The weeds were the first thing I noticed as I made my way along the paved path to Ben's front door. My gaze followed the twisting lengths as they pushed through the cracks and strangled the roses once tended by me. It made my stomach drop to see how much he'd let it all go, as if the act of maintaining something that had meant so much to me was more than he could stand.
Almost six months had passed since we'd spoken. A closing door and a couple of boxes filled with the belongings I'd left here had signalled the end of our two-year relationship. Even though I'd kept up with the happenings in his life through mutual friends, we hadn't been in contact since.
I missed him.
I released a shuddering breath and tried to push away the thoughts. If I let my mind wander too much, I'd lose control of the emotions I'd worked so hard to contain on the drive over here.
My limbs tingled with nervous energy as I stepped onto the porch. I stood in front of the door, smoothing my long brown hair then checking my sundress for any flaws in the yellow fabric. I had to fight down the urge to laugh at myself, knowing he probably wouldn't care what I was wearing, even though this outfit used to be his favourite.
I braced myself and gave a couple of sharp knocks. Bright sunlight parted the shadows on the porch, warming my bare legs while I waited. My heartbeat quickened, and I struggled to even out my breaths. Long moments passed until I finally heard footsteps on the wood floor inside.
The door swung open and all the emotion inside me swelled to bursting point. His blue eyes were calm and steady as they settled on me. He didn't look thrilled or surprised to see me standing here.
He wore a pair of old jeans that hung low on his hips, with the button and part of the zipper left open. His chest and feet were bare, and his dark hair rumpled. He looked as if he'd just woken and pulled on the nearest piece of clothing. I hadn't considered the timing of my visit. Being Sunday morning, I realised now he might still have company from the night before.
"Hayley."
His sleep-roughened voice made me shiver. I crossed my arms over my body, clasping my elbows to keep my fingers from trembling. "Hi." My mouth tried to form a smile, but I could only lift one corner.
I remembered lazy weekends with him when neither of us had to get up for work. We'd never officially lived together, but I'd stayed over often enough to make myself at home. I used to wake with his arm draped across me or his leg thrown over my hip. Those moments always made me happy, and I'd burrow closer just so I could get lost in his warmth. I looked up at him now and realised there was no warmth to take comfort from anymore.
"What do you want?" he asked as his gaze swept over me.
I swallowed and took note of the tight line of his jaw. "I want to talk to you," I said, keeping close watch on his expression.
"We've done all the talking. You fucked up, and we broke up."
I drew a steadying breath and glanced down at my feet, shifting an errant pebble with the toe of my sandal. "Can I come in?" I asked, meeting his gaze again.
"Why?" He blocked the entrance with his body, one hand holding the door while the other rested against the frame.
My throat thickened with emotion. I hadn't expected him to make this easy on me. The idea that he might turn away completely without even giving me a chance had desperation building inside me. "Five minutes," I said. "Please."
He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, letting out a world weary sigh that would have made me smile at any other time. "Five minutes," he said, "then I'm tossing you out on your ass."
I did manage to smile this time in an effort to lighten the mood. "You've had some practise with that."
He lowered his head and opened his eyes. We stood there looking at each other, me fighting not to break down and beg for his forgiveness, him letting out a harsh breath that made me think he was trying to maintain control. I wanted to touch him, not in a way that would change his mind about me, but just because I needed that physical connection with him again.
His expression tightened, and he shook his head. "Don't start that shit with me," he said as he stepped aside to let me pass through.
"What shit?" I slid by him and moved into the hallway, glancing around for signs that he had company. The whole feel of the place gave me the impression he'd been alone.
"All those looks, those things you do. They don't work on me anymore." He closed the door and headed into the living room.
I left my handbag in the corner and kicked off my sandals the way I used to do, so I could feel the wood floor beneath my feet. His words should have kept me at a distance, but the need to see this through had me trailing after him.
When I entered the living room, almost everything looked the same as I remembered; the oversized beige couch, the recliner chair he'd often claimed had character even though to me it just looked worn and old. The only addition to the room was a large piece of colourful art that filled the white wall. His sister had been painting the canvas while Ben and I were still together. It made my chest ache to see that life had gone on without me.
"I like what you've done with the garden," I said.
He gave a derisive snort and turned to face me. "I don't care about the roses. They were yours, not mine."
I'd prepared myself for the words; I knew he'd still have more to say even though we'd covered it all more than once. I hadn't prepared myself for the way he might look at me though, as if he couldn't bear to be in the same room with me.
"Ben." My gaze strayed to his chest, to that hard expanse of tanned skin. I wanted to press my cheek there and wrap my arms around him.
"Just tell me what you want."
"I miss—" My voice cracked, and I had to clear my throat before I could go on. "I miss you."
He shook his head and let out a humourless laugh. "It's over. You've been gone for months."
"I've been thinking about you constantly. I had to wait to come see you because I didn't want you to get the impression I wasn't taking this seriously. You were so angry with me."
"I proposed to you, Hayley. You freaked out."
"I know." That wasn't the part that made him angry, though. He'd taken me out to dinner, to the restaurant near my apartment where we'd shared our first date. We were celebrating our two-year anniversary, and everything had been just perfect—right up until the point when he pulled a ring box from his jacket pocket.
I had no idea he was planning on asking me to marry him. We'd never discussed it—not even once—and he knew how I felt about marriage after watching my mother fail spectacularly at it four times. He didn't appear nervous; there'd been no quaver in his voice. He was so sure of himself, so confident that this was what we both needed that it ended up having the opposite effect on me. I wanted to run far and fast from the love in his eyes. I'd seen my mum look at each of her husbands the same way before it all fell apart, and I was left to pick up the pieces every time.
My reaction had been to toss back a glass of champagne and tell him I needed time to think about it. True to his usual form, he hadn't taken it personally. He'd kissed me and told me to come back to his place if I wanted to talk to him, then he'd left me alone to contemplate the idea of becoming his wife.
I didn't want to think about it at all, so I downed the rest of my champagne followed closely by a few tequila shots. Unfortunately, I'd never been much of a drinker, so it only ended up leading to trouble.
"Then you got hammered and gave some random guy a blowjob."
I covered my face with my hands. "I know... I know!" Tears welled in my eyes, but I couldn't let him see them. The exact details from that night hadn't stayed with me. I couldn't remember the man's features, and I'd never asked for his name. The drunken text I'd sent Ben afterward to blow up our relationship and sabotage the best part of my life was the only evidence of my wrongdoing.
"Explain to me how you're supposed to fix that."
I pulled my hands from my face when I would have preferred to keep hiding. A tear dropped to my cheek. I caught it with my thumb and blotted it on my dress. "I can," I said. "I will. Let me make it up to you."
He shook his head, watching me long enough to have me squirming under the weight of his stare. Just when I'd decided he'd had enough of my company, he scrubbed a hand down his face and blew out a long breath. Our eyes met, and I felt an overwhelming urge to touch him. It had just been too long.
He looked me over, his gaze caressing my breasts and lingering on my legs. We'd come to know each other too well for me to not recognise the signs that he was still attracted to me. Despite wanting more than just his physical desire, seeing it in him caused the smallest flicker of hope. I took a breath and made myself walk toward him, stopping when his eyes narrowed.
