eyes meet mine in the mirror, and his expression is a little cheeky.

  He’s aware of what he does to me, of course. I make no attempt to hide it. It’d be utterly in vain, anyway. I might as well revel in this moment, watch him all I want as he does an ordinary task while looking drop-dead gorgeous.

  Once he’s finished, he rinses his mouth and dabs it with a towel. I stand there, waiting for him to lead me to the next activity.

  “I should offer to take the guest bedroom and let you sleep in here alone, shouldn’t I?” he says as we walk back into his room.

  “Please don’t.”

  I understand why we’re not rushing straight into things. I know it’s been a long day and there’s still so much to discuss, but sleeping next to Ben is one of life’s simple pleasures, and I don’t want him to deprive me of it out of some needless sense of chivalrous obligation.

  “It’s a big bed,” I add, as if that’s reason enough for him to stay.

  He nods and we each take a side, tugging down the blankets. We climb up and settle in beside each other, separated and chaste. I lie on my back and stare up at the ceiling for a moment, trying to be good before Ben turns out the light. In the dark, he reaches over and grabs hold of my hip under the blanket, tugging me toward him so I’m flush against his chest, my legs tangled with his. Neither one of us says a word. I’m too caught up in my own head, worrying about what this all means, trying to calm my heart so he doesn’t notice how erratically it’s beating because of him.

  His arm circles my waist, keeping me still as we both start to settle and relax, growing comfortable with this closeness.

  A few minutes pass, and I think he’s drifting off to sleep then he whispers in the dark, “I didn’t want to leave you in Texas.”

  My pulse quickens at the revelation.

  “We could have made it work,” he insists.

  I shift and lean back, trying to find his face in the dark. My eyes have adjusted enough that I can barely make him out in the moonlight seeping in around the drapes.

  “You had enough to focus on,” I whisper weakly. “Look at everything you had going on. You were flying to Tokyo for the Olympics, you were going through a divorce and becoming a father. The last thing you needed to worry about was a brand-new girlfriend.”

  His finger traces circles on my hip. “Girlfriend.”

  I roll my eyes. “Of course you’d only pay attention to that word.”

  “I just like the way it sounds.”

  “Don’t get distracted. I was making a really good point. You and I wouldn’t have worked out before.” I shake my head, sure of it. “Nan…it wasn’t pretty there for a while. I was going through a lot. She passed so quickly, and she didn’t leave me much. I had to pack up my life back in Texas yet again and get my head on straight…I wasn’t even sure they’d let me return to Caltech. I mean, thank god for Professor Olmsted…”

  He digests all of that, and I think it might be the end of it until he continues, “I agree somewhat…it would have been hard, but we would have pulled through.”

  I groan in annoyance. “You’re in la-la land. What was I supposed to do? What if you decided you were going to try to make it work with Shelby so Caleb could grow up with his parents together?”

  “That was never an option,” he says, coming toward me.

  I back up on instinct. “Well I didn’t know that! It’s common enough. You loved her at one point and you love your son, and I didn’t want to stand in the way of that.”

  He hovers over me in the dark. “I was already too far gone, Birdie.”

  His declaration sends a shiver down my spine.

  “I still am,” he continues.

  It’s not possible. This can’t just suddenly…work. That doesn’t happen for me. I’m the kid with flaky parents, the one raised by her grandmother. I’m the quiet girl in school who the boys looked right over like I wasn’t even there. I’m the one who wasn’t all that good at sports, the one who read and read and read until all I knew was books. I’ve kept up that relationship, truly the only one I can depend on now that my nan is gone. It makes no sense that Ben could be into me as much as I’m into him. This hope feels so good, too good, scary good.

  “Ben, we’re just getting our feet wet. We’ve barely spent any time together—”

  He suddenly sits up and takes my hand, tugging me out of the bed and into the dark. I trip over my feet and nearly pitch forward, but he has a good hold on me. We’re walking quickly, cutting through his bedroom and out into the hall like we’re on a mission. I can barely keep up with him. We fly through his house until he suddenly comes to an abrupt stop outside of a door. He whips it open and flips on a light, motioning for me to enter. I walk tentatively into his study, taking in the rich dark decor. I wonder why he’s brought me here. Yes, sure, the room is beautiful. The desk itself is tidy, just like the rest of the house. Impatiently, Ben steps in and rotates me until I’m facing the wall across from his desk.

