He claims my lips once more. “For a little bit, then I’m taking you back home with me. Where you belong.”
Fifty-Four
Bennett
* * *
“What’s she doing, Uncle Bennett?” Honor asks from the third row as George reads a paper in the driver’s seat and Astaire makes her way to Trevor’s grave. “What are all those gray things? Why are some of them bigger than the others?”
“She’s visiting a friend,” I say.
“A friend who lives in one of those gray things?”
“The friend lives in Heaven, like your mother. The gray things are …” God, I’m terrible at this. If Astaire were here, she’d know exactly what to say, but she sprang this little excursion on us at the last minute. “The gray things have their names and birthdays on them, and it’s how we remember them.”
“So her friend lives with my mom?” she asks.
I weigh my response. “Yes.”
“Do you think they know each other?”
George tuts under his breath, his eyes smiling in the rearview when he glances up.
“I imagine they do know each other by now.” I glance out the window in time to catch Astaire returning.
She slides in beside me with a teary-eyed smile.
I place my hand on her thigh. “Everything okay?”
Astaire nods. “Today would’ve been his twenty-seventh birthday.”
It’s all she says, and I don’t pry. I know what she had with Trevor was special, but I have to remember it was special in its own way. What she has with me is separate and different and special in its own way.
“Everyone buckled in?” George asks.
I slide my hand into Astaire’s and check the backseat to make sure Honor’s still fastened into her booster.
“Yep, let’s head out,” I say.
We’re spending an afternoon in the city, stopping for a few hours at the aquarium before catching a Disney matinee—two things I never dreamed I’d be doing in this lifetime.
When we’re finished, George is dropping us off for an evening for two with dinner at Sol Bleu and a night at the Peninsula Hotel. He’ll take Honor home, where Eulalia will be waiting.
Astaire isn’t one for over-the-top gestures, but after the week we’ve had, we need this night.
And something tells me it’ll be one for the books …
Fifty-Five
Astaire
* * *
“You’re so good with her,” I whisper from Honor’s doorway Sunday night. She fell asleep on the sofa after her bath, curled up against Bennett with her gray teddy bear tucked beneath one arm.
He clicks off the lamp on her dresser and pulls her door shut without a sound, meeting me in the hallway. “I think we wore her out this weekend.”
I yawn. “Same.”
His fingers trace the small of my back as we head to his room—our room.
Last night, he whisked me off for a surprise date night in the city which consisted of amazing French food, hot sex, more hot sex, a thousand-year slumber in the softest bed known to man, morning shower sex, and a room service breakfast-to-die for.
On the way home, he asked if I’d officially move in with him.
I told him we could make it official this summer, after our three-week trip to Marco Island—a tradition we’re going to carry on in memory of Linda.
We stagger into bed, haphazardly curl up together, and exhale the insanity of the past week.
Or at least I do.
I get the feeling Bennett never lost hope, never doubted for one second that everything would work out in the end.
“Why do you think Larissa wanted me to raise Honor?” Bennett asks through a yawn.
“That’s random …”
He sniffs. “I know. It’s just been on my mind.”
“It’s not something you can just call your guy about and get an answer a week later,” I tease. “I’m sure you’re not used to that.”
“True.”
“You’re going to have to make peace with never knowing.” I roll toward him, resting my arm over the radiant warmth of his upper body. “But I like to think she saw something in you that you’ve never been able to see in yourself.”
“Like what?”
I fight a smile, knowing how insane this is going to sound. “When people look at you, they either see Bruce Wayne … or they see Batman. I think you were her Batman.”
Bennett is still, quiet.
And then he laughs. Laughs.
Bennet Schoenbach … laughing.
And in the dark, I watch him brush away a single tear.
“My God, Astaire, that’s the funniest … saddest thing I’ve ever heard.” He pulls me against him. “But in the strangest way, it makes perfect sense.”
I cup his face and press a kiss against his lips. “I always knew you were a giant softie on the inside, Schoenbach. Now go to sleep.”
“Love you.”
“Love you too.”
Fifty-Six
Bennett
* * *
Three Months Later …
* * *
“I’ll get it!” Honor’s footsteps stomp down the hallway Friday night and veer toward the door before I have a chance to stop her.
It wouldn’t be the pizza. We only ordered it five minutes ago.
“Are you expecting someone?” Astaire looks up from the stack of papers she’s grading and pauses Some Like it Hot.
I shake my head, place my first edition copy of Phaedo aside before following my daughter to the door—which she’s already opened.
“Bennett, hi.” Deidre from 6A stands on the other side of the threshold, finger-waving to me with a confused smile on her red lips. “I was just heading out for the night. You didn’t answer your phone and I hadn’t seen you in a while, so I was going to see if you wanted to join me, but it looks like you have company.”
Her gaze falls to Honor before lifting to me again.
“Deidre, this is my daughter,” I say.
Honor slips her hand in mine, leaning against me. A couple of months ago she asked if she could call me “Dad.” Of course I gave her a resounding yes. She has me for life. But deep down I was certain it’d be a while until it felt natural.
Oh, how wrong I was.
“We’re having pizza. You wanna come in?” Honor asks. “My mom is in the other room watchin’ a boring movie but you can do a puzzle with me if you want?”
I glance behind me, wondering if Astaire can hear any of this.
Honor has never referred to her as her “mom” before.
“Oh, no thank you, sweetheart. I don’t want to intrude on your … family time.” Deidre speaks to my daughter but looks at me. Her hazel gaze is glassy, her tone overcompensating for the sting of rejection I imagine she’s experiencing.
Our hookups were never more than hookups—at least not to me. But I imagine there was always a misplaced undercurrent of hope on her end—one I chose to ignore.