The Hardest Cut by Jamie Bennett (book club recommendations .TXT) 📕

He looked out over the slight chop of the waves.  “She told me that she was…it doesn’t matter.  I loved her and I married her,” he said.  “After she left, I decided that I wouldn’t do that again. I wouldn’t get married. I didn’t want to be with anyone.”

“And you haven’t ever since?”

Ben shook his head.  “I have a busy job and I have a daughter.  I don’t have the time or the space in my life for dating.  Going to bars to meet women?  Bringing a stranger home when Tessa is there?”  He laughed shortly at the suggestion.  “It’s not just the lack of time.  I don’t have an interest, either.

I nodded.  “It’s better to be alone,” I stated.  “But I’m lonely.  That part I don’t like at all.”

“I’m glad you have Tessa, then.  I’m glad she has you.”  He looked at me.  “Hold on.”  In another moment, he handed me more napkins.  “You and I could work on the loneliness part.  We can be friends without fraternizing.”

“That would be nice.  I’ll be a good friend to you,” I told him, and Ben smiled at me.

“Shake on it.”  He held out his hand.  When my palm touched his and his fingers wrapped around mine, I felt a jolt, like a big gust of wind had shaken the deck, shaken me.  I looked back at the other guests eating their cupcakes to see if they had noticed, but no one else seemed to have been affected.

But Ben stared at me in a way that told me he had.  He opened his mouth to speak, but Tessa was there, crawling into his lap, and he let go of my hand.  Whatever had happened was over.  I looked back out at the lake and tried to forget it.

Chapter 8

I huffed on my spoon and balanced it.  “See?”

Ben and Tessa clapped.  “I want a spoon on my nose!” she said, and I showed her how it was done.  It didn’t work very well on her little face, but she kept trying.

“Maybe you need to wait until you’re older and your nose is bigger.  I can do it because I have this big bump.”  I turned and pointed to demonstrate.  My mom had always said that I had my father’s nose.  I liked that it connected me to him, but it wasn’t so pretty.

“What bump?” Ben asked, leaning closer.  “I don’t see anything.  Your nose is perfectly straight.”

“I did it!” Tessa said triumphantly, and another spoon clattered to the floor.  “Oops.”

I laughed and stood to collect the utensils from the ground.  “Help me clear up and then we’ll read before I go,” I told her, and she brought some dishes from the table to the sink and ran off, singing.  I loved being here like this.  That past Monday, I had stayed a little later.  Ben hadn’t avoided me when he came in—we’d actually started talking, and then he had suggested that I hang out more while he cooked dinner.  That turned into me staying for the meal, and then since he had cooked, I cleaned up.  On Tuesday, he seemed to expect the same, and on Wednesday, and suddenly it was a routine.  Here I was again, and it felt very normal.

“What do you think about Bryson Kahn from South Dakota?” he asked me now, setting the Dutch oven of pasta on the scarred laminate countertop.

“The kitchen needs a little work, but all appliances included!” I added to this listing, but then focused on Ben’s question.  “Kahn, the backup QB for the Coyotes?” I clarified, and he nodded.  “I don’t know if I’ve seen him play enough to have an opinion.  Why?  Are you guys thinking of signing him out of free agency to be second-string behind Davis?”

Ben nodded again and our discussion turned to football.  But then, as was happening more and more, we talked about other things.  He told me about growing up with his brother and all the trouble that Kayden had caused, silly stuff when he was little, but more serious as he got to be a tween and teenager.  “My dad was so hard on him,” Ben said.  “My brother rebelled.”

“But he was hard on you too, wasn’t he?  Did you rebel?”

“No.  I just tried to be perfect,” he answered, and I understood what he meant.  Ben wiped down the ugly table.  “Do you know why I stopped playing?”

“I know you were injured,” I said.

“I tore apart my knee and broke my femur,” he told me matter-of-factly, and I cringed to hear it.  “I had…man, I have to count to remember all the surgeries, major and minor, but I knew I wouldn’t play again the moment it happened.  I heard the sound of my leg breaking and I knew.  Gaby…”  He handed me a paper towel.  “Don’t be sad.”

“You know that I cry a lot, and that’s a terrible story, too,” I said, and sniffed.  “I’m so sorry!”

“No, that was the thing about it,” he answered, shaking his head.  “I wasn’t.  I wasn’t sorry that it was over and that I wouldn’t play again.  I lay there on the field, looking up at the sky and in so much pain, but what I remember most is the relief I felt.  I had worked so hard to make everyone else happy, and I could stop.  I didn’t have to live up to their expectations anymore, especially not my father’s.  I was glad, but it broke Marin’s heart.”

“Your wife?”

He nodded.  “She wanted to be married to a United Football Confederation starting quarterback.  Then she had a guy on crutches for a few years.  It wasn’t what she signed up for and she was very, very disappointed.”

For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer.  In sickness and in health, right?  That wasn’t a very nice way to treat your husband.

Now Ben reached over and wiped my cheeks gently.  “That’s enough about that.  Tell me what happened in your practice today.”

This line of conversation didn’t make