  Immediately, my mouth drops. There, hanging on the wall, spanning at least five feet in either direction is a glossy painted reproduction of the Hubble Ultra-Deep Field, the same image I had hanging in my trailer, the same one I have by my bed back at Caltech. The painting is as tall as I am, detailed and intricate. The artist did such a beautiful job recreating the iconic photo, but before I can step closer, without a word, Ben takes my hand again, whirling me back toward the door.

  I’m laughing now, begging him to let me go back.

  “I just want to see it up close. It looked like wet ink…the way the artist painted it. Was it resin or something?”

  He doesn’t answer any of my questions. He’s too busy leading me away.

  “Where are we going?” I ask, laughing more.

  Back near his bedroom, there’s a closed door that leads to another dark room. Unlike in his study, he leaves the light off as we walk inside, and as my eyes adjust I see it’s likely because of what’s on the ceiling: hundreds of glowing stars. They’re not the stick-on kind from the dollar store; these look like they’ve been painted by a careful hand. Among them, there are swirling nebulas and twinkling constellations. An entire universe lives on the ceiling of this room. A room I would have loved as a child. Through the shallow darkness, I see the spaceship blankets neatly tucked in on a twin-sized bed, the framed photo of Buzz Aldrin on the moon over a dresser, the telescope by the window.

  I turn slowly back to Ben, and he looks so frustrated, at an utter loss as he asks, “Do you see now?”

  Chapter Thirty

  Ben

  I’m lying next to Raelynn in my bed while she sleeps. It’s early morning, predawn, and I’ve tried to close my eyes again and rest, but my brain won’t comply. My body is hyperaware that Raelynn is in my bed, and I barely slept a wink all night. At this point, I’ve given up trying in favor of watching her. She’s snuggled up beside me, lips parted, cheeks flushed and freckled. Her hair dried into wild curls after her shower last night, and a few of them splay across my chest, the pale golden strands tempting me.

  She hasn’t stirred once and I’m glad; she was exhausted last night. I saw what that spectacle outside the club did to her, how quickly she clammed up, nervous and on edge. She seemed so brittle in the front seat of my car, barely breathing as I drove us away from the mess of paparazzi.

  I regret my impatience. Had I stopped and thought for one second, I would have never followed her into that club. I would have paced myself, introduced her to this life slowly, eased her in with proper planning, security, warnings. It’s too late for that now. Last night’s exit ensured the peace and quiet of the life she knew yesterday is now gone.

  The hounds will be on her from here on out. As long as we’re linked together, they’ll want a piece of her, and that knowledge kills me.

  What kind of selfish bastard subjects someone he cares for to this life? It’s bad enough that Caleb will suffer thanks to me, but I don’t want that for Raelynn. I wish there were another way.

  A quiet voice inside my head points out that there is another way.

  I could give her back.

  I could have my security team drive her home and set her right back into her old life. I could concoct an elaborate diversion with my PR team, be seen around town with another girl, and let Raelynn drift right back into anonymity.

  The thought makes me sick to my stomach.

  I’m not the man I wish I were, someone honorable and good.

  I want her too much to send her back. I’ve been living and suffering without her for so long. Surely I’ve paid my dues. Surely I’m owed an ounce of happiness.

  I trace a finger down her arm as my throat squeezes tight.

  Ultimately, it will be her decision whether she stays or goes, I know that. But I won’t do the right thing; I won’t push her away to make it easier. I can’t.

  I drag her closer. She moans quietly in her sleep as I wrap my arms around her and kiss her hair. Her scent fills the air around me, and I breathe deeply as she falls back asleep beside me, her hand flat on my chest.

  A little after seven AM, she finally stirs and sits up, rubbing her eyes as she takes in her surroundings.

  “How long have you been awake?”

  I damn near blush. “A while.”

  “Just watching me sleep like a weirdo?”

  I chuckle, but I don’t deny it.

  She sits up a little more, tucking her hair behind her ear and looking away, almost self-conscious. I reach for her, cupping the back of her neck and tugging her closer to me so I can kiss her cheek.

  I tell her she looks so fucking gorgeous just to see that red creep up her neck and color her cheeks. She’s so easy to tease, so responsive and earnest in bed. I’ve been hungry for an hour, was contemplating what I could make us for breakfast, but now I drag Raelynn down onto the bed and decide we’ll stay here a little while longer, just kissing, nothing more. God. It’s torture to keep my hands in check, to resist the urge to dip my hand beneath my shirt she’s wearing.

  It’s nearly eight before we manage to get up and leave my bedroom.

  “I’m so hungry I feel lightheaded,” she says, half teasing.

  I grab her hand just in case she’s about to pass out on me and lead her toward the kitchen.

  Nina is in there, meal-prepping some lunches and dinners for me. She’s slightly younger than Donna, not quite sixty, with a tiny bit of gray overtaking her short black hair near her temples. She’s petite, but she makes up for it with her personality. She’s got a lot of it crammed into her small frame.

  She beams when she sees me coming, then that smile drops completely, replaced with slack-jawed shock when she sees Raelynn tucked by my side.

  “Ben, good morning! I didn’t realize you had company.”

  She’s already flying, grabbing for a towel so she can wipe her hands clean before rushing over.

  “Nina, it’s fine. You keep doing what you were doing. I was just going to make breakfast for us.”

  “Of course. Yes.” She nods and reaches out her hand for Raelynn. The smile on her face says it all. “I’m Nina, Mr. Castillo’s housekeeper.”

  “And right-hand woman,” I add.

  “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Raelynn,” she says, beaming.

  Nina has been with me for years. She’s the one who connected me with Donna. They’re cousins and thick as thieves. When they’re both here, the house is never quiet, and I like it that way.

  “You’re beautiful,” Nina tells Raelynn. “Look at you. Pure sunshine.”

  I smile, glad someone else sees it.

  Raelynn blushes and shakes her head, glancing down at the clothes she’s wearing. “I’m…this isn’t…I usually look more put together.”

  Nina waves away her explanation. She’s old school and traditional, but she doesn’t seem to mind one bit that I had a woman stay over last night.

  “Tell you what, I’m already in cooking mode. Why don’t you two grab some coffee and head outside and I’ll bring you breakfast?”

  She’s already shooing us along, not giving me a chance to protest.

  “Do you like your eggs done a certain way, Raelynn?”

  “However you fix ’em, I’ll eat ’em, I assure you. I’m starving.”

  Nina beams. “Good. Not too high maintenance.” She winks at me behind Raelynn’s back, and I roll my eyes.

  At the coffee bar, we each fix ourselves a cup, and then I lead us out onto the back patio. There’s a seating area with overstuffed armchairs, an outdoor couch, and a large black dining table that can seat twelve, but Raelynn heads toward the worn wooden swing near a trellis overflowing with jasmine. Without realizing it, she picked my favorite place to sit in the mornings, especially on spring days like this. There’s a slight chill in the air, but the throw blanket hanging on the back of the swing is enough to keep Raelynn warm as we sit and rock back and forth, drinking our coffee.

  This is where I sit with Caleb in the mornings. He likes to be lulled and rocked on the swing after breakfast. Usually while he clutches two (or three) trucks in his hands.

  “You have such a lovely home,” Raelynn says, staring out at my backyard. “I’ve only seen a little bit of it, but it’s really peaceful. Especially out here.”

  I look out at where she’s staring, trying to take it all in with fresh eyes, see it all as Raelynn would, but it’s hard. To me, this is home. It has been since my divorce was finalized.

  Large concrete pads lead from where we sit out to the pool and pool house. To the left, there’s a jungle gym and swing set. Beyond that, there’s plenty of lush green grass for Caleb to roam in. The property stretches back over three acres, filled with trees and gardens. I can’t take credit for all of the landscaping. The owner before me had a green thumb, but I did a lot of planting of my own during my offseason last year. Nina loves cooking with fresh vegetables from the garden, and this year, I want to try to add on another raised bed for her. It’s gotten so out of hand, I had to hire another gardener to maintain everything, especially while I have a heavy travel schedule.

  Near where we sit, there’s a dozen pots filled with plumerias and salvia and sunflowers that grew from seeds I planted with Caleb. Purple morning glories have overtaken one wall of the patio, their scent not quite beating out the jasmine